Sausage

WORLD Series, Game 3, Phillies vs. the Tampa Bay Rays at Citizens Bank Park on Saturday, Oct. 25, at 8:35 p.m. Torrential downpour. High winds. Dollar-store rain poncho. And a ticket in Section 428. It doesn't get any better than this. I felt like Charlie Bucket - you know, the poor kid from "Willie Wonka and the Chocolate Factory" - when the little rugrat discovers a Golden Ticket inside a Wonka Bar, and he dances in the streets of some Dickensian city bellowing, "Cause I got a Golden Ticket . . . " Well, that was me down at Broad and Pattison, dancing and singing, "Cause I got a World Series Ticket . . . " All day I was thinking about getting a sausage and pepper sandwich at the ballpark so much that I really didn't eat all day. (I was thinking about the sausage so much you'd think I was Linda Lovelace back in 1972.

At precisely 3:30 p.m. tomorrow, about 35 employees of Habbersett Bros. Inc. will punch out at the company's Knowlton Road plant in Middletown Township, and the 125-year-old firm will close its doors for good. Johnsonville Foods of Sheboygan, Wis., the owner of the sausage and scrapple company, announced to the employees by letter last week that it had sold the Habbersett label and distribution system to the Jones Dairy Farm of Fort Atkinson, Wis. Under the agreement, the company's plant and business offices reportedly will remain Johnsonville property and will be placed on the market for sale.

The Northeast man said he just wanted to bring home the bacon last Dec. 11. His pet pig, Bacon, that is. William Gray, 25, told a judge that it was a case of mistaken pig identification. Gray said he thought the pig he was trying to scoop up in a field near Linden Avenue and Germania Street belonged to him. But Gray made a pig of himself, countered Assistant District Attorney Scott Lynett. Lynett said the pig belonged to a 16-year-old boy, who wound up being punched in the face and bitten on the shoulder by Gray.

To qualify as a greasy spoon, Brunish's would have to upgrade. The Pottstown sandwich shop is an institution in this weathered Schuylkill mill town, where fortunes were once tied to the iron and steel industries. The mill furnaces stopped firing up a long time ago, but Brunish's is still cooking away, a cement bunker of an eatery just more than six feet high that extends improbably from the basement of Dan Brunish's home to the sidewalk. At lunchtime, customers line up out the door for the hot sausage and hot dogs, the most popular items - and for many years the only ones.

Sausage always has been suspect. Who knew what dangers were lurking in the inner reaches of a frankfurter? Its artful blending of spices could be masking tainted meat. The lure of snapping skin might seduce the senses into missing all sorts of unmentionables that had found their way into the grinder. Whether you've been missing out on sausage for fear of what lies beneath the surface or been savoring it all along for its spicy spark, then it's time you discovered the possibilities of making professional-quality sausages at home.

HATFIELD GRILL We were there: 8:20 p.m., bottom of the 4th We waited: 5 minutes We ordered: Italian sausage on a roll, sweet-'n'-spicy chicken bites platter Cost: $15 Phindings: Hatfield Grills (the one we visited was on the third-base side of CBP) are where Phils Phans go for hot dogs, sausages and chicken bites. Where they go for good sausage and chicken snacks, His Phoodliness can't say - but it ain't here. True, we found the very mild sausage agreeable, at best, thanks to its subtle spicing.

Santo "Sonny" D'Angelo is just a butcher in the same way Ben Franklin was just a printer. Ben may have been Philly's first Renaissance man, but not its last. Like the old kite flier, D'Angelo is a creative free spirit not satisfied with simply rolling pot roasts. Artist, taxidermist, creator of new and exciting sausages and pates, star of his own meat-cutting video, purveyor of wild and exotic meats, D'Angelo is also a lover, aficionado and serious grower of orchids. Like wines, tropical fish and classic cars, certain objects have the power to obsess vulnerable individuals.

Pittsburgh Pirates first baseman Randall Simon was questioned by sheriff's officers after hitting one of the Milwaukee Brewers' racing sausages with a bat during last night's game. Four people in sausage costumes race around the bases between the sixth and seventh innings at Brewers games as part of the entertainment for the fans. Footage showed that when the group went past the Pirates dugout, Simon swung a bat at the Italian sausage character - portrayed by a 20-year-old South Milwaukee woman - causing her to fall to the ground.

When it comes to a versatile ingredient for dinner on a budget, sausage is king. For starters, a little goes a long way. You can easily feed four to six people with the creative use of a single pound. It's a perfect vehicle for delivering flavor, a toothsome combination of ground meat, fat, and spices available raw and stuffed into casings, as well as cured and salt dried, ready to eat. As for its global cachet, sausage is an international star of the culinary world, represented by bratwurst and knockwurst in Germany, kielbasa in Poland, saucisson in France, and chorizo in Spain, to name a few. And its historical roots run deep: Sausage-making is an age-old method of preserving meat and utilizing trimmings, dating to ancient Babylon, Greece, and Rome.

