Music has always been one of my obsessions passions. For years I was the consummate music nerd – the one that knew the track listing to every record and obsessed over the liner notes with the ferocity of a biblical scholar pouring over a newly discovered version of the Old Testament. Music was my religion and a lot of my life evolved around listening to music, playing music and going to see live music.

But time moves on and we grow up (a little). We get “straight” jobs; we start having kids. New interests grab our attention and compete for our time. Music still plays a big part in my life, but I don’t go to live shows like I used to, and I’ve become the food nerd that reads the menu of my favorite restaurant with the fervor that I once did those liner notes.

So it was a welcomed surprise on a recent business trip to Seattle when I heard on KEXP that Eddie Spaghetti would be playing that night at Hattie’s Hat. Eddie is the lead singer and founder of the Supersuckers. Not long after I was sitting at Hattie’s bar.

Hattie’s Hat is located in the Ballard neighborhood in NW Seattle and sits just up the street from the legendary Tractor Tavern (where the legendary Leon Russell happened to be playing that night). Inside it’s all dive bar and greasy spoon goodness with clandestine red leather booths, $2 Rainier and Olympia tall boys, and a sandwich counter mid-way through adjacent to the kitchen. Among the food items on the menu were fish tacos, poutine, and a burger (made with naturally raised Oregon beef) that looked good.

But as luck would have it, one of the restaurants I was considering for dinner that night happened to be a five-minute drive north of Hattie’s. Since the show wouldn’t start until around 9PM, I hopped in the car and headed to dinner.

Delancey is the wood-fired pizza joint owned by food writer Molly Wizenberg (Orangette, A Homemade Life) and her husband, Brandon. And it is great.

I lucked out and arrived in time to slip into the last seat at the counter with a great view of the kitchen and Brandon in action working the pizza oven. Staff was warm, genuine and friendly (much like Molly’s writing). My tomato salad, tossed with a basil-shallot vinaigrette, sheep’s milk feta and preserved Meyer lemon was bursting with the taste of summer, and the accompanying Domaine de Fontsainte, Corbieres, France (2009) was pitch perfect. I let my server choose the pizza and she appeared to know me so well – choosing the sausage pizza – fresh, aged mozzarella, Grana, light smear of tomato sauce and topped with housemade Italian sausage. Crust was crisp, smokey and chewy. I washed it down with the A to Z “Chemin de Terre” red blend from Oregon (2006). If I lived in Delancey’s neighborhood I would be a regular.

Stuffed from dinner I got back to Hattie’s just as Eddie and Marty Chandler (Supersuckers guitar player) were taking the stage.

Hattie’s backroom is a small, intimate space tucked away in the back of the bar, with just enough tables and chairs for about 30 people. Every chair was full of what looked like locals – mostly friends of the band, as Eddie and his family live in Seattle. A  few randoms (like me) rounded out the crowd.

I’ve seen the Supersuckers many, many times. Drank beer with them; shot pool with them. But not Eddie Spaghetti solo so I wasn’t sure of what to expect. As they played some of my favorite songs, that unsure feeling went away with memories of Cain’s Ballroom, Budweisers, and the Prize Patrol. That feeling of home from long ago, when we were younger, a little more carefree. I caught myself singing along (loudly), grin on my face. Eddie caught me too and flashed a crooked smile and knowing look from under his dark shades.

I hung around for the first set and took a few snapshots of the show then headed out into the cool Seattle night. Easing down 99, I drove with the windows down and the sweet, salty smell of the nearby ocean filling the air. Such a respite from the hot Austin summer. Still smiling, my head was filled with memories of good times; filled with anticipation of seeing my wife and girls the next day. Music, like food, will do that to you.

What song, smell or bite of food takes you back and brings a smile to your face? What band defines a certain time in your life? What passions once consumed you that are now only parts of your life?

View my Back of the House feature of Jack Allen’s Kitchen in the Summer 2010 issue of Edible Austin.

