Seafood Sausages

Seafood sausages have been on my mind for a long time.  I talked about them way back in a 2017 post when I made Oyster Chicharrones.  Cooking seafood at home is still something I feel is pretty foreign to many Americans.  Sure, salmon and crab cakes make the occasional appearance, but we seem to be more comfortable with pot roasts and spaghetti bolognese rather than stuffed squid or salt crusted whole fish.  There has been incredible progress in chefs making traditional and identifiable dishes with a fishy twist.  Josh Niland of Fish Butchery is definitely most notable in his creations of swordfish belly bacon, blue eye trevalla cheeseburgers, and tuna meatball subs.  Still, I believe there's a shameful underrepresentation of seafood on American dining tables and clever ways out there to fix that. 

Grinding beef for hot dogs

I've always wanted a proper meat grinder and sausage stuffer, and thanks to my siblings, I finally got one for my birthday.  I'll be honest, the catalyst that finally made it happen was wanting to create my own homemade kid's cuisine like hot dogs and chicken McNuggets.  I'm about to be a pappy, and I want that kid to enjoy the classics without my guilt of just boiling an Oscar Mayer wiener and tossing it in a bun.  Ambitious and idealistic, absolutely.  That kid will have his fair share of Kraft Mac and Cheese and Tombstone pizzas, no doubt.  I'm by no means fully committing to an organic only, zero gluten, sugar free, did-the-chicken-have-friends type diet for my kid.  While you have to be pragmatic, nobody feels good about heating up some Gorton's fish sticks and feeding them to their children.  If I can mix in the occasional house cured pepperoni or homemade turkey lunch meat, I'll consider that a win.  

Anyway, with a new meat grinder on hand and the desire for seafood whimsy in heart, seafood sausages naturally came next.  Sausages are one of the most classic, iconic, and identifiable American foods.  It's debatable on where they originate, so I won't open that whole cultural appropriation can of worms.  Either way, everybody loves a good sausage.  And get your minds out of the gutter.  This is a PG kid-friendly blog, now.  Just kidding.  However, from ball park franks to spicy Italian on pizza, everyone enjoys eating sausage.  What better way to bring seafood and identifiable comfort food together than in a sausage?  So, with knives sharpened and hog casings soaked, let the grind begin.    

Smoked Trout Hot Dogs

Lake Michigan Trout and Salmon

I was fortunate enough to have a vacation this summer to visit my girlfriend's family in Wisconsin.  If anywhere in the states is sausage country, it's definitely the Midwest.  Funny thing too is that everything is called a "brat" and not a sausage.  Spicy Italian brats, breakfast brats, lamb merguez brats.  I figured I'd even see bratwurst brats, but it wasn't that bad.  Just classic brats.  More importantly, we had the opportunity to go fishing on Lake Michigan.  It was a pretty amazing experience.  Milwaukee felt just like a coastal city as we shoved off the pier, and even more so while we filleted our twelve salmon and lake trout as we came back into port.  We enjoyed some fresh on the grill that evening, though our haul was way too large for our modest party of six.  Luckily, a neighbor was kind enough to smoke the rest, allowing us to enjoy the delectable lake treats back in the Bay Area.

With now a little over three pounds of smoked lake trout in my fridge, I knew I was going to make smoked trout hot dogs.  The concept has always just seemed right to me.  Snappy casing, paprika and garlic forward beef, and that briny, smoky trout flavor underneath it all.  Just makes sense.  As it was my first attempt at homemade hot dogs, I needed a little guidance, though.  Ryan Farr, a Bay Area sausage legend of 4505 Meats, had a comprehensive recipe in his book I used as my base. 

Beef Mock Tender from the Chuck, Beef Fat Back, Smoked Lake Trout, Lamb Casings and a
Mixture of Cure #1, Kosher Salt, Paprika, Onion Powder, Garlic Powder, and Black Pepper

I started off with grinding the beef and fat back.  Rule one of sausage making is everything must be ice cold, otherwise the fat will render and the meat will smear, leaving you with a nasty meat paste rather than a nice fine grind.  Bad bacteria also love room temperature meat, so, safety first.  After thrice through the grinder, I was ready to add the spices and emulsify the sausage, slowly pouring in ice cold water as it blended in the food processor.  The water helps the emulsification in making it smooth and keeping it cold, preventing it from breaking, just like a mayonnaise can.  Once all this was completed, I quick fried a tablespoon of the mixture for flavor and seasoning.  Tasting just like Coney Island's finest, I now had a smooth hot dog farce ready for casing and smoking.  I lightly folded in the smoked trout in hopes of retaining some of the fish's texture and transferred it back to the grinder for stuffing.  A quick few pumps into the lamb casings and I had trout hot dogs ready for the smoker.  Yes, I was going to really nail home that smoked flavor (and the recipe called for smoking the hot dogs, so I figured I should stick to the plan).  

