A delicious wave of salted, cured, fermented, or fat-preserved meat has been swelling across the country, from restaurants and home kitchens to blogs and books all dedicated to the craft of charcuterie. This is not a new trend, however, but rather a revival of an ancient way of preserving foods. In Charcuterie: The Craft of Salting, Smoking, and Curing (W.W. Norton, 2005), Michael Ruhlman explains that while the concept of salting or curing meats dates back much further, the term itself emerged in France in the fifteenth century, when all pork products sold had to be cooked first. As a result, shop owners transformed the uncooked pork into sausages, bacon, pâtés, and more.

Charcuterie never lost popularity in Europe, with shops all over France, Italy, Spain and elsewhere teaming with large assortments of preserved meats. In the United States, that appreciation got lost, as fewer and fewer cooks knew how to make charcuterie. But those times are past. The interest in locally produced foods, sustainable ingredients, and artisanal products made at home has generated a resurgence of love for all forms of charcuterie, found on restaurant menus, where they make a great appetizer, but also in home kitchens everywhere.

Ruhlman and Brian Polcyn’s Charcuterie has played a large role in allowing home cooks to make their own sausages, saucissons, porcetta, cured salmon, and terrines. Since its publication, charcuterie aficionados have gathered on online forums and blogs to discuss recipes and techniques and compare results, exchanging tips and sources along the way. Ruhlman said that he gets at least one email a day from a reader, with questions on how to dry cure, how to know if bacon is cured, or why a pâté turned out crumbly.

“The book continues to sell briskly, especially for one devoted to animal fat and salt and recipes than can take months,” he said. “So yes, more people seem to be doing it and a number of them because of the book, which to the best of my knowledge has sold in the 50,000 copies range.”

Ruhlman concurred that this interest is tied to the greater phenomenon tied to seeking better foods in general, as well as a desire on the consumers’ side to do what chefs do, which increasingly comprises charcuterie.

“Restaurateurs and chefs became more and more interested in sourcing products to individual farms,” said Robert del Grosso, the chef at Hendricks Farms and Dairy in Pennsylvania, where he handles boucherie and charcuterie. “They saw that farms had pigs, and wanted to do more with pigs than pork chops. So they are digging into the literature on charcuterie. It’s a perfectly predictable way of expanding their repertoire and making themselves and their menu more interesting.”

Del Grosso said that the people who visit him at the farm and ask questions about making salami, confit, or pancetta typically work in finance or technology. “I think that some of these people turn to making salami at home as a hobby that fills a need to work with their hands,” he added.
Jeff Price is one of those people. A broker of specialized real estate outside of Philadelphia, he started making his own beer about seven years ago, and has even tried making wine and cheese. In early 2008, he met del Grosso at Hendricks Farms and sampled his porcetta. The taste was unlike anything he had ever eaten, he said, and immediately decided to make his own. A friend who was also part of the visit started researching charcuterie, and quickly happened upon Ruhlman and Polcyn’s book. The two started using those recipes, with input provided by del Grosso when needed.

The main challenge of making charcuterie at home is to control the environment in which the meat will cure. Accuracy in temperature and humidity are crucial, to ensure that the meat does not spoil and that the end result is good. Those factors are hard to control in a basement, for example, and mold can grow on the meat. Most molds are not harmful, del Grosso explained, but are not pleasing aesthetically. Other strains of mold and some fungi are very dangerous should one consume them, however. To deal with those issues, many home charcutiers end up creating a more controlled environment.

“A lot of people who work at home end up making an aging box,” del Grosso said.  “They convert a refrigerator and put a small humidifier in it. Many people use a wine cooler. Some folks build a box of plywood, with a heater, humidifier, and thermostat.”

Daniel Rosati, a culinary educator who owns a cooking school in Italy and teaches a sausage-making workshop at the Institute of Culinary Education, says that he would recommend not making dry-cured sausages at home, and instead focus on fresh sausages, which can be frozen for preservation.

The “surprise” effect of charcuterie can also be a challenge. James Briscione, former chef de cuisine at Frank Stitt’s Highlands Bar and Grill and chef-instructor at the Institute of Culinary Education, where he teaches a terrine-making workshop, equals it to baking, where you have no real control over the process once it is set in motion.

“You never really know what you are going to get with the final product,” he said. “Once you’ve hung anything, put the terrine in the oven, you can’t taste anything along the way and correct it. In cooking, nothing is ever truly lost. But you only get one shot here.”

While these elements can keep cooks away from charcuterie, the satisfaction of making a superior product, particularly in areas where those might not be widely available, supercedes the complications.

“There is something very gratifying about going to your cellar and seeing all this stuff hanging up,” del Grosso said. “It’s a good way to impress your friends and neighbors, to show them your closet full of bacon. It’s one-up-manship. You see evidence of that a lot in online foodie community.”

Price said that he likes charcuterie because he enjoys producing something great. It can be frustrating to have to wait several weeks, if not months, for a product to be ready and have it not turn out well, but learning from his mistakes is part of the process, and gets him closer to making something that is not only tasty, but exceptional.

“I enjoy the fact that a lot of the things I am aging is on par with the stuff I can get locally at specialty stores,” he adds. “My Tuscan salami is as good, if not better, as anything I’ve ever had. It doesn’t take a whole lot of special skills and equipment to create something that is tasty.”

—Anne E. McBride

Duck Prosciutto
From Michael Ruhlman and Brian Polcyn’s Charcuterie: The Craft of Salting, Smoking, and Curing (W.W. Norton, 2005)

About 2 cups/450 grams kosher salt, or as needed
1 whole boneless Pekin (Long Island) duck breast, about 1 pound/450 grams, skin on, split
½ teaspoon/1.5 grams freshly ground white pepper
Cheesecloth

1. Put 1 cup/225 grams of the salt in a nonreactive baking pan or dish that will just hold the duck breast without touching and nestle the duck breast skin side up on top of the salt (the snugger the fit, the less salt you’ll need to use, but be sure that the pieces don’t touch each other). Pour enough additional salt over the duck breasts so that the pieces are completely covered. Cover with plastic wrap and refrigerate for 24 hours.

2. Remove the duck from the salt, rinse thoroughly, and pat completely dry with paper towels. The flesh should feel dense, and its color will have deepened. Dust the breasts on both sides with the white pepper.

3. Wrap each breast in a layer of cheesecloth and tie with string. Hang the duck breasts for about 7 days in a cool, humid place (about 50 to 60 degrees F./8 to 15 degrees C. is optimal). The flesh should be stiff but not hard throughout; the color will be a deep rich red. If the breasts still feel squishy (raw) in the center, hang for a day or two longer as needed.

4. Remove the cheesecloth, wrap the duck in plastic wrap, and refrigerate until ready to use. The duck will keep refrigerated for several weeks or more.