How the Sausage Gets Made – Becoming a Butcher

To be honest, I was doing fine until he brought out the pig bladders.  And I had been mentally prepping for my time at the butchers for a while now.  I had even taken classes in San Francisco at the family-owned butchery, 4505 Meats.  So, when he told me that we were making “Rotwurst” (a.k.a “Blutwurst” – blood sausage), I knew that we were going to be seeing a whole lot of blood.  But I was ready; I knew it was coming.  It is was after we filled the glass jars and moved onto the variant that I had to step back and admit that this was a little gross.

I had been introduced to the butcher through a friend of a friend.  I had originally planned on joining him in mid-April, but schedules got filled and I was able to postpone the start day to mid-May.  His shop is in Mechterstädt, which is not too far away from where I am currently living, but extremely hard to get to with public transportation as the busses from Tambach-Dietharz only run every other hour.  So, to simplify things, I booked an Airbnb in Erfurt for the week – needing only to buy a week’s train pass (~$50).

First, the story of the Airbnb

Once I booked my stay, the host wanted to make sure I knew that she would be around so I should feel free to come early.  After many rounds of messages, I said I’d be there around noon.  I arrived on Monday at 11:45 AM and called her to let her know I arrived; she let me know that I was early… and she needed five minutes or so.  I waited outside when the front door of the apartment building opened and a woman stood there in the door way.  I introduced myself, and she said that she did not care – she had no idea who I was.  Okay, so wrong person.  This woman then started telling me all the gossip about the building and its occupants – there was a lot of words, slang I assume, that I did not understand.

A couple minutes later, a car comes bombing down the road and parks.  Out jumps my host and begins yelling at this lady, exchanging many “Du blöde Kuh” (you stupid cow) and “Halt die Fresse” (shut your yapper).  With these awkward beginnings, I was shown to my room, which was obviously lived in by someone else – clothes hanging in different locations and even a change bowl in plain sight.  The bathroom was overflowing with half-used skincare and hair products.  Most uncomfortable.

Halfway through my stay, the host asked why I was not using the kitchen.  The true answer was that I looked at the silverware and plates, and they looked like they were molding; but I said that I was not much of a cook.  To this, she enthusiastically invited me to eat dinner with her – she was going to make spaghetti and sauce.  Just smile and say thanks.  As the time for dinner approached, my gut told me to run, so I made my excuses and went to find dinner in the city.  Her review of me stated that we did not have much contact.  So, success.

Working with tasty pig parts

Peter used to work as a chef at a small inn/bed and breakfast.  As is common in fall and winter, he used to host a “Schlachtfest” where he made all sorts of fine meats for attendees.  Peter then started to get requests and orders for his sausages outside of these events.  Five years ago, he stopped his work as a chef and opened up his own butchers shop; he’s been going strong ever since.  He gets a little help from his retired parents, but also has two ladies that come in to help on heavy days.  Similar to my first weeks at the bakery, I joined in the fun only to reduce efficiency and answer questions about how things compare in the US.  Honestly, the only skill I brought with me was how to use a knife without cutting myself.

Peter runs a small, but predictable “sausage factory” (as Sarah kept referring to it as).  Mondays are closed; Tuesdays are knackwurst; Wednesdays are gehacktes, rotwurst, leberwurst, and sülze;  and Thursdays are a bit more gehacktes and bratwurst.  The sales are made Thursday through Saturday.  Any special orders are needed a week in advance and are slotted into the week where possible.  His parents drive a Jaguar and he a Land Rover, so he must be doing something right.

Starting my time there working with the family making knackwurst was a great introduction to ideas such as meat temperatures and uses of specialized salt to keep the meat red for visual appeal.  I was introduced to the smoker and the differences between the 2-day-old knackwurst (smooth and moist) and the 2-week-old knackwurst (tough but flavorful).  We even discussed the importance of meat quality; the pork used on Tuesdays comes from a pigs-live-happy farm where they are slaughtered immediately prior to use.  In fact, we were producing the sausage a couple hours after slaughter; the meat was still warm…

It was Day 2 that became a whirlwind of activity.  Two other ladies joined the fun to take part in cutting up the meat into meat-grinder-sized portions.  The day passed with portioning out the cuts so that the meat-to-fat ratio was right for each sausage, and then adding all the salt, pepper, and other spices needed to flavor the final product.

Most of these products were packed into glass jars, which would then be boiled for two hours and cooled slowly overnight.  This would cook the meat, congeal the fat, and produce a product that will be shelf-stable for well over a year.  All was going well, even with the addition of the pig’s blood into the blood sausage (no, that is not cranberry sauce).

Half of the blood sausage was put into glass jars; the other half was destined for natural casing.  I was tasked with cutting up some tongue, which was then mixed in the loose meat.  Peter then took out some pig bladders, which do look like empty balloons.  We then filled them with the blood sausage and created, as they appeared to me, chunky water balloons.  They, in all honesty, stretched to the size of a water balloon and then were tied off into a package a bit bigger than a softball.  No pictures were taken as I was busy contemplating what I was seeing and wondering who would buy such a thing…

The second week ran similar to the first with the exception that I was able to ride along to the pigs-live-happy farm to see where that pork came from.  Sorry if the following video makes you squeamish – I found the processing interesting.  I also was introduced to some other local folks, including another butcher in a neighboring town – he is apparently interested in my free labor on Mondays!  So, my dance cards is filling up quite nicely with Butcher #2 on Mondays, Butcher #1 on Tuesdays through Thursdays, and Bakery on Saturdays.  It feels like there is hope that life will start to settle down soon; at least, I hope it will.