 

A seemingly endless hour later, I had twelve beautifully smoky lake trout hot dogs. The color was a bit disconcerting at first as they were a pale gray right after stuffing, but the smoking process really brought out that classic red hot hue.  Paprika, beef and cure #1 do the trick, apparently.  Flavor and texture were spot on for a classic hot dog.  Unfortunately, the delicate and fragile fish didn't hold up through the stuffing process and melded into the beef farce.  One of the disadvantages of an electric vs. hand pump sausage stuffer.  However, they had that perfect snappy casing and a flush, meaty interior.  Taste was just like a Nathan's 100% all beef frank with a savory seafood finish.  Full garlic and paprika up front, layered with smoky, salty lake trout on the back.  Moisture was the only slight issue.  They were a little drier than I'd hoped.  But hey, most people drown their dogs in condiments anyway, so no real problem.  Dressed up with prepared horseradish, tomatoes, chives, radish, and red onion, they'd be a welcomed twist to any classic 'murican BBQ.  These are most certainly a make again and a great addition to my slowly growing sausage arsenal. 

Low Country Boil Sausages

 

I immediately knew I wanted to do one of those gimmicky meal-in-a-sausage versions of something.  You know, those cheeseburger, Thai chicken curry, or chicken parmesan sausages you often see.  Got me thinking of what I could do for seafood, and a low country boil or frogmore stew quickly came to mind.  Heaps of crawfish, mussels, peel'n'eat shrimp, crab, spicy andouille sausage, potatoes and corn all steamed or boiled in tons of Cajun or Old Bay seasoning.  They're kind of a lot of work to put together.  Well, not terrible, but you know you're not throwing together a crawfish boil at home on a casual Tuesday evening.  What if that could all be brought together in a sausage for convenient consumption?  I also knew I needed to make something that my girlfriend, who pretends to like seafood while in reality does not, might actually eat.  She likes some shellfish, at least, so this could work.  A sausage like this would require some sort of base.  I suppose I could have made an emulsification out of crawfish tails and shrimp.  However, I wanted a hearty, rustic and coarse ground sausage.  A neutral base was needed, and nothing is more neutral than good old "tastes like chicken."  Seemed like a good carrier for the Old Bay and wouldn't overpower the other components.

Turkey Legs, Crawfish Tails, Andouille Sausage, Corn,
Parsley, and Old Bay Seasoning

As you may have noticed from the picture, I got two whole turkey legs rather than a bunch of chicken thighs.  Seemed a little more fun to me, plus my Local Butcher in Berkeley didn't have enough chicken thighs on hand.  Poultry is poultry, right?  There's also something appealing about single bird, pig, cow or whatever sausage.  It feels good to go from whole muscles to end product.  Takes away the whole "lips and assholes" element of sausage making, I think. 

I started out by deboning and coarsely grinding the turkey legs with skin on.  Sausage requires fat, and with turkey meat being so lean, the skin was the best source for this.  Also, I'd forgotten what a pain in the ass butt (sorry, no profanity in front of the kid) removing the tendons from the drumsticks was.  Seriously though, when raw, it's like deboning a fish on steroids.  With a solid base ground up, I started mixing in the crawfish tails, cubed andouille, parsley, corn and ample amounts of Old Bay seasoning.  I felt like quite the clever one using frozen corn, too, knowing it would keep the mixture ice cold as I pumped the casings.  F*ckin' smart!  Visually, they came out great.  A slight Old Bay colored tinge speckled with bright orange and white crawfish tails, verdantly green parsley, and eye-popping yellow corn.  If I ran a meat and seafood counter, these would be at the front of the case. 

 

     How'd they taste though?  Well, I can say turkey was a stupid idea.  I should have known.  For those of you who immediately thought "turkey's not going to work," you were right.  As soon as I started mixing the ingredients together and smelling them, I knew it was going to be too strongly turkey flavored.  A quick pre-stuffing fry of the mixture for taste confirmed.  Turkey meat, let alone the much gamier turkey leg meat, was going to be too fowl (dad jokes!) to let the other flavors come through.  I'd already crossed the Rubicon, though, once everything was mixed, so I had to forge on.  The Old Bay was pleasantly prominent, and there were nice textural bites of crawfish, corn, and andouille here and there, but it was primarily a seafood seasoned turkey sausage.  Hey, it would be disingenuous not to share my failures.  They did taste pretty good, just not what I was going for.  Perhaps a rebranding would be in order.  Old Bay Bird Brats or something?  I did see a recipe for a potato sausage in one of my sausage making books, so that will be base in my attempt at a Low Country Boil Sausage 2.0.  I'll keep y'all updated.