Jack Allen’s Kitchen
7720 Highway 71 West
Austin, TX 78735
512.852.8558
http://www.jackallenskitchen.com/

Aquarelle

www.aquarellerestaurant.com
606 Rio Grande Street
Austin, TX 78701-2718
512.479.8117

On a recent business trip to Seattle I found myself with an extra hour to myself after a long day of meetings. I grabbed my camera and headed to the legendary Pike’s Place Market to take a few snapshots before ending the day with drinks and dinner at Matt’s in the Market.

Staying in a hotel has it’s limitations so I wasn’t able to dive fork first into all that the market has to offer. And wow does it ever. Fish stalls, produce stands, meat counters, cheese shops, charcuterie, tea shops…the list is endless. I did learn that many of the vendors package their goods to be fresh for 48 hours and ship them all over the country. I hope to have more time on my next visit to explore this option as there was way too much good stuff to choose from.

After my stroll through the market I popped into Matt’s.

Sipping a Sazerac while I munched on housemade potato chips and hot bacon-caramelized onion dip, I took in quite possibly the best market views in the city. Tucked into the top floor corner of an old building directly across from the market, I watched the vendors finishing their daily business as I dined on a frisee and treviso radicchio salad made with Carlton Farms lardons, poached egg, toasted brioche and house cava vinaigrette.

My main course was the seafood stew of Taylor Farms mussels, Manila clams, sea scallop, fin fish, and Olsen Farms potatoes in a fennel-shell stock rouille. The Domaine de la Louvetrie Muscadet sevre et Maine 2005 was a perfect match for the tart cava vinaigrette and rich fennel-shell stock of the stew.

Friendly staff. Fresh, amazing food. Priceless views. I might have found my new favorite restaurant.

“Animals know themselves better than you do. Put them in their environment and let them go to work.”

For Yonder Way Farm’s Jason and Lynsey Kramer, letting the animals be animals is how you raise the best tasting beef, poultry and hogs. With 1000+ chickens, 80+ cattle and 50+ pigs on 113 acres of pastured land near Brenham, TX, Yonder Way Farm has established itself as one of the best sustainable meat producers in the state of Texas.

Completion of the state’s only organic certified on-farm poultry processing facility has put Yonder Way Farm at the forefront of the sustainable food movement with plans to establish Texas’ only organic certified on-farm beef and hog processing facilities are in the works.

Some of the nicest folks you could meet, the Kramer’s offer farm tours and sell their meat and eggs on-farm and through their website.

Yonder Way Farm
5500 Hwy 105
Brenham, TX 77833
(979) 530-4444 or
(866) 577-2589 toll free

On a recent August weekend, Loncito Cartwright held a gathering of farmers, producers, chefs, foodies, bloggers, writers, and photographers to his Twin Oaks Ranch near Dinero, TX, and I was fortunate enough to be one of his guests. Dubbed the South Texas Food Salon, now in its second year, Cartwright hoped that by putting like-minded food advocates in the same place for a weekend new relationships could be forged, or existing ones strengthened, and the connections could serve as links in the local food chain.

“I just kinda felt like all these people needed to know each other,” said Cartwright, when asked about why he started doing the food salons. “These people are the heart and soul of promoting local food.”

Twin Oaks Ranch is located in Dinero, TX, and spans some 15,000+ acres – some of that banking Lake Corpus Christi. It’s a beautiful and sprawling property full of mesquite trees, Texas sage and wildlife, and the Cartwright family has been ranching there for generations – as grass farmers, cattle ranchers and now lamb. Part of the property is leased to a big game company that has built an incredible hunting lodge complete with bunkhouse, movie theatre and commercial kitchen.

The mood of the weekend was relaxed as guests gathered at the hunting lodge, starting their days with Tortilla Espanol de Gomez laced with my house-cured bacon. Lunch lasted hours as guests tucked into Hatch green chile pork stew (made with Richardson Farms pork), pickles, pickled beets and squash, and tomato jam from Stephanie Sherzer (Rain Lily Farm) and Elizabeth Wilson (Farmhouse Delivery), venison ham garnished with a Cartwright family mustard recipe, Lamb and Quinoa salad from Rebecca Rather’s (Rather Sweet Bakery) upcoming cookbook, Pastry Queen Parties and cookies from Austin pastry chef Barrie Cullinan. A tour of the property was kick-started by incredible bloody mary’s spiked with the juice from those homemade pickles.

