“While not wishing in any way to belittle the culinary talents so lavishly bestowed by Providence upon the French, and so brilliantly cultivated by them, it should be observed that both housewife and restaurateur frequently lean heavily upon their local charcutiers…”—Elizabeth David, French Provincial Cooking
Ah, good old Liz. No doubt she ruffled a few feathers when she penned this little gem, but it’s no less true for that. I wonder how she would respond if she and I could sit down together today, and I was to tell her that I think the charcuterie is even better this side of the Pyrenees. I like to think she’d agree. Three times I visited France this summer, three times I came home more convinced than ever that if anyone knows a good sausage, it’s the Catalans.
The Spanish may have jamón all wrapped up, and I defy anyone to find a pork product superior to the pata negra de bellota of Huelva or Extremadura, but the variety of flavor, richness and succulence of Catalan embotits take some beating. At the time when our social lives exist more than ever for the pleasures of the table, what could be easier, or less stressful, than a board laden with a selection of local sausages, a wheel of cheese, some good olive oil, tomatoes and a loaf of crusty bread.
Mercat del Ninot. photo by Mònica Moreno courtesy of Ajuntament de Barcelona (CC BY-NC-ND 4.0).
In Catalunya, you’ll find neatly tiled xarcuteries (cold cuts shops) throughout the cities, and scattered throughout the towns and villages of the region. Local markets have entire aisles dedicated to them where the butcher is as much the gourmand as a Michelin-starred chef. Vic is a market town about an hour north of Barcelona, nestled in front of the foothills of the Pyrenees. It’s also the spiritual home of Catalan charcuterie, which all aficionados, at some point or other in their lives, must gravitate towards. At the weekly Saturday market, you must now make the depressing trudge through forests of nylon knickers and plastic handbags to find the tiny corner still reserved for farmers selling fruit and vegetables, eggs and cheeses, mountain honey and baskets of wild mushrooms in season and, if you’re very lucky, a plump, prime sausage from the previous season’s matança (pig killing festival).
In an official capacity the matança is no longer considered acceptable behavior under EU health-and-safety guidelines. In reality, many farmers still enjoy the feast of feasts for their own pleasure and nourishment in the year to come. In many villages it has become far more formalized. A qualified butcher is usually employed to do the killing on behalf of everyone who has a pig during the brief season that lasts from mid-December to February. Once the organs have been cleaned, the buckets of blood neatly arranged and the intestines washed ready for stuffing, samples of the flesh and innards are rushed off to the local vet to test for disease. All being well, the sausage-making rites then begin, and though most of what makes it to the kind of elegant, old-world, postcard perfect delis that writers wax lyrical about in food articles are commercially made, the process is much the same.
Catalunya boasts 17 different varieties of embotit (the Balearics, Païs Valencià and Roussillon add still more), and some 500 or so producers. Like most Spanish dishes, there are as many versions of each as there are people who make them. The only way to know what you like best is to gather your friends around you, and like the traditional matança meal (where the fresh liver, chops and lashings of hearty country wine are consumed) let the feasting begin.
Catalan Cold Cuts
All of the sausages on our list (except the very last one!) are cooked or cured and eaten as cold cuts and do not need additional cooking. It can be confusing because you can find a number of raw sausages bearing similar—if not identical—names in the fresh meat section of any grocery store. One glance should tell you if the sausages you're looking at are raw (crues) or cooked (cuites), and, if you're still not sure, don't be afraid to ask someone.
Botifarra d'ou, photo by Mercat Central de Tarragona.
Cooked Embotits
Botifarra blanca
In its simplest form botifarra blanca is a coarse pork sausage made primarily with lean meat and only a small amount of fat lightly seasoned with just salt and pepper, letting the flavor of the meat speak for itself. The meat is first boiled, then seasoned and stuffed in the casing—usually the intestine. Once the casings are stuffed, the sausages are cooked again, by slowly poaching them in hot water. This process of cooking the sausage twice renders most of the fat and makes this a relatively low-fat and tender sausage. Gourmet variations include sausages that are mixed with truffles, apples, mushrooms, calçots and even chocolate. Botifarra d’ou contains more or less the same ingredients but with the addition of egg, giving it a slightly yellow color.
Botifarra negra
Not to be confused with morcilla, Catalan blood sausage uses cooked lean pork and fat which is minced and then mixed with fresh pig's blood and the most basic of seasonings: salt and plenty of freshly milled black pepper. Once stuffed in casings it is prepared as a cold cut in the same way as the botifarra blanca.
