That is partly the point, isn't it?
But, I will say that everyone's nose twitched (approvingly) when the baskets appeared and were handed out and placed on tables (with cocktail sticks and napkins) in that hotel bar; there is nothing like the aroma of a frying sausage - conversation would temporarily cease - (and the TV, thankfully, was in its own television room, that bar was for conversation), and dip breaths would be drawn as breath would be happily inhaled, for cocktail sausages are utterly addictive.
Both of my parents really liked them; my father always loved cocktail sausages (especially when served in pubs), but Mother liked all sausages.
Last year, it struck me that she would like cocktail sausages, and so, I began to buy her cocktail sausages which she invariably devoured in considerable quantities.