In the evening conversation was easy as friends and like-minded people saddled up to the bar surrounding the kitchen. Among the guests, Larry Butler and Carol Ann Sayle (Boggy Creek Farm), David Cater (Utility Research Garden), Michael Brantley (Austin’s Eastside Showroom), David and Katie (Tecolote Farm), food writer Addie Broyles (Austin-American Statesman), and photographer Penny De Los Santos swapped stories as they munched on pickled cherries, green beans and shallots from Ryan Adams (Nose to Tail at Home).

As red wine was poured, everyone grabbed a plate to fill up with roasted okra; fresh creamer peas studded with house-cured bacon, fresh tarragon & basil; a salad of arugula and pear from Boggy Creek Farm dotted with Pure Luck goat cheese; fresh mesquite-smoked veggies and lamb ribs from Cartwright – smoked over mesquite for hours then finished in a homemade red wine BBQ sauce. Tres Leches cake baked by Rather in honor of Sayle’s (belated) birthday provided the perfect sweet treat to top it all off.

I first met Cartwright during a Central Market cooking class that he was teaching with Chef Lou Lambert (Lambert’s BBQ). The class was entertaining with incredible food being prepared by Lambert and Texas tall-tales being spun by Cartwright, all the while a massive summer thunderstorm was brewing outside. Afterwards, waiting for the storm to subside, I found myself standing outside the store eating chocolate with him, talking about food blogging, food salons and his crazy schedule of promoting his lamb and local food.

“My life is a little complicated right now,” he said. “I spend about two weeks a month on the ranch with Daddy (the patriarch of the family, Lon Cartwright, 86, lives on the ranch too), and the other two I’m traveling between Fredericksburg, San Antonio and Austin getting the lamb processed, delivered to restaurants and working the markets. I drive over 800 miles a month.”

If ever there was a figure that could bring together so many different people interested in cultivating a stronger, more sustainable local food system, it would be Cartwright. Affable, engaging and downright fun to be around, he exudes a schoolboy-like charm that brings you in to his world and makes you want to get on board. Just having a five minute conversation with him can result in the most memorable five minutes you might ever spend.

“I wish there was a hundred of me,” said Cartwright as we watched another thunderstorm flicker and crash in the South Texas distance. “I can feed maybe 500, 1000 families with my lamb. That’s not enough. We need to do better.”

“But what I’d also like to see,” he continued, “is these things [food salons] happening in other states too. I’m the only one doing this that I know of and my hope is that the word will start to spread, that people in other states will start connecting the dots too – inviting all these different folks to get together and spend a weekend eating, talking and spreading the word about local food.”

Olivia is newish to the Austin restaurant scene being only a year or so old, and was recently named as a Top Ten New Restaurant by Bon Appetit.

Chef Holmes and crew approach their menu with total focus on seasonality, sourcing the best local ingredients from area farms – Richardson Farms, Loncito’s Lamb, Boggy Creek Farm, Tecolote Farm, Rain Lily Farm and Green Gate Farms among them – creating simply elegant dishes on a menu that changes almost daily.

On the night that we dined one of those dishes included lamb fries, causing a simultaneous reaction from both my wife and I that we must have an order of them before anything else!

“Do they taste like chicken?”

Lamb fries are not really fries. In reality, they are the testicles of a lamb. And done well they are delicious!
Having never seen them on another menu, my only experience with eating lamb fries has been at Pete’s Place – the venerable Italian-American restaurant in Krebs, Oklahoma – where I’d been eating them since I was a boy.
Sliced thin and lightly fried with a dusting of Parmesan cheese and a squeeze of lemon juice, the lamb fries on Pete’s menu have a very mild lamb flavor, with a delicate and juicy meat. To say they tasted like chicken would be completely inaccurate but the flavor is mild enough that if you are trying to convince a ten year-old boy (or other lamb fry virgin) into eating them for the first time, saying that wouldn’t be out of place!

