Sixteen minutes at 180C, turned twice, and a spoonful of water in the drawer underneath so the dripping fat cannot smoke you out of the kitchen.
Named from the ingredients as written, including those carried in from sub-recipes. This is not a guarantee — check the labels on what you actually buy, and note that a product’s recipe can change.
Do not prick the sausages. The skin is what holds the fat and the juices in while the middle cooks, and a pricked sausage empties itself into the drawer and comes out shrunken and dry.
Pour the tablespoon of water into the drawer under the basket, where it cannot touch the food. Skip this if your model has a solid pan with no basket above it.
Fat drips through the basket onto hot metal and smokes there. A film of water underneath holds that surface below smoking point, and it is the whole difference between breakfast and a smoke alarm.
Heat the air fryer to 180C/350F.
Lay the sausages in a single layer with a gap between them, so the sides brown as well as the tops.
Cook for 6 minutes.
Roll each sausage a third of a turn with tongs and cook for 5 minutes.
Roll them again and cook for a final 3 to 5 minutes.
They are done when they are evenly browned all round, firm rather than yielding when squeezed with tongs, and a probe into the middle of the fattest one reads 75C/167F. Without a probe, halve one: the middle should be an even pale grey-brown, with no pink and nothing wet-looking at the centre.
Resist going hotter than 180C to save time. Above about 190C the skins split before the middles are cooked and everything worth eating runs out into the drawer.
Thin chipolatas are done at around 11 minutes and thick butcher's sausages can want 20, so treat 16 as the middle of a range rather than the answer.
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Pork, salt and white pepper, in that order, with whatever the maker put in behind it — sage in a Lincolnshire, mace and nutmeg in a Cumberland, herbs and a coarser cut in most butcher's sausages. The fat carries most of the flavour and a lean sausage tastes noticeably duller. Browning adds a savoury, faintly caramelised note to the casing that boiled or oven-steamed sausages never develop, and that difference is most of the reason to bother with the turns.
The most recognisable smell in this collection and it arrives fast — within four minutes the kitchen smells like a fry-up. It changes character around ten minutes, from raw pork and fat to browned meat, and that shift is a usable cue.
Snap, then coarse. A natural casing should resist for a moment and then give with a definite break; the interior should be dense and slightly coarse rather than smooth, with visible pieces of fat. A sausage cooked too hot has a split, leathery casing and a dry crumbly middle, and one cooked too gently is pale and soft all the way through with no snap at all.
Genuinely loud for an air fryer. There is a sustained sizzle from about minute five, and occasional sharper spits as fat hits the drawer. If the sizzle turns into a continuous harsh crackle and the smell changes, that is the fat smoking and the drawer needs checking.
Browned casing first, salty and savoury; then the fat, which fills the middle of the mouth and carries the pepper; then the meat itself, which is milder than the seasoning that surrounds it. The finish is fatty and long, which is why sausages want something sharp beside them — brown sauce, mustard, or a fried tomato.
Hot, immediately. Sausages hold heat well because of the fat, so they are more forgiving on the plate than most things in this batch.
Bacon, eggs and a bap. Mashed potato and onion gravy. Braised red cabbage. Mustard, and cheap strong tea.
The easiest recipe in this set. Two ingredients and three turns.
Low, and entirely determined by what you pay for the sausages.
An air fryer with a basket sitting inside a drawer, which is the common domestic design and the one the water trick requires. Tongs. A probe thermometer if you have one.
Breakfast, or a weeknight with mash.
None.
Evenly browned on every face, including the two sides that were not facing up at any point — which is what the third-turns are for. The casing should be taut and slightly wrinkled rather than smooth, and there should be no grey patches where a sausage was touching its neighbour. Cut through the fattest one and the middle should be uniformly pale grey-brown with no pink and nothing wet-looking.
Firm rather than yielding when squeezed with tongs, with a slight springiness. A sausage that still feels soft in the middle is not there. The casing should have some snap to it if it is a natural one.