Botifarra Catalana
Larger in diameter than botifarra blanca, botifarra catalana is made with lean meat from the thighs and shoulders of young or castrated pigs. The meat is cut into small cubes, seasoned and left to rest for two days to a week in a cold room before it is cooked, seasoned again, stuffed in casings and poached. Unlike the botifarra blanca, much of the meat in this sausage is left in large chunks, which gives it a coarser texture. It is commonly found flavored with truffles and vi ranci (a traditional sweet wine similar to sherry).
Bull negre, also called bisbe negre, photo by Carnisseria Colom Vila.
Bull, Bisbe or Peltruc
Typical of Girona, the humble bull is know by many names, and it is a true example of nose-to-tail eating. Everything goes into this one from the snout, cheeks, jowls and face to the tongue and internal organs, blood and tripe; everything, in fact, except the prime cuts. Like botifarra, the meat and offal are first cooked, then mixed with seasoning and finally stuffed in casing and cooked again. For bull, the cec (caecum)—also referred to colloquially as the bisbe, hence the name—is used for the casing. This is a widened area of the intestine a bit like a pouch of about 24 cm that connects the small and large intestines. The most commonly found variety of bull is the simple bull blanc, which is a white sausage made with a medium mince of ingredients and is mild in flavor. Bull negre, of course, incorporates fresh blood. More elaborate versions add any number of ingredients to the mix, for example bull de fetge includes liver, garlic, egg and parsley, or bull de llangue which incorporates large chunks of tongue. Any trip to Girona deserves a stop in a local xarcuteria where you'll discover that there many interesting varieties to choose from.
Girella from Lleida, photo by Xolís d'Adons.
Girella or Chireta
Known as chireta in Aragón, girella is typical of Pallars and Alt Ribagorça. This sausage from Lleida is unusual in that it’s made of lamb (as opposed to pork) and uses the lungs, heart, head, neck and any other scraps, which are minced, mixed into a base of rice and seasoned with garlic, parsley, salt and pepper. It’s then stuffed into the stomach of the same animal, sewn closed and then slowly poached. In Lleida it is traditionally sliced, battered with egg and flour, fried and eaten accompanied by a slice of bread.
Fuet sausage from Vic.
Dry Cured Embotits
Fuet
Arguably the region’s most popular cured sausage, the word means "whip," and it’s so-called because of its long, thin shape measuring about 40 centimeters long and four centimeters in diameter. It’s made of about 60 percent lean meat to 40 percent finely minced fat and is dry cured. It’s also known by other names such as secallona (typically very thin and very dry), espetec and somalla depending on where it comes from. Though it can often be coated with black pepper, herbs, garlic, dried red peppers or dried onion, it is most commonly found with a white, almost powdery coating. This is the "white flora"—or mold—that naturally coats it through the drying process. As the moisture leaves the sausage, the exterior becomes damp, causing mold to grow. To control the type of mold that develops, starter cultures using safe, edible molds are introduced to prevent dangerous molds from growing. It is perfectly safe to eat, but for those who don't like it, it can be peeled off.
Llonganiza from Vic.
Llonganissa de Vic
Probably the most commercial of all the sausages, it’s no less addictive for that on account of its mild taste and smooth texture. Made of about 85 percent lean flesh, 15 percent fat and a good dose of salt and pepper, few Catalan homes are ever without one. Like fuet, it is dry cured for two to three months, but due to its larger size—ranging from 50 to 70 centimeters long and five to 10 centimeters in diameter—it is a softer, more tender sausage. Due to the drying process, llonganiza also has a white flora coating the exterior.
Xolís from Lleida. Photo by Xolís d'Adons.
Xolís
From the Lleida Pyrenees, this sausage is much like fuet, but a good bit dryer. Traditionally made in the winter months of December, January and February, it is made from minced lean pork seasoned with salt and pepper, stuffed in casings and left to rest for 48 hours. Then it is hung outdoors for 15 days to dry cure at an altitude of approximately 1,300 meters. Next, the sausage is placed on a table and pressed between cotton cloths for 48 to 72 hours. The pressing serves to expel any air and further reduces its moisture. It is then hung again to cure for a minimum of two months, when it will finally be ready to eat.
The Sweetest Sausage?
Botifarra dolça
While not a cold cut, but rather a raw sausage that needs to be cooked before eating, we felt this sausage was worth adding to the list because it is just so unusual. This specialty of Girona is made with lean pork meat mixed with sugar instead of salt, seasoned with lemon juice and often spices like cinnamon and nutmeg are added. Even more unusually, it is traditionally served at the end of a meal, almost like a dessert, and in certain bars like Quimet y Quimet in Barcelona, regular customers will often be handed one, wrapped up in pretty paper, like candy, when they leave.