When Olivia’s little nuggets arrived at our table we were all set for a flavor explosion, each of us greedily grabbing one for a quick dip in the house-made mustard vinaigrette served along side on their way to our mouth. Instead we got hit with a blast of salt that overpowered the light, airy and delicately fried lamb. Not to be deterred, we tried another. Then another. Then we stopped. It was clear that this batch of lamb fries was over-salted and we sent them back.

Quite a inauspicious start to working together for the next week – sending back food to the chef and his kitchen you’ve been assigned to photograph!

However, the rest of our meal was spectacular – green gazpacho soup with cucumber melon and hint of jalapeno; smokey grilled corn on the cob from Richardson Farms; PEI mussels cooked in Lone Star beer with housemade sausage, garden peppers and grilled foccacia to soak up all the broth; a duck and mushroom risotto with chunks of smoked duck ham, cremini, oyster and portabella mushrooms; and perfectly cooked filet with foie gras. The service was impeccable and the evening was amazing. Stuffed and sated I was well nourished and educated on what was to come.

A lamb fried degree of separation.

James and I had arranged to meet at the restaurant the following morning. When I arrived he was already there loading large coolers in the back of his well-traveled pickup getting ready for our trip to Sunset Valley Farmers Market where we’d be picking up pork from Richardson Farms and possibly some lamb from Loncito Cartwright.
As we made our way into traffic, he said, “Man, I’m really sorry about those lamb fries last night. You were right, they were too salty.”

With that I launched into my story of lamb fries and how I was so excited because this place near where I went to high school in Oklahoma had the best lamb fries and we’d never seen ‘em on another menu, when he interrupted me with, “wait, you’re not talking about Pete’s Place are you?!”

Turns out his roommate in college graduated a year before me in high school and was a guy I knew well back in those days as our girlfriends had been close friends. Amazed by our connection, we also discovered that a close business partner of his father was also a close family friend of mine, and had spent a lot of time in McAlester. He had also eaten at Pete’s many times. “As a matter of fact,” he said, “Pete’s is why I have lamb fries on my menu.”

A simple and complex thing.

The idea for the story came to me while I was flipping through a food magazine and watching Top Chef simultaneously. As I thumbed the pages of the magazine it occurred to me that chefs (or cooks) are never really featured in their element. Usually a chef is shown in portrait or shots of their finished dishes, and aside from maybe Saveur, they are never shown in the back of the house performing their craft.

With massively popular “reality” shows like Top Chef, Iron Chef or Hell’s Kitchen I thought that fans of both food tv and magazines would love seeing a photo essay of chefs at work in the kitchen. The idea of focusing on chefs or restaurants that were sourcing a majority of their menu as locally as possibly was also appealing as a way to possibly enlighten readers about the benefits of eating as locally as they can.

I spent a week with the Olivia staff, following them to the markets, hanging out in the restaurant when Morgan made fresh pasta or Jacob worked on the housemade charcuterie. And I was there for service on a busy Friday night, behind the line alongside them as they worked the stoves, creating dish after dish of simple, gorgeous food.
The kitchen at Olivia is not big – stoves and burners and a grill line the back wall with a prep counter and fridges running the frontside just under the pass. What struck me as interesting was there were no warming lights in the pass. This makes for an interesting view from the kitchen out into the open dining room. Above the pass on the kitchen side are bookshelves lined with cookbooks.

During one of the shoots James pulled down several of the cookbooks, talking about inspirations gleaned from the recipes, and about his philosophy on food. Reaching for his well-thumbed copy of Simple French Food by Richard Olney, he instinctively turned to a section scribbled with notes and underlined text, pointing to this passage:
“Simplicity – no doubt – is a complex thing. And the complexity of conceiving the larger symphony, a simple menu, must receive a bow of respect…”

On the wall in the server area just on the other side of the kitchen hangs a portrait of the venerable Texas country outlaws, Waylon & Willie, passed down from Holmes’ grandfather, and the irony of their sly grins isn’t lost on Holmes. Their music, like the quote from Olney, is simple but with a sophistication and complexity not readily acknowledge. So is the food that Olivia puts out. The fresh local ingredients bely their sophisticated preparations to appear as a simple plate of food, masking the skill and craft used in their creation.

