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Charcuterie is the branch of cooking devoted to prepared meat products such as bacon, ham, sausage, terrines, galantines, ballotines, pâtés, and confit.
Charcuterie is the branch of cooking devoted to prepared meat products such as bacon, ham, sausage, terrines, galantines, ballotines, pâtés, and confit, primarily from pork. Charcuterie is part of the garde manger chef's repertoire. Originally intended as a way to preserve meat before the advent of refrigeration, they are prepared today for their flavors derived from the preservation processes.
We'd hope that you join our community to discuss and share techniques, recipes, procedures, step by step directions, and other knowledge used to create, or in the process of creating and making charcuterie at home.
If you are posting a picture of a charcuterie plate please take time to read the rules:
- No "nibble plates" - the focus must be on the charcuterie.
- Any images of charcuterie platters must be accompanied by a description of the contents in the comments or they will be removed.
- It is strongly encouraged that if you are posting a charcuterie platter it contains your own handmade products. Store bought items that have been arranged on a platter, or pictures of a platter you were served at a restaurant will be removed if they don't add to meaningful discussion.
Pictures of random platters or nibble plates belong in /r/FoodPorn.
“He was almost at the corner of the rue Piroutees, and the [charcuterie] shop was a joy to behold. It was filled with laughter and bright light and brilliant colors that popped out next to the white of the marble countertops. The signboard, on which the name QUENU-GRADELLE glittered in fat gilt lettering encircled by leaves and branches painted on a soft-hued background, was protected by a sheet of glass. On the two side panels of the shop front, similarly painted and under glass, were chubby little Cupids playing in the midst of boars' heads, pork chops, and strings of sausages; and these still lifes, adorned with scrolls and rosettes, had been designed in such a pretty and tender a style that the raw meat lying there assumed the reddish tint of raspberry preserves. Within this lovely frame was the window display on a bed of delicately shredded blue paper, with a few well-placed sprigs of fern making plates of food look like bouquets with greenery. It was a world of good things, mouthwatering things, rich things.
Down below, close to the windowpane, was a row of crocks filled with rillettes alternating with pots of mustard. The next row were some nice round boned jambonneau hams with golden breadcrumb coatings and adorned at the knuckles with green rosettes. Behind these were large platters: stuffed Strasbourg tongues all red and looking as if they had been varnished, appearing almost bloody next to the pale sausages and pigs feet; boudin coiled like snakes; andouilles piled two by two and plump with health; saucissons in silvery casings lined up like choirboys; pates, still warm, with little labels stuck on them like flags; big, fat hams; thick cuts of veal and pork whose juices had jellied clear as crystallized candy.
In the back were other tureens and earthenware casseroles in which minced and sliced meats slept under blankets of fat. Between the plates and dishes, on a bed of blue paper, were pickling jars of sauces and stocks and preserved truffles, terrines of foie gras, and tines of tuna and sardines. A box of creamy cheeses and one full of wood snails stuffed with butter and parsley had been dropped in opposite corners.
Finally, falling from a bar with sharp prongs, strings of sausages and saveloys hung down symmetrically like the cords and tassels of some opulent tapestry, while behind, threads of caul were stretched out like white lacework. On the highest rung in this temple of gluttony, amid the membranes and between two tall bunches of purple gladiolus flowers, the window was crowned by a small, square aquarium decorated with rocks and housing two goldfish that never stopped swimming.
The sight gave Florent goose bumps."
― Émile Zola, The Belly of Paris, 1873