boudin noir

My first morning on the farm, I moseyed on over to the charcuterie (the same general structure that houses some storage spaces, the patisserie, the boulangerie—really a huge wood-burning oven where they bake the bread, and the cheese cave). I was delighted to stumble upon Benedicte (married to the Pozzers’ middle-generation, Nicolas) getting ready to make what Daniel already tipped me off as the best boudin noir (blood sausage) in the region.

She had cooked (boiled) the heads, feet, lungs, and hearts, of the two pigs that had been slaughtered four days prior. Everything except the bones and the snouts got passed through the grinder. She fetched the bag of blood and added it to the mix, along with some onions, garlic, and seasoning, and mixed it all up. We sorted out the salted intestines (different pigs’) and started stuffing the casings. All this went back into the original cooking liquid for a few hours, just short of simmering. What came out was magic.

I ate the stuff for the next few days, a piece here and there for lunch—it really is the best I have had—it’s all the goodies that elevate it above the usual blood and fat mix. It’s a shame, but they stop slaughtering pigs during the summer: it gets too warm to properly handle the meat. This was sadly the last for the season, and the first of many reasons to come back.