The thrill that’ll get you when you get your picture…

Working in a commercial restaurant kitchen is a delicate ballet of chaos and precision. Usually crammed in too small spaces, chefs and line cooks typically work in a fevered focus, producing dish after dish. Toss a photographer into that mix and it could be recipe for disaster.
In my case, I have spent enough time working in restaurant kitchens that I know the movements and the language to blend in. That helps when your camera hovers next to their ear, shooting over their shoulder, perched atop a milk crate in the middle of the line to get a bird’s eye view, or crouching on the floor peeking in blazing hot ovens. I discovered that photographing cooks during a dinner rush can be just as exhilarating as being one of them. At the end of the shift I too was covered in sweat and grease and smelled like a kitchen but flush with the satisfaction that comes after making it through the other side of a busy dinner rush.

The pleasure of eating some of the best of what Austin’s food scene has to offer, of making new friends, of having my work featured on the cover of Edible Austin, all made this assignment an amazing experience. James and his crew were gracious and welcoming from the beginning and made it so easy for me to capture them in their element performing their brilliant craft. On my last night there I ordered the lamb fries again along with a host of other dishes. The lamb fries came out perfect – light and airy with a crisp texture giving way to the juicy meat inside and balanced perfectly with the right amount of seasoning. Simplicity, no doubt, is a complex thing.

A slight drip of juice ran down my chin as I took my first bite. Held in my hands was a duo of corn tortillas cradling the juicy, shredded pork leg, grilled white onions, queso fresco, avocado, cilantro and the piquant tomatillo sauce and lime juice that I’d drizzled across the top. Pierna. Pork leg. This was the taco I’d been hoping to eat on our recent Austin foodie taco tour of Houston, and I wasn’t disappointed.

Taqueria El Ultimo Taco sits unassumingly in the parking lot of an old coin-operated, bright yellow car wash on Houston’s Long Point Road, and according to Shilcutt, one of the most popular on this long stretch of taco trucks and car washes.

As our caravan of cars rolled into the car wash parking lot, and we spilled out into the hot Texas heat like the cast from Reservoir Dogs, toting  cameras and ravenous looks of hunger, we must have been quite a sight to Guillermo and his taco crew. The ear to ear smile on his face as we approached his artfully adorned taco truck said it all and became one of the many highlights of the day.

The tour began at 10:30am at Jarro Cafe. Boasting of having “the best tacos in town“, it had once started out as a simple black-painted taco cart but has since expanded into a full-blown restaurant. We started our day inside noshing on breakfast tacos (tocino, papas, huevos y queso, among others), making our introductions to each other as we rolled into town, or out of bed, and made our game plan for the rest of the day.

Having taken on the role of tour guide, Jay next led us to Taqueria Cuernavaca, for an order of Al Pastor (pork) and Suadero (beef) tacos. This taco truck, located on the edge of a dusty gravel parking lot, offers five taco truck staples for .99/ea and does carhop service so you can enjoy your cheap eats in the comfort of AC rather than stand out in the sweltering TX heat like we did.

While snacking, the subject of fried chicken came up (hey, we are foodies after all!) and Jay suggested we make a detour to a Guatemalan fried chicken joint. Of course, our stomachs jumped at the sound of this and we all agreed, with visions of a ramshackle, metal-roofed dive serving up fried plaintains and crazy good, seasoned fried chicken. Imagine our surprise as we pulled into a strip mall and caught site of Pollo Campero – what might as well be the Latin American version of KFC.

Our illustrious guide could sense our apprehension and assured us that when the place first opened, homesick Latinos’ cars would line up down the street to get a taste of home. I could relate to this. Ever the American on vacation, I recalled feeling this same way once in the Hong Kong airport waiting on a flight back to the States, when I caught sight of Burger King in the food court and rushed over to devour a Double Whopper with Cheese (mustard, pickles only) in seconds flat while my wife just stared at me in disgust (and then asked for a bite).