Seafood Boudin Blanc

Fish Sausage, Celeriac Puree, Peas, and
Onion Sauce in Whole Fish Butchery

Both my seafood sausages admittedly hadn't exactly been seafood so far.  Sure, they were seafood inspired, flavored, and partly comprised, but they were mainly based in meat.  It made sense.  When it comes to sausages, meat is more stable, easier to work with, less perishable, has a higher fat content and is a convenient way to use up scrap and discard.  Seafood is missing quite a few of those properties.  However, I knew I wanted to do at least one entirely seafood sausage.  A quick Google showed there are a few versions out there, primarily shrimp mousselline formed into a sausage shape.  I wanted a fish base, though, so my inspiration came from the aforementioned Josh Niland and his book's aquatic spin on the classic bangers and mash.  I also love the classic French boudin blanc sausage, and imagined the emulsified texture and flavor could translate well into a seafood sausage.

The entire world of boudins and puddings is quite the rabbit hole, or rather a veal, pork, and chicken hole.  There are countless versions of white, fine textured sausages with different meats throughout the world with very strict do's and don'ts. Creole boudin must have rice, Irish and Scottish white puddings use oats, and in France, they must have milk or cream.  The French also have a contentious debate on whether or not to include fillers or binders such as bread crumbs or eggs.  Rethel, in Northern France, even has a legal protection defining what a Boudin Blanc de Rethel must be.  A lot to consider and respect, but I just wanted to make a pure seafood boudin blanc, not become a culinary criminal.

Bay Scallops, California Halibut, Salmon Bellies, Shallots, Garlic,
White Pepper, Marjoram, Sage, Nutmeg and Hog Casings

  I'll admit, the only area of expertise I have with boudin blancs is knowing that I love them.  As I said, there's a whole lot to consider and centuries of debate as to what defines them.  With my rudimentary research, the main ingredients seemed to be sage, marjoram and cream or milk.  Other additions vary from mushrooms and truffles to raisins and apples.  I decided to stick with sage, marjoram, and cream, adding in white pepper, nutmeg, and some shallots and garlic sautéed in butter.  As sausages need fat, and this was a seafood only sausage, the best source for this was salmon bellies from Tokyo Fish Market in Berkeley.  Bay scallops' texture and consistency would help fortify the farce and round out the flavor, so I added them in as well.  Both went into the food processor and cream was slowly added.  With a well set salmon belly and scallop mousse, I folded in cubed Californian halibut filet with the herbs and spices.  It all came together well, hopefully with some of the firm texture of the halibut remaining once pumped into the casings.  Boudin blancs, much like hot dogs, are fully cooked before reheating for serving.  I decided on steaming them, shocking them in ice water to stop the cooking process, then browning up in a cast iron.  

The end result, absolutely wonderful, I don't mind saying.  They turned out exactly as I'd hope.  A nice, smooth, fine textured seafood sausage from the cream emulsification with the firmer cubes of halibut peppered in.  The contrast was great.  Flavor wise, they were also spot on.  Very garlic and shallot forward with a savory fragrance from the sage, marjoram, and nutmeg, backed up with a slight kick from the white pepper.  The hog casings browned up well in the cast iron and they came out exactly like a classic boudin blanc, just with a seafood spin.  A slight issue, similar to the smoked trout hot dogs, they were little drier than I'd have liked.  I'm not sure if this was from steaming them a bit too long, or needing to up the salmon bellies for more fat.  I'll have to play with that a little in future, but a buttery sauce would easily combat that on this version.  In terms of how to serve, I can't think of anything better than over a bed of mashed potatoes with an onion gravy.  Perhaps some citrus braised leeks or lemon-thyme roasted vegetables on the side would be a pleasant addition as well.  Incorporating some sort of acid, especially of the citrus variety, always goes well with seafood.    

All in all, my seafood sausage experiments went just as I'd hoped.  A few successes, a few failures, and invaluable experience and learning opportunities on where to improve.  And the possibilities are endless.  So many things could be next.  Octopus pepperoni, smoked black cod bratwurst, salmon mortadella.  Hopefully my kid won't be too picky of an eater, but this will certainly be a cheeky way to mix some omega-3's into his diet.  Wishing you all the best and hope you get a chance soon to try some fun and whimsical culinary experiments too.

Cheers,

The SF Oyster Nerd