-Otto von Bismarck
Although Chillán is, in most ways, a pretty unassuming agricultural town, it is famous all over Chile for its longanizas, spicy sausages made of pork and/or beef. No matter where we have traveled in Chile this year, when people learn that we are living in Chillán they almost always mention the longanizas first (and the extreme weather second). We have enjoyed eating longanizas in soups and hot off the grill with fresh rolls, known as choripán (chorizo with bread). Longanizas really are fantastic and worthy of their fame.
There are many local brands, and most residents of Chillán have definite preferences about which brand is best. We have sampled many of them, and tried to keep track of which ones we like best, but in the end we liked them all and tended to make our buying decision based on which butcher we felt most connected to. This brings me to the guys in stall 67 in the main meat market, from the left to right in this picture, Gabriel, Alvaro, and Luis. They have always been especially friendly and are great salesmen, often handing out free samples, which got me hooked on their brand in the first place.
Since I love to cook (and eat) I have been trying to learn to cook many of the local specialties here in Chile: cazuela, pastel de choclo, empanadas, and porotos. Disregarding the advice of Bismarck, I have also had the desire for quite awhile to know how longanizas are made. Last week I went to the guys in stall 67 and told them that I wanted to watch them make longanizas and write about it on the web. They were receptive, and took me over to stall 61 to meet their jefe, don Marcelo. I repeated the whole pitch to him and he agreed that he could help me out. To the left in the picture of don Marcelo here you can see the team picture of the local soccer team, the Ñublense Diablos Rojos. One of the other guys working in stall 61 told me that there is a norteamericano playing for the team. Luckily, Catherine and I had been to a game a couple of weeks ago and I had seen him play so I knew just who he was talking about. Sports and food, the connections were there. We made a date for the next Tuesday.I returned on Tuesday and talked to don Marcelo. He directed me to the actual factory, in another part of town about 10 minutes by foot from the meat market. He gave me the address and said he would call ahead so that they would be expecting me. Of course, street signs are pretty scarce once you move away from the center part of town, but after asking directions about five times I eventually found the factory, a nondescript building that at first I thought was deserted.
I rang the bell and was greeted by Manuel and his crew of three. They were busy cutting and grinding meat, adding spices and mixing a huge batch (nearly 600 pounds) of longaniza stuffing as I arrived. They were also cooking up a batch of head cheese, a bubbling cauldron of pig heads and tongues, seen here being tended by Manuel. I was given a quick tour, shown the freezer where the meat is kept before it is made into longanizas. Manuel also showed me the spice room and the recipe of spices per 100 kg of longaniza that is taped to the wall, which I shall not publish on the web to protect their secret.
After about 15 minutes of mixing, the crew unloaded the longaniza mixture and brought it over to the machine where it would be extruded into the pig intestine casings. I was impressed by the professionalism of the crew. While Manuel and Hugo were unloading, Salgado and Ivan were cleaning the table and the extrusion machine. They loaded the extruder in batches and manned their stations along the side of the long stainless steel table.Below you can see a video of how the longanizas are made. The extruder, manned by Salgado, spits a continuous tube of filled casing onto the table where Hugo and Manuel and Ivan tie and twist the divisions for the individual longanizas. The whole process is remarkably fast and fluid. As the longanizas are twisted off they are hung on bamboo poles in preparation for the smoking step.
As each bamboo pole fills up with fresh longanizas, they are taken to the smoking room and hung from the rafters. Once the whole batch is racked this way, a slow smoky fire will be started and the longanizas left for several hours, maybe even overnight. Longanizas prepared this way are known as "ahumadas". Although they still seem only partially cooked after the smoking, Manuel let me know that they could be eaten at this point, and cut off a chunk of a freshly smoked longaniza and provided a hunk of bread so that I could try it right there and then. Below you can see the finished product, ready to go off to market.
Finally, getting back to the Bismarck quotation that started this entry, I found that watching longanizas be made did not in any way diminish my appreciation of them. In fact, I found the process to be reassuring. I saw the list of ingredients taped to the wall and watched a small team work together to make longanizas that contain just exactly what the label says they contain. If only lawmaking were this transparent and honest.
(Click in the label to zoom in. What you see is what you get)