Aside from it’s flourescent-lit fast foodness, the chicken wasn’t half-bad. A crispy, sweet skin that led way to a very moist, if not overly-salted, meat inside. But tacos were what we came for and this diversion just didn’t live up to what we were there to devour. Out we rolled on to Long Point Road.

Long Point Road might very well be the taco truck/trailer capital of the world. With directions upon leaving Pollo Campero to head down the street a few blocks, pass the car wash and we’d see it on the right. Easing out of the parking lot, we stopped at a traffic signal and on the right, not one, but three mobile tacos – a blue bus, and two trailers. Down the street a bit – a car wash and a taco truck. Then another. And another. By the time we’d reached the aforementioned Taqueria El Ultimo Taco, we’d passed so many that I was wondering out loud why we didn’t just put a car at both ends of Long Point Road and walk the length of it, stopping at each of them along the way? (Hmm…maybe a good idea for an Autumn Taco Tour?)

Our third taco stop found us being joined by new Houston foodies and saying farewell to others. We stood in the shade of a car wash stall, sipping ice cold Tecate, devouring our tacos, and soaking up the heat of this hot Texas day while taking pictures and revelling in the joy of how good food and cold beer can bring people together. Fat and happy we could have called it a day but there was at least one more stop along the way. Our man Jay had one more place we needed to try – Home of the Best Cabrito in Houston. Off we went.

We found El Hidalquense at the end of a washed-out cinder block strip mall that included among other things a Thai market and a Vietnamese restaurant. Huge banners boasted of being Houston Press’ Home of the Best Cabrito lined the concrete walls outside. Son Jarocho-style music spilled out onto the sidewalk as we opened the door, and we found three musicos on a makeshift stage at the front of the restaurant in mid-song. A woman was tending to a tortilleria while a couple handfuls of tables filled with locals, ate, drank and sang along. This place had ambiance in spades.

Taking a table off to the side of the room, trays of free tequila shots, plates of taquitos and bowls of smokey chipotle salsa were quickly bestowed upon us. This place just kept getting better. Toasts to our taco-ness and new friendships abound, we were swaying to the groove, ready to dig in. The menu, arriving in a three-ring binder wasn’t the easiest thing to navigate and we became confused as to what tacos we could order, so we decided to wing it, and ordered one lamb, one cabrito taco. No go. As it turns out, El Hidalquense, only serves goat in whole fashion, family-style and there was none to be had on this day. So it was lamb tacos for us.

I love lamb. Next to pork it’s my favorite meat. I was so excited for these tacos. Arriving on a flour tortilla bed, topped with onion, cilantro and lime, my first bite of the juicy, shredded meat fell flat on my palate. I added a little of the smokey salsa, a dash of lime juice, a hint of salt. Better but not best. The lamb felt slightly mushy with no real lamb taste. I so loved this place that I wanted this taco to seal the deal – make me want to pack up the family, find a little place nearby and spend our Sunday afternoons languishing in the AC, singing and dancing along with the musicos, leaving greasy-faced and full. Luckily, for my wife we’re safe in Austin for now, but a return trip for the cabrito, the smokey salsa and the atmosphere is needed. Not a bad place to spend a couple hours on a hot, summer afternoon.

Somehow we drummed up the stamina to tackle one more destination. There were taco trucks out back of Canino’s Produce Market that we needed to try. With stomach’s full we arrived at this indoor/outdoor farmer’s market late in the day, and I quickly forgot about eating. It was time do some shopping!

When you walk through the front doors you’ll find a pretty straight-forward produce market with beautiful fruit and veggies at rock-bottom prices. This isn’t Central Market or Whole Foods, so not much in the way of organic, or even local, to be found, but head to the back of the market and you’ll transported to another place. Small vendors selling dried peppers, spices, powders, flowers, peppers, fruit – you name it. A whole post should be devoted to this market and it’s more than enough reason for any serious food person to make a trip to Houston.

The market would be our final stop. Full from a day of taco trucking, sun-soaked from concrete parking lots and the hot Texas sun, well-rested from our respite in the cool confines of El Hidalquense, and excited about the new friends and finds we’d made, we still had that drive back to Austin to make.

