As a child “the only way we had to preserve the meat was to salt it or put it in a jar, crock pot like, and put it in the cistern deep down underground in the cold water,” he recalled.
was linked and ready to be bathed in the simmering stock. One of the kids drew near, watching, hoping to catch a glimpse of the action. The music paused just as a sausage casing snapped.
Carl’s skill at enriching a backbone stew was an ill-kept secret. Well before the stew was ready it was much discussed, and a long anticipatory line formed in front of the old black pots he was tending. More coldbeer disappeared.
With a little tray of the head cheese pie in hand, Lance pointed out that today’s boucherie was no accident, no quaint homage or nostalgic nod to earlier times. Today’s boucherie was by necessity; a preservation of a dying tradition from one generation to the next. More than an excuse to stand and stir and drink, the day’s festivities were blanketed by an awareness of context and seriousness of purpose.
Andy and Dave partitioned the shoulders and legs into softball sized pieces for the grinding station to make sausages, the ponce, and the boudin. The loin was reserved for tasso and more ribs and chops were sent off to the BBQ station, which would soon be cranking out the next round of food. By the time the bags of cracklins were emptied so too was the table that just 45 minutes prior held a whole hog. We were in full swing. The music got louder. With the table clean and the meat ground, Dave set about making the boudin. In a huge vat of boiling water, Andy — who had finally broken a sweat — put in chunks of shoulder and butt and handfuls of pork trimmings. Red and black pepper and salt went into the cauldron with little need for measurement. The meat and spices and a bone or two would soon become a flavorful pork stock. As the meat simmered away, Dave hoisted an enormous ancient cast iron stuffer onto the table. The stuffer, built decades ago by the Enterprise Manufacturing Company, bore the scars of generations of use. A huge tray of Louisiana white rice was deposited on the table as Andy and Dave mixed together seasoned ground pork and liver.
Fully embracing his role as a cultural preservationist Lance, in his own Cajun way, takes pleasure in the responsibility. Referencing his invocation given just hours earlier, he clearly relishes the “honor we have in keeping old traditions.” To continue forward, the adults must teach the younger generation the importance of heritage, so that they too will want to have their own boucherie with their own children. It is a “community based on common interest rather than geography” Lance says. And so they stand and stir the pot together. “Let's have a few beers at home and stir a pot, that’s what we used to do. It’s the best way to keep the conversation going. That is what we used to do,” said the man still doing it.
The meat was combined with the cooked rice and into the stuffer it went. Within minutes a huge coil of boudin
(Clockwise from top left, across both pages) Grinding the shoulder meat for the smoked sausage; Carl Pitre tending to his backstone stew; Stuffing the andouille sausage; Andouille sausage hanging in the pecan wood smoker with pieces of tasso peeking through from the back; Loading the smoker.
may.jun 2012 | spensermag.com
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