Ferrandi Flashback: Boucherie

No, you haven't accidentally clicked on the wrong blog.  You are absolutely not on some weird Silence of the Lambs fansite.  You are simply viewing what I saw when I walked into Boucherie (Butchery) class last December.  Still kind of creepy, though, huh?

With the push of a button the butcher carted in this hook.

Attached to it was this lamb.

He showed us how to cut all the different pieces of meat using said lamb.  Here, as you can see, he cuts it in half.  Just like that.

Not all of us were fans of this class.  And I certainly wasn't a fan of the outfit they made us wear.  For the second time in six months, I felt like I was in the movie "The Hot Zone" and any second the person next to me was going to die of ebola.

Thankfully, that wasn't the case.  Instead, the person next to me, the butcher himself, busted out a huge saw

and then a rather larger cleaver

to show us the most efficient way

to cut open the ribcage.

He then went about performing the task of cutting the ribs into racks.

Voila!

He also showed us how to cut the shoulder,

the loin,

and...wait for it...

the leg of lamb.

"Tada!" says Sonja.  We are finished with boucherie. 

Ferrandi Flashback: Poissonerie

Towards the end of our schooling at Ferrandi, we had a Meilleur Ouvrier de France (MOF) en Poissonerie teach us how to properly filet a fish.  The distinction of MOF en Poissonerie is literally translated as the best worker in France in fishmongering (although it makes more sense to just say the best fishmonger in France because I am fairly certain fishmongering is not really a word).  It's quite a big deal to be a MOF in anything.  Who knew, though, that there could be a MAF - Meilleur Apprentis de France, best apprentice in France?  On top of that, who knew that a MAF in Fishmongering (I plan to trademark that word) would be so stylish?

The MAF, sporting quite a stylish outfit to be handling fish.

The MOF.  You can always spot a MOF because their collars are blue, white and red for France.  No one else is allowed to have those colors on the collar of a chef's coat.

Showing us how to properly filet a fish.  Um, where were you in September, buddy, when we started school and were clueless?

My turn to try the mackeral.

Ta da!

The MOF and the MAF showed us how we could get all French and fancy with presenting a fish if we so desired. 

This one looked like Princess Leia to me.

And this was just gross.  Which fish did I just happen to pick out of the bin to filet?  This one with its nasty, smelly insides already coming out of a hole in the belly.

And it just kept getting worse each time I tried to filet it.

Hope you aren't eating lunch and reading this!  I don't say this often, but seriously eww.

Charcuterie: Part Deux

Yesterday, I introduced you to charcuterie.  Here is an account of our second day of charcuterie.  We made so many patés, patés en croute, sausages, rillettes, and other things I can't even spell that I hardly remember all their names.  Despite the lack of nomenclature, I hope you enjoy the photos.

This fat infused meat is headed for the vat of oil and garniture aromatique you see below.

Where it will cook until tender.

Later, people will rush to eat the pork before there is none left.

This is fat and onions with a bit of water for good measure, which will cook slowly throughout class.  It will later become part of the boudin noir sausages.  What exactly is a boudin noir sausage, you ask? Well...

It's blood sausage.  Yes, that is the pork's blood (I told you nothing was spared from a pig).  And, yes, that is the chef taking a spoon, dipping it in the blood and tasting it.  Why, those of you who haven't fainted and are still reading might ask?  To test its saltiness, of course.  Only amateurs don't do that.

With the largest ladle I have ever seen, he took the blood and poured it into the onion/fat mixture we cooked.

Et voila.

Again, he takes the ridiculously large ladle and dumps the sausage mixture into the casing.

Which instantly fills with the blood sausage.

And he ties it off to make the individual links until he ties one too tight and oops!  He seems undeterred and just forges ahead, making his links.  Kyoko, who was only about a milimeter away from being totally covered in uncooked blood sausage was not quite as undeterred as the chef.

Cooked and ready to eat. 

Moving on to paté.  We mixed together ground pork with seasonings and an egg.

And formed it into this pan before popping it into an oven to bake.

Next, we made liver paté.

The livers are blended in a large food processor.

A scoop of this aromatic milk is added.

And the color and taste change.

Into the moulds it goes to be baked.

More pork is ground using this small machine.

If we had an industry size amount of pork to grind we could use this machine, which I refer to as an arm taker-offer.  It's so big and powerful that if you stuck your hand in there, it would surely rip your arm off and no one wants your arm in their sausage, so please don't do that.

Once ground, we mixed the meat with some sautéed mushrooms to make boudin blanc.

And then we cooked them in water.

The chef pounding out dough for his paté en croute.

He lines the mould with the dough and then places the paté inside.

And he decorates it beautifully.  For some reason, it never ceases to amaze me when grown French men who seem quite brusque produce such delicate work.

As we wait for everything to bake, Isabelle decides to pass the time by taking her temperature.

Beautifully browned and baked, the patés are ready.  Bon Appetit!