–

Our rag tag band of traveling taco hounds consisted of a mix of Austin (Mando Rayo, Nelson Flores, Jam Sanichat, Ian Marshall Knox) and Houston (Jay P. Francis, Juan Carlos and Geraldina Reina) foodies, journalists (Addie Broyles, Alison Cook, Robb Walsh and Katharine Shilcutt) and photographers (Penny De Los Santos).

–

Don’t forget to check out mi compadres taco tour write-ups:
Mando, Taco Journalism
Addie, Relish Austin
Nelson, Show Me Your Taco

Handy glossary of taco truck terms for your next taco safari.

(or how I learned to stop worrying and love head cheese)

What the hell is head cheese? That’s what I’ve always thought as it looked at me ominously and disgusting from the supermarket deli case. Something so unappetizing that I never thought to give it a shot; due in large part to the name. What the hell? As equally gross and disgusting sounding as the finished product had always looked. I’ve never been to France (or Europe) so scratch out having an opportunity to eat something authentic and possibly delicious.

When I read the description for Dai Due’s The Whole Hog class, I saw that among the other delightful and delicious pork offerings the class would also be making head cheese. Good. Once and for all I’d get to find out just WTF head cheese was. I figured if I saw how it was made, participated in its preparation I’d be OK with it. Scheduled during the 6-7 hour class was also lots of sausage recipes and a fantastic sounding braised-roasted pork belly that would be the by-product of learning how to butcher a hog.

Tucked away on a secret street bordering the railroad tracks was Chef Jesse Griffiths kitchen, the setting for our dismantling of our lovely porcine friend. When I arrived the air was already filled with pork but not the kind of pork you’d readily recognize. I couldn’t quite place my finger, nose, to it but it seemed familiar and exotic at the same time. Once inside the kitchen Jesse showed me around, pointing out the hog’s head already in a huge stockpot filled with water and aromatics, it’s piggy snout just peeking out.

There it was. The head. Our foil for the head cheese we’d be making later. It was exciting. I’ve been cooking all my life but never experienced a hog’s head in a stockpot. I worked in countless restaurant’s during my 20’s and still no piggy snout sticking out of a slowly simmering pot of water. This was the real deal. What have I gotten myself into?

Our 150+lb. half-pig came from Richardson Farms in Rockdale, TX, about 60 miles NE of Austin, and I’ll admit at first glance it looked a little intimidating. Once Jesse walked us through the butchering sequence it all started to fall into place. First you remove the head and get the head cheese started. The head will boil in a stock pot full of water and those aromatics for 5-6 hours, until the meat is falling off the bone (see recipe below). During this time the rest of the butchering happens, next removing the trotters (unfortunately, ours were already removed) and then the tenderloin.

In a grocery store or meat market the tenderloin looks small but nothing like it does when you’re removing it from the pig yourself and laying it against the ribs and belly. For all it’s treasured taste, it’s really only a minor primal cut compared to what else a half-hog yields. Kinda surprising to me that people go crazy for this little piece of meat with all the other possibilities. Marketing I guess.

After the tenderloin is removed it’s time to remove the highly coveted pork belly. The pork belly, or bacon, deserves its reverence among foodies and chefs. Done well, it can be transporting but done poorly it’s just a soggy, greasy mess. Fortunately, at the hands of Jesse and his unique braise/roast method, the belly he served at the Boucherie the following night truly was magical. Unctuous and decadent, with a crisp outer layer of skin (roast) and moist, tender meat underneath (braise). From here you could also slice the belly thin into what is commonly known as strips of bacon.

Once you’ve cut out the belly, the shoulder is next. The shoulder comes from the front leg of the pig and is commonly referred to as a picnic shoulder (top) and boston butt (bottom). This is where you’re pulled pork sandwiches come from, but for this class we were making sausage. And this brings up a good point. There are numerous ways to butcher a pig and for this class our purpose was to use the bulk of the meat for housemade sausages, pates, rillettes, terrines and head cheese. The “sausage method” is a great way to make use of all the meat from the pig, giving you the ability to stretch out the yield if, for instance, you were feeding 30-40 people with it.