Pork sausages are minced meat, so surface bacteria have been distributed all the way through and the centre must be properly cooked — unlike a whole cut of pork, where the inside starts sterile. 75C/167F at the centre is a comfortable target and no colour test is as reliable. The other hazard here is the one the recipe is built around: fat smoking in a small enclosed chamber, which sets off alarms and, unchecked, is genuinely a fire risk in a machine with a full drawer of old fat.
Machine smoking: no water in the drawer, or old fat in it. Split casings: too hot. Pale sides: not turned, or too close together. Pink in the middle: not long enough — go by temperature rather than time, since sausage thickness varies enormously. Dry and shrunken: they were pricked, or cooked at 200C.
Nothing to prepare. Cooked sausages reheat better than almost anything else in this batch, so batch cooking is genuinely worthwhile.
Three days covered in the fridge.
Four minutes at 180C/350F in the air fryer, and they are almost as good as they were.
Cooked sausages freeze for up to two months and reheat from frozen at 180C in about ten minutes.
Sliced cold into a salad, chopped into a Monday pasta, or split and fried into a sandwich.
Eight standard sausages fit a 5-litre basket in one layer with gaps. More than that needs two runs — and gaps matter more here than in most recipes, because the sides need browning as much as the tops.
Any sausage works, with the time changing by thickness rather than by variety: thin chipolatas around eleven minutes, standard sausages sixteen, thick butcher's sausages up to twenty. Chicken and vegetarian sausages both cook faster and render far less fat, so the water in the drawer matters less. Frozen sausages can be cooked from frozen at 180C for about twenty-two minutes, separated with a knife as soon as they loosen.
Most British sausages contain wheat rusk and sulphite preservatives, and both are declared on the packet — read it rather than assuming, because the variation between brands is large. Gluten-free sausages are widely available and behave identically here.
A butcher's sausage with a high meat percentage browns better and shrinks less. Check the meat content on the packet, which is legally declared.
Cheap sausages have more rusk and water and shrink more; the difference in cooked weight narrows the price gap considerably, which is worth knowing before assuming the expensive ones are an indulgence.
Sausages are a use for trimmings and lesser cuts, which is one of the better arguments for eating them.
High in fat and salt, and this method removes a meaningful amount of the fat by letting it drip away, which frying in a pan does not.
Better than a pan, with no spitting and no washing up, provided the drawer has water in it.
Britain, for this style of sausage.
Bangers, colloquially — a wartime nickname earned by sausages with a high water content, which burst noisily in a hot pan.
Sausage comes from the Latin for salted. The nickname 'banger' is usually attributed to the First or Second World War, when rationing pushed cereal and water content up and the sausages genuinely did burst; the attribution is plausible and widely repeated rather than firmly documented.
Sausages in some form are older than written cooking and exist across most food cultures as a way of using trimmings and extending meat. The modern British sausage — coarse-cut pork bound with rusk, seasoned regionally — took its current form over the nineteenth and twentieth centuries, and the rusk is the reason most British sausages declare wheat where many continental sausages do not. Named regional styles such as Cumberland and Lincolnshire carry their own seasoning conventions.
Part of the full breakfast, of sausage and mash, and of toad in the hole — three of the most recognisable dishes in British home cooking. In an air fryer it is probably the single most-cooked thing in the country.
Breakfast, and any weeknight where dinner needs to be decided in two minutes.
A pan over medium heat, turned often, for fifteen or twenty minutes. The air fryer does the same job with less attention and browns the sides more evenly.
Cumberland is coiled, coarse and peppery; Lincolnshire is sage-forward; Gloucester Old Spot, Toulouse, bratwurst and dozens of others each want slightly different handling, though all of them cook in this machine.
The water in the drawer, which most published air fryer sausage recipes do not mention, and which is the difference between this being pleasant and being the reason somebody stops using their air fryer indoors.
The water-in-the-drawer trick circulates widely among air fryer users rather than originating anywhere identifiable.