Sausage (2 page)

Pork Back Fat
Pork back fat, also called fatback, barding fat, and in German
speck
, is the fat that runs along a pig’s back. It is the preferred fat for sausages, both for its flavor and because it sets up well after cooking, providing succulence without flabbiness. It is not readily available in markets. But, if you purchase pork loin or pork butt untrimmed, you can trim them and stockpile the fat in the freezer to use in place of back fat for making sausages. However, that is a considerable chore for slow gain.

Leaf Lard
Leaf lard, the delicious, hard fat from around the kidneys, is also suitable for sausages, though it, too, is hard to come by. It can sometimes be special ordered, or you might check with pork purveyors at farmers’ markets, who are typically devoted to pasture raising, humanely slaughtering, and using the whole hog.

Salt Pork
To substitute for back fat or leaf lard, I use salt pork, the fat from the belly with striations of meat running through it. It is not as hard as back fat, but it is almost as satisfactory for sausages. Lean pork belly is used for bacon, the meat bands being what is wanted. For sausages, it is the opposite: the fat is the prize, so choose pieces that have the most fat. There are several brands of salt pork on the market, usually sold in vacuum-wrapped blocks of about 6 ounces. Some come still crusted in salt; some come basically desalted. The former needs to be rinsed several times and then blanched in boiling water for 5 minutes to leech out the salt. The latter is ready to go, with the proviso that you must be judicious when adding salt to the recipe. That’s an easy call: cook a small sample of the sausage mixture, taste it, and continue from there. In recipes that call for salt pork, I have included a line that reminds you to test for saltiness before you add more salt.

The most facile way to mince salt pork without a meat grinder is to freeze it partially, enough so that a knife blade glides through it without mashing it. Then use a chef’s knife or food processor, first cutting it into small pieces, to chop it as finely as possible.

Oils
I almost always use extra virgin olive oil. Some years ago, this seemed rather fancy and imprudent for everyday use. That was then. Nowadays, many, many extra virgin olive oils are available. They range from not so expensive to quite pricy. For cooking, I use a medium-priced extra virgin oil. Lesser grades are not worth the money you pay for the word
olive
on the label. Instead, when I want a vegetable oil other than olive oil, I use peanut oil. It has more viscosity, which means it is not as thin and watery as many other vegetable oils, such as canola or corn oil, and it has a high smoke point, making it a good choice for high-heat sautéing or frying. Many brands of peanut oil are on the market, and they vary in how much flavor they impart to a dish. I use a neutrally
flavored peanut oil, rather than a more full-flavored, expeller-expressed artisanal product. A note of caution: keep in mind that peanut oil is potentially very harmful for those who are allergic to peanuts. When in doubt, use canola oil.

Butter
Heretical though it may sound, the difference between
salted and unsalted butter is not of as much importance to me as it is to, say, a pastry chef. In general, for savory dishes, the nuance of salt in salted butter does not interfere with other tastes. I have tried many high-end, expensive domestic and imported butters and found that most are not worth the price. There is an exception. I love Parmigiano-Reggiano butter, which comes from the region where Parmigiano-Reggiano cheese is produced. It is made from cream collected from the same dairy cows that produce milk for the manufacture of the world-famous cheese. Other than butter that you might make yourself, this is the one that best retains the sweetness of truly fresh farmstead butter. Unfortunately, it is dear, maybe even a little exorbitant, so I reserve it for uses where the butter is key, as in butter sauces or for slathering on bread. For everyday cooking, I choose a good-quality domestic organic butter, either salted or unsalted.

For the most part, I purchase herbs fresh. But experience has taught me that fresh herbs do not keep well. Indeed, no matter how they are refrigerated—wrapped in paper towels or stood in a glass of water—they will begin to rot after 4 or 5 days. So, as soon as a fresh herb bundle shows signs of deteriorating, I untie it, place it in a small bowl, and set it in the cupboard, uncovered, so it can slowly air dry. Then, I use it at whatever stage it is at the moment I need a teaspoon or so for the dish I am cooking. I have found this to be a very satisfactory way to have fresh herbs and freshly dried herbs always on hand. Keep in mind that dried herbs are more concentrated in flavor, so if a recipe calls for 1 teaspoon of a fresh herb and what you have is dry or almost dry, use only ½ teaspoon.

