In every campsite across the nation, snags are singing their sizzling song. Self-proclaimed barbecue God Uncle Kev has commandeered the tongs and, beer in hand, he flings the Woolworth’s bulk pack of sausages around.
From the outside, his method appears blasé – nothing more than the movements of a slightly inebriated man preoccupied with the collapse of the Australian batting unit on the cooking shelter’s TV – but, of course, there’s much more to it than that.
Through years of practice, Kev can feel when it’s time to flip, as clearly as if the winds are changing. In a state of nirvana he walks the knife’s edge between undercooked and bazookaed into charcoal city.
The fact Rome was not built in a day resides close to Kev’s heart. Snags take time – something the younger generation wouldn’t understand, nor the aunties, keener to bond than cook class-A meat.
It’s an art. So why not embrace that and make our snags as arty as we can? This month, Camper revolutionises the snag, taking it to a new level of craftsmanship and garnishing it with a side of mushrooms.
6 beef sausages
1 asparagus bundle
1 red onion
3 spoons of garlic
Salt and pepper
300gms of assorted mushrooms
These snags don’t deign to occupy the communal barbecue, preferring the elitism of the grill or the open flame. Set them up at a high temperature, around 280 degrees. They can handle it.
Tear off two sheets of foil; put three snags in one piece and three in the other. If you are buying from a chain such as Woolies, rather than a butcher, you might find yourself with eight snags rather than six. In that case tear off three sheets of foil and just put two snags in the last sheet. It’s called asymmetry and is quite trendy in some art circles.
Clean the asparagus, snap off the lighter base of the stalks, and dice them into parts of about 5cm. Cut the red onion in half, then chop it so you have semi-circular strips when the layers separate. Add these veggies around and on top of the snags, then add salt, pepper and minced garlic over the top. Finally, drizzle a dash of olive oil over everything.
Tightly close the foil around the combo, making sure that nothing is exposed and that the snags are airtight within their silver trappings. The snags will cook better if the heat is contained with a lid over the top of the cooking surface. Leave them to their own bidding for 20 to 25 minutes, not opening the pack to check their progress, however tempted you may be. Instead, channel your inner Kev patience, or poke at the asparagus through the foil to see if it has softened up.
In the meantime, dice up your exotic collection of mushrooms, ideally into flat strips rather than cubes. Take your pick – from portobello to the humble white cap, just not the toadstool growing near the tent.
Chuck the assortment into a pan over heat, adding the oil and butter. Once that’s melted, throw in the shallots, garlic and rosemary. Cook for a few minutes before adding the lemon juice and a splash of red wine. Pull the mushrooms after about 15 minutes, by which point the snags should be ready. Put everything together on a plate, drizzling a bit of extra lemon onto the sausages.
Eat if you must, but these things belong in the Louvre.