KRANJ, Slovenia - It's a diplomatic rift that has both countries hungry for a fight. The subject of the spat? A humble pork sausage. Slovenia calls the spicy delicacy "Kranjska klobasa" and Austria "Krainerwurst" - variants of the same name that belongs to the border region the sausage comes from. Both countries have enjoyed the snack for centuries and consider it part of their cultural heritage. Now, Slovenia has applied to the European Union for exclusive use of the name, and the Austrians are having none of it. "We're not going to allow anyone to deny us the Krainer," declared Austrian Agriculture Minister Niki Berlakovich.

WYOMING, N.Y. - To many travelers "of a certain age," the pinnacle of summer vacation fun could be found at places such as Gaslight Village in Lake George, N.Y., with its "old-timey" feel, rides from bygone days, and vaudeville entertainment. Lake George's Gaslight Village closed in 1989. But for a little something different, something that carries a definite whiff of nostalgia, head to western New York where another Gaslight Village is located - a real one. Wyoming, a charming little village of 500 residents, is in the county of the same name 50 miles southeast of Rochester.

When you select the right ingredients, it doesn't take many of them to create a fantastic dinner. Nor much time. The trick is to pick ingredients with lots of flavor, then let them do the heavy lifting. This recipe for spicy sausage and arugula penne is a great example. I boil some pasta, then toss it with browned peppery sausage, deliciously bitter baby arugula, some savory sun-dried tomatoes, and grated Parmesan. The result is amazing.   Spicy Sausage and Arugula Penne Makes 6 servings 12 ounces penne pasta 1 pound spicy Italian sausage meat 1 large yellow onion, diced 1/2 cup oil-packed sun-dried tomatoes, chopped 5-ounce package arugula 1 cup grated Parmesan cheese Salt and ground black pepper 1. Bring a large saucepan of salted water to a boil.

PHILADELPHIA MIGHT be the best beer-drinking city in America, but we're the wurst-eating city, too. Grilled bratwurst, paprika-spiced bockwurst, smoky knackwurst, mustard-covered weisswurst and jerkylike landjäger - along with liters of German lager, these are the staples of Oktoberfest. Or, as Doug Hager, co-owner of South Street's Brauhaus Schmitz declares, "Throw away your knife and fork . . . Wurst may not be very refined, but it is manly. " The other day I sat down with Hager and his executive chef, Jeremy Nolen, for some "frank" talk.

HATFIELD GRILL We were there: 8:20 p.m., bottom of the 4th We waited: 5 minutes We ordered: Italian sausage on a roll, sweet-'n'-spicy chicken bites platter Cost: $15 Phindings: Hatfield Grills (the one we visited was on the third-base side of CBP) are where Phils Phans go for hot dogs, sausages and chicken bites. Where they go for good sausage and chicken snacks, His Phoodliness can't say - but it ain't here. True, we found the very mild sausage agreeable, at best, thanks to its subtle spicing.

To qualify as a greasy spoon, Brunish's would have to upgrade. The Pottstown sandwich shop is an institution in this weathered Schuylkill mill town, where fortunes were once tied to the iron and steel industries. The mill furnaces stopped firing up a long time ago, but Brunish's is still cooking away, a cement bunker of an eatery just more than six feet high that extends improbably from the basement of Dan Brunish's home to the sidewalk. At lunchtime, customers line up out the door for the hot sausage and hot dogs, the most popular items - and for many years the only ones.

Every once in a great while, you will still spot the Oscar Mayer Wienermobile, the glistening, 27-foot motorized hot dog (currently sporting Pontiac Firebird taillights), as it makes its all-American rounds - an earthbound comet, looping back in from the '50s. Lord, it was a sight; still is a sight. I'd charge after the thing in rowhouse Mayfair when I was a kid, heart racing, blissfully unaware - and deeply uncaring - about the actual contents of an Oscar Mayer (or any other) picnic wiener.

Ron Preston mulled over his choices - hot or sweet Italian sausage. He picked the hot sausage. "You're a hot man," joked Judy McFadden, sporting her Queen of the Kitchen apron as she served him sausage. "I bet you say that to all the gentlemen," he laughed. The lame jokes, the convivial chatter, the scattered beers, the prizes for the children, the satisfying scent of hamburgers, hot dogs, and sausages cooked over a grill in the parking lot: The party Tuesday could have been any company picnic anywhere.

The possibilities of the classic American burger having been if not exhausted, certainly exhaustively explored (I give you the excessive foie gras-laden Whiskey King eight-ouncer, adorned with maple bourbon glazed cipollini, Rogue bleu cheese, and applewood bacon now playing at Village Whiskey, priced at $24), it should not be all that startling that the town's trendier kitchens would eventually reach down a link on the food chain and grab hold of the hot dog - the innocent, unaffected Eliza Doolittle of our street foods.