The loin and the ham (back leg) are the last two cuts to make. From here if you were inclined you could make spare ribs, leave the ribs on the loin for a crown or standing-rib roast, or use them for stock and sausage making. Normally, the ham has a pretty specific use but our pig had so much fat (a good thing!) thus being extraordinarily well-marbled that we cut it up into chunks and tossed it into the grinder for sausages too.

Various assemblages of pates, brining of the loin (it will be spit-roasted the next day for the Boucherie), rendering the lard and then stuffing the sausages all happened next. Lots of work going into what would be our dinner the next night. Once all this was complete it was time to make the head cheese.

Our piggy head had been simmering in its water bath since before we arrived (about 6 hours ago) and it was falling off the bone done. Deftly using a set of tongs, Jesse’s sous chef Sonja removed the head and placed it in a bowl to cool. Once cool enough to handle we all dug in and started separating the good pieces of meat (like the cheek – OMG – as good as the shoulder if not better) from the waste. Steaming clouds of pork rose from the bowl and filled our nostrils and that’s when it hit me. That smell that I couldn’t place when I first arrived.

A few years ago we were in Beijing and Hong Kong. During our trip we walked alot and down every side street or store front we passed this smell wafted out from the doors of countless neighborhood Beijing cafes and restaurants. I could never put my finger on it then. It was a smell that I’d never encountered before. Not bad; not necessarily pleasant. Just different. Exotic I guess. Hard to think the smell of simmering pigs head as exotic with them being such an ingrained part of food cultures worldwide, but it was just that. Exotic.

With my hands deep into the head of a pig, tasting thinly sliced pig’s ear and tiny chunks of tongue I’d realized this too was exotic. At least to me. Tucked into this tiny cottage kitchen by the railroad tracks I’d come full circle to something – a smell at least – that I’d experience half-way around the world. A smell and experience that I wouldn’t soon forget. And I wasn’t afraid of head cheese anymore.

Head Cheese
Recipe used 
with the permission of Chef Jesse Griffiths, Dai Due

1 pig’s head
2 pig’s trotters (ok to leave out if not available)
carrots
onions, peeled,
whole
 spices (clove, cinnamon, allspice, coriander wrapped in cheesecloth bag)
bay leaves
shallots or small red onion, minced
orange or tangerine zest
white vinegar (can sub apple cider or wine vinegar)
parsley, chopped
spices (ground cinnamon, clove, ginger, allspice, nutmeg)
salt and pepper

Place the head and trotters in a large pot and cover with cold water. Bring to a boil, skim any foam that rises to the surface, and lower to a simmer. Add the spice bag and bay leaves and cook for one hour, skimming and fat or foam that rises to the surface. Add the carrots and onions and cook for two more hours, or until the meat is very tender. Allow the head to cool completely in the broth. Combine the shallots or onion with the vinegar and set aside. Pick all the meat from the head and trotters and chop roughly. Dice the carrots and set aside. Peel the skin from the tongue and cut into a small dice. Combine the chopped meat, carrots, spices and salt and pepper and set aside. Bring the stock to a boil, skim and lower to a simmer. Cook until reduced to 1 1/2 cups, about 3 or 4 hours. Skim occasionally. Drain the vinegar from the shallots or onion and add to the meat mixture along with some chopped parsley. Check the seasoning; it should be highly seasoned with spices, salt and pepper, as it will be served cold. Put all the meat into a loaf pan or terrine mold lined with plastic wrap, and pour the reduced stock over it. Refrigerate overnight, or until completely set. Unmold and slice with a sharp, thin-bladed knife.

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Richardson Farms, 2850 CR 412, Rockdale, 512.446.2306
A family run farm, the Richardsons specialize in “no-plow” tillage and in addition to the free-range pigs, raise broiler chickens, grass- and grain-fed beef. You can order their meats online, or visit them on Wednesday’s at the Austin Farmer’s Market at the Triangle, or Saturdays at the Sunset Valley Farmer’s Market.