Volumes have been devoted to spices and their magical, commercial, curative, and culinary powers. Here, in brief, I will say only that I keep a shelf filled with spices, arranged in alphabetical order so they’re easy to pull out for a recipe without fumbling through the whole cupboard. I buy them in small amounts and keep them in tightly capped jars so they stay fresh for several months.

For cooking, I use kosher salt because it is inexpensive and flows freely without the use of additives. Fine sea salt is also a good choice, but if you opt for it, pull back on the measurement a bit: 1 teaspoon kosher salt is equal to ¾ teaspoon fine sea salt. For condiment salt, I enjoy the sizes, shapes, and colors of salt crystals, which can be found in gourmet
markets. They are expensive, however, and other than the fun you can have discerning minimal taste differences, I don’t find one type is a better choice than another. So, I have settled on
sel gris
from the Brittany coast of France, where the salt beds have been tended as lovingly as a garden for centuries. Its gray (
gris
) color comes from the clay in the shallow marshes where it is harvested. It is moist and has medium-size soft crystals, so that it melts in the mouth and then disappears before intruding its presence on the dish it is garnishing. Unlike other condiment salts,
sel gris
is also a fine cooking salt because it readily and smoothly blends into its surround, leaving no trace of its crystalline origin. Also, it is not expensive so you can use it expansively.

I employ mostly black
peppercorns but use white peppercorns when I don’t want black specks to be visible in the mix. There is not a huge taste difference between black and white pepper, except that white is a little more nutty and softer on the tongue than black pepper. I also sometimes use green peppercorns, which are elusively herby and at the same time peppery. I always grind peppercorns to order.

There’s no reason to settle for the sorry excuse for bread crumbs available commercially. All you need to make your own is a food processor and some day-old bread. Since I use
a lot
of bread crumbs in my cooking, I use my freezer for stockpiling bits and pieces from unfinished loaves, eventually to be turned into crumbs. In fact, if I’m out of my freezer inventory, I deliberately “stale” fresh bread for crumb making by drying it out in a low oven until it’s no longer squeezable. The best bread for all-purpose crumbs is
bâtard
,
ciabatta
, or a similar artisanal French or Italian bread without seeds, walnuts, olives, or the like.

To make bread crumbs, cut off most of the crust, leaving a little on for texture, then cut the bread into roughly 1-inch chunks. Place the chunks in the food processor bowl up to the top of the blade knob—no higher or the bread will turn into a glob rather than crumbs. Use pulses to swirl the chunks until the crumbs are as fine as you like. If you want extra-fine crumbs, such as what you might use for coating food on which you want a particularly crisp crust, briefly dry the chunks in a low oven (325°F) until firm but not toasted, then cool and process. Store any crumbs you won’t be using within 2 or 3 days in the freezer.

As much as I dote on long-cooked, lovingly tended meat stocks in the Continental style of the last two centuries, in the less preponderated fare of today, I opt for lighter broths, specifically chicken broth and vegetable broth. They must be homemade. Canned won’t do. Here are my easy ways to make them.

Place the chicken parts in a pot large enough to hold them submerged as they cook. Add water to cover by 2 inches and bring just to a boil over medium heat. Adjust the heat to maintain a gentle simmer (don’t let it boil at full speed or you will have murky broth), partially cover the pot, and cook for 1 hour.

Strain through a fine-mesh sieve and cool completely. Or, cool completely in the pot, then strain into storage containers. Refrigerate uncovered until chilled. Without removing the fat, cover and store in the refrigerator for up to 3 weeks (if the fat seal is not broken) or in the freezer for up to 6 months. Just before using, lift off the layer of solidified fat from the surface.

In a large pot, combine all the ingredients, cover partially, and bring to a boil over high heat. Decrease the heat to maintain a brisk simmer and cook until the vegetables are very soft and the broth is well colored, about 1 hour.

Strain through a fine-mesh sieve and cool completely. Or, cool completely in the pot, then strain into storage containers. Refrigerate uncovered until chilled. Cover and store in the refrigerator for up to 3 days or in the freezer for up to 3 weeks.