“I was riding my bike through the forest… I tasted the leaf of a doug fir tree and thought, wow it tastes like citrus, why can’t we put that in a sausage?” – Chris LaVeque, El Salchichero Founder
My first encounter with El Salchichero was on a road trip from Los Angeles to San Francisco. We gravitated towards the sea to surf, in order to cure the slightly nauseating feeling akin to jet lag that the mind-numbingly arid landscape of the I-5 gave us. Though there were plenty of possible options for beaches, Santa Cruz was decided without any need to discuss; Santa Cruz meant a trip to El Salchichero, and that went unchallenged.
We procured some head cheese, bacon trimmings, jalapeno bacon, lardo butter, and pâté. As I scanned the display, I rediscovered a kind of greed that I had not felt since I went to a buffet for the first time. Upon arrival two hours later, we hung up wetsuits and carried our stuff to the house. The luggage was soon abandoned by the entrance when we all acknowledged that the real priority was to prepare and enjoy the El Salchichero treats that had sat on my lap for the latter half of the journey. We roasted thick cubes of bacon trimmings with brussel sprouts to make them crisp and add a slight caramel colour.
As someone who, as a late teen, internalized messages of the “dangers” of eating meat, let alone lard, there was a small part of me that made me apprehensive about trying the trimmings. Those thoughts melted away when I opened the oven to the sweet yet distinctly earthy aroma, filling my lungs to their maximum capacity. I cherished that moment, standing there with my eyes closed, my deep breathing yoga technique kicking in. We quickly garnished the salad with red nasturtium flowers, and arranged the table, trying to minimise the time to finally taste the bacon.
It tasted nothing like I could have imagined, yet everything that I expected it to be. Surprisingly tender, the juice bursted like blue ink dropped in a bowl of water. I don’t usually yelp with triumph at dinner, but this was the appropriate occasion.
Now the man behind this obscenely tasteful meat is Chris LaVeque, a swearing biker and self-confessed “hippie at heart.” He rides his mountain bike every morning for that stillness and solitude that makes his day. He doesn’t care about riding trails in record time, because while he’s roaming for loam he’s also stopping to pick and smell the herbs.
The olfactory experience of his bike trips are the source of inspiration in the kitchen, one recent innovation being a doug fir tip salami inspired by Christmas smells from the woods. It’s no wonder he views his charcuterie as a way to express identity, when lavender, yuzu, and shichimi togarashi, are some of the ingredients that have been put in sausages, lardo butter, you name it. He knows himself, and his passions. He is committed to them, digging deep with nothing but his own hands, and learning through trial and error.
It’s refreshing to hear Chris talk about his respect for the animals, when respect for their life is most often discussed around slaughter. He believes this mindfulness should extend to the manner it is handled and cut, to the way it gets prepared and consumed. It seems obvious, but upon hearing his words I realised that I don’t think about that much. The common image of charcuteries and butcheries are of white coats and big shiny knives, but the true ingredient that sets places like El Salchichero apart is the tenderness and passion with which they create food that “nourishes your soul.”
For more from Max Houtzager and Terasu, be sure to visit them over at terasulife.com and check out their Vimeo. Also, don’t forget to Like them on Facebook, as well as follow them on Instagram and Twitter.
