Dairy Free

What traveler to faraway places with strange-sounding names hasn’t become enamored of the street food found along the way? As much as art, architecture, magnificent landscapes, and the people, the food attracts. Street food requires no formal dress, nor a large bank account. It is simply there for eating, either at the spot or on the move to the next point of interest. In keeping with the street-food theme, grill these sausages if you can. Otherwise, a brisk sauté on the stove top works well. The dipping sauce, nuoc cham, is the table sauce in Vietnamese dining, much like a cruet of vinegar and one of oil on an Italian table, a bottle of chile oil and one of soy sauce on a Chinese table, or fresh tomato salsa or salsa verde on a Mexican table. It is important to use a good-quality fish sauce, one that is smooth, rather than sharp. I recommend Thai Kitchen brand, generally available in well-stocked supermarkets these days and certainly available in Asian markets.

These small sausage balls, with their rice “quills” poking outward, are a dream for entertaining. They can be prepared ahead of time and refrigerated for up to 2 days before cooking to serve warm. The green tea leaves season the sausage with an exotic savor, and a side plate of hot-sweet mustard, soy sauce, and Asian sesame oil for dipping, all out of a jar or bottle, suffice to complete the dish’s charm. Although the meatballs have a pedigree in Chinese cuisine made with glutinous, or sweet, rice, I prefer to use regular rice. If you don’t have a bamboo steamer basket, a plate lined with lettuce leaves can substitute. The trick here is to rig up something, such as an empty can in the bottom of the pot, to elevate the plate above the water. Covering the pot will allow enough steam to collect around the plate for the balls to cook.

Water chestnuts are an underwater corm, and as you might imagine if you consider their natural environment, they are plump with water and crunchy. Their taste, on the other hand, is hard to pinpoint: it’s a cross between jicama and sugarcane with a hint of nuttiness, all diluted with water. In other words, it is somewhat bland. They are often used in Chinese and Southeast Asian dishes, mainly in stir-fries, for their snappy bite. That is also what they contribute to this sausage, which features Asian tastes. I use the sausage for stuffing wontons (page 55), for making small balls to top steamed rice, for mixing into udon noodles, or for wrapping in lettuce leaves as the Thai and Laotians do with minced meats (page 119) and the Vietnamese do with savory meatballs (page 60). Fresh water chestnuts are rarely found in markets, even those geared to an Asian clientele. They are seasonal and as much of a chore to peel as tree chestnuts (not a relative, despite the name). Canned water chestnuts fill that niche. They are available in grocery stores where even only a small amount of space is devoted to Asian ingredients. This sausage recipe calls for much less than what you get in a 6-ounce can, usually the smallest size sold. The remainder can be stored covered with fresh water in the refrigerator and used in homey stir-fries, salads, and slaws.

Somewhere in the land space between Asia and Europe, pork became a rare ingredient in cooking. In most of those lands, it was because pork is proscribed for religious reasons. But then there are noticeable exceptions. In Armenia, Georgia, and Greece, pork appears on menus, though never in the exalted number of dishes that it does in the surrounding cuisines of Europe, Southeast Asia, or China. The disparity remains a mystery to me. There is no religious prohibition in these places, and pigs don’t require vast ranges or grasslands to thrive. Indeed, a small pen in the home yard does nicely. Perhaps it is because of the influence of their neighbors. The Armenians, Georgians, and Greeks are Christians, but they are flanked by Muslims and, if contiguous populations don’t insist on warring with one another, they intermingle, which means, most profoundly, they come together at the table. Thus, if you can’t share a pork dish with your neighbors, you might instead choose lamb or beef for a multicultural, convivial affair. In any case, the Greeks have retained in their repertoire a pork-based sausage that includes a bit of beef and is aromatic with orange zest and coriander and extra zesty with chile flakes. It imports with ease to anywhere such a sausage is wanted.

In the annals of folk medicine, watercress soup is said to be good for soothing a dry throat or for when a general system-cleansing tonic is needed. Here, the nip and pep of watercress infuses chicken broth made rich with slivers of shiitake mushroom and plump sausage-filled wontons to produce a new take on wonton soup that is both healthful and delicious. Hydroponic watercress, meaning watercress grown in water and without soil, closely resembles watercress you might pick alongside a running stream in spring, but it has finer, more delicate stems and far less dirt and sand on its leaves. It is often available year-round in supermarket produce sections.

In a showcase dish for slow-cooking-meets-quick-and-easy, sausage and lentils come together in a hearty combination for cool weather. The slow part is making the sausage, which is actually a cinch and can be done days in advance. The quick-and-easy part is that the dish cooks in about half an hour. Of all the many, many kinds of lentils, which vary in size, color, and their use in cooking, French green lentils are perfect for preparations such as this one where you want the lentils to cook up soft to the center while retaining their shape and not collapsing into a puree, as would be desirable, for instance, in an Indian dal. The soupçon of balsamic vinegar is stirred in just before serving so its tang and aroma remain bright and boldly present, not faded into the background.

Herbaceous and zesty, this sausage is an excellent all-purpose choice for whenever you want to add a sausage element that is neither too strident nor too wimpy. I especially like it for the vindaloo on page 49, where it stands up to the other forceful seasonings in the dish.

The familiar Polish sausage known as kielbasa was introduced to American cuisine in the neighborhoods of Chicago, New York, New Jersey, Pennsylvania, and Michigan, where many Polish immigrants settled during the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. Nowadays, kielbasa is widely produced commercially and is marketed to food purveyors nationwide. It is usually smoked and sandwiched in a hot dog bun, tucked into a hearty cabbage borscht, or added to a robust sauerkraut dish (page 46). That is not the whole story, however. Kielbasa is actually the generic term for sausage in Polish and there are many versions. I prefer a fresh, not smoked, sausage, but with a hint of ham to suggest a smoky flavor.

One morning, Penny Brogden, my longtime friend and coworker at Pig-by-the Tail, came dancing into the kitchen, exclaiming, “I did the Polish sausages for dinner last night the best way ever! I glazed them with honey and baked them.” We tried the same preparation on the spot, and she was right. It was a fabulous way to give the ordinary a new polish. We advised customers who purchased Polish sausage to make the dish, too, and it was included in American Charcuterie, my book of recipes from Pig-by-the-Tail. If you are not set up for stuffing the sausage into hog casing, form it into links, wrap the links in cheesecloth, and refrigerate overnight (see page 154).

The fennel-spiked sausage that turns up in such favorite Italian American preparations as pizza, meatball sandwiches (page 38), custardy casseroles, and savory pies has so captured the heart of American cooking that it can be found in supermarkets and deli cases from the Atlantic seaboard to the Pacific Northwest and everywhere in between. Not only is it one of the tastiest and most popular sausages, but it is also one of the easiest to make at home because it doesn’t require a casing. In fact, most recipes call for taking it out of its casing. If you want to serve the sausage as links, stuff it into hog casing. The recipe yields a larger amount than the other recipes in the book because this sausage is so versatile that I like to have some on hand in the freezer.

On my brief sojourn in the Toulouse area, I traveled to many local villages and towns acclaimed for their charcuterie. Among them was Castelnaudary, a small village built of stone, close by the fairy-tale-like medieval castle of Carcassonne. The castle was a thrill; even more so was the cassoulet I enjoyed in Castelnaudary, known as the cradle of cassoulet. I mustered the nerve to ask the chef what his secret was. He graciously shared his version of “the cassoulet secret”: The kind of beans you use is crucial. They should be lingot beans, also called white kidney beans or cannellini beans, or coco beans, which resemble slightly elongated navy beans. Both are sweetly buttery and cook up soft and tender enough to soak up juices, but still hold their shape. Then, the beans must be allowed to cool completely in their cooking liquid before assembling the cassoulet. Overnight is best. Stuffed whole duck legs (drumstick and thigh combination) make a delectable sausage star for a faux cassoulet. To sidestep the lengthy process of curing the duck overnight then braising it in duck fat to make confit, the whole legs are sprinkled with a salt and herb seasoning and refrigerated for a few hours to allow the seasonings to imbue. The sausage is then stuffed under the thigh skin, making a single package of sausage and duck meat.

I opened Pig-by-the-Tail because I wanted to bring to the American marketplace the charcuterie I had fallen in love with on sojourns to France, Spain, Italy, Germany, and Austria. Two years after its debut, I decided it was time to put some “bones” onto that passion. I traveled to France to learn from M. Roger Gleize, the charcutier in the small town of Revel in the Haute-Garonne just outside of Toulouse. It was an eye-opening experience to watch him use a hand grinder to grind pounds and pounds of perfectly succulent pork, not too lean, not too fat, for the region’s specialty Toulouse sausage. He seasoned the meat with salt, peppers, and a dash each of nutmeg and sugar, and then added a soupçon of water to moisten the mixture for easier stuffing. He fitted the same manual machine with a sausage-stuffing funnel and proceeded to turn out a seemingly endless supply of fresh Toulouse sausages. Everything he made was quickly purchased by local households to use for their daily meals and by local restaurants to include in the renowned cassoulet of the region. From that sojourn, I carried home a deep admiration for simply, yet perfectly done ways with food, and Toulouse sausage became one of my go-to household sausages. For this book, I have modified the recipe to call for bulk sausage, rather than links. But, if you would like to follow tradition, use hog casing.

Mexican meatballs are typically made with a mix of pork and beef (or veal) and include bread crumbs or rice to plump them and egg to bind the ingredients. From there, seasoning variations abound: garlic and/or onion, or not; herbs and/or spices (usually cumin and oregano, sometimes mint); elements such as raisins and/or olives (a Peruvian variation); and so on. Zucchini, the “special ingredient” I use here, was suggested by Mexican cooking maven Diana Kennedy. It lightens and freshens the sausage in a way I find pleasing, so I use it for my basic recipe.

Omelet, frittata, egg tortilla—all are different words for essentially the same thing: eggs mixed with vegetable and/or meat bits and cooked into a cake or pancakelike round. The advantage of this version is that it follows the Spanish or Italian custom of baking the assembled dish. That means no intimidating calisthenics to flip the cake to cook the second side. I serve this informal dish in its cooking skillet, but it’s also easy to lift it out onto a platter.

Chorizo, at home in many cuisines, appears with multiple ethnic faces from Spain and Portugal to Mexico, South America, and the Latino-inspired cooking of the American Southwest. It can be stuffed into hog casing and used fresh, or briefly aged in the casing to dry out and intensify the flavors. Sometimes it is smoked, becoming more like a salami in texture. Often it is used fresh in bulk for dishes that benefit from a hit of red and spice. This version comes from Anzonini, a flamenco guitarist and world-class chorizo maker, who generously offered his recipe to Pig-by-the-Tail. We made tons of it, and it was always special! On chorizo-making day, the links were hung on the baking-tray rack for a few hours to dry and compact. The dangling sausages festooned the kitchen like chile-red curtains. It was a spectacle of hospitality and appreciated, judging by the number of customers who came to purchase some to take home when they were “done.”

In the early eighteenth century, Spanish colonists brought a paprika-and-cayenne-seasoned sausage to Louisiana, where they added fresh red chiles and a dash of vinegar to create what is now known as Creole sausage. It is an assertive sausage that rings out “Let the good times roll!” It dances sprightly in gumbo with shrimp and oysters (page 21) and lends vivacity to a New Orleans plate with crab cakes and Cajun rémoulade (page 128). It is also delicious formed into appetizer-size balls, sautéed, and served with rémoulade for dipping.

Sausage in a gumbo usually means smoked sausage. Sometimes Louisiana smoked ham, called tasso, is also added or is used in place of the sausage. A roux (a mixture of flour and fat) is the traditional thickener, usually augmented with filé powder (ground dried sassafras leaves) or okra. In keeping with today’s taste for lighter fare, I swap the smoked sausage and/or ham for my homemade sausage and eliminate the roux. The okra alone does the thickening, and the step of soaking the okra pods in a salt-and-vinegar bath before adding them to the pot ensures they won’t be overly viscous. It is important to use dried herbs and canned tomatoes to produce the distinguishing flavors of this dish from a cuisine built around preserved goods. Make sure the okra is fresh, however. I like to use shrimp in the shell because they enrich the broth. That does make for somewhat messy eating, however. If you want to save your guests the trouble of peeling their own shrimp, remove the shells and simmer them in 1 cup of the broth, then strain the liquid into the pot when adding the remainder of the broth. Shell-on shrimp are easy enough to devein, if it’s necessary to do so, by simply cutting through the shell along the back of each shrimp with a sharp paring knife.

Bourbon whiskey, a uniquely American spirit, can be used in cooking the same way wine often is in French recipes, as a splash that lends a subtle, aromatic presence and a bit of moisture. A whiskey sausage, with its breath of musty sage, makes a perfect grilling patty for sandwiching in a bun smeared with tomato chutney. Or, you can roll the sausage into small balls and serve them with the chutney as a dipping sauce. Two things distinguish this speedy chutney from bona fide tomato ketchup: its consistency is a little looser and less dense, and it is made in little more than half an hour. It will keep in the refrigerator for up to 2 months before its savor diminishes. Use it also to accompany pork chops or grilled chicken or game.

Rice, plainly steamed, is an underpinning, accompaniment, or ingredient for many dishes, both in this book and in kitchens around the world. In order to avoid the confusion that can result because of the many kinds of rice available, I have come to rely on a basic method for preparing steamed rice that works whether you need cooked rice for adding to a recipe or serving as a side dish. It is easy to do, though you must pay attention to when it comes to a boil and then promptly turn down the heat before it boils over, makes a mess on the stove, and turns out mushy rather than in beautifully individual grains. For other rice recipes in the book, see South African Sausage with Collard Greens, Ethiopian Spiced Butter, and Cashew Rice (page 69), Paella with Chorizo, Shrimp, and Baby Artichokes (page 130), and Brown Rice, Walnut, and Dandelion Green Veg “Sausage” Wrapped in Cabbage Leaves with Tomato-Caper Sauce (page 151).

Breakfast sausage, in patties or links, is a staple of the great American breakfast plate. It’s an important player in the hearty, stoke-up-for-the-day meal that includes eggs, cooked anyway you’d like; toast or pancakes; and mugs of hot java. It is served on the road as early as 4 a.m. to truckers and workers off to the fields or factories. A bit later, it feeds tourists fueling up for a day’s adventure of skiing, mountain climbing, and other energetic activities. And on Sunday mornings, home-style cafes are filled with customers looking to splurge calories on a big breakfast out. But you don’t need to stop at breakfast when using this sausage. It also makes a delicious taco filling or pizza topping. As often as not, breakfast sausage is served in patties, but if you prefer links, you can stuff it into sheep casing.