The Smokehouse

   

                          Murals throughout the Smokehouse neighborhood

I drive through Roxbury at least once a month on my way to visit my mother in Providence, but I’m always in too much of a rush to stop and poke around, and with each passing barbecue joint or bodega with a stencil of green platanos in the window I promise myself next time.

Next time came this past December, when the Guerilla Grilling team made its first urban expedition, to the Smokehouse (otherwise known as the Boston Sausage Company), just off Blue Hill Avenue. Located in a neighborhood of triple-deckers, auto body repair shops and the occasional boarded storefront it seemed a world away from our usual destinations off in the country or somewhere near the ocean.

 

   
          This sign wasn't on the main street, we did a few Uturns before finding it

 

More than a foot of snow had been predicted for the weekend and I was greeted in the parking lot by Trey Goodwin, the Smokehouse manager, and my GG crew who were clutching coffee cups, stomping their feet, and eying the gray canopy of clouds overhead. It was 9:30 and Nuno was already fast at work unloading his truck and setting up the grills.

As we climbed the stairs to the loading dock a familiar-looking white haired gentleman was stacking boxes. I thanked him for allowing us to invade the Smokehouse and introduced myself. This was Victor Nosiglia, who with his son Dave had started the business. I first met him over 20 years ago when he delivered sausage at Hamersley’s Bistro. His eyes lit up with recognition and he said, “Oh yes…of course my dear. It’s been many years.” Gordon and I would start our night with a couple of grilled slices of Smokehouse andouille sausage dipped in Chris Schlesinger’s Inner Beauty Hot Sauce. We were younger and heartier then!

                             
   

                                    Victor Nosiglia and Trey Goodwin

Trey gave us an introductory lecture about USDA safety standards. Sanitation is a big deal at the Smokehouse. We donned shower capped-shaped headgear and Trey pointed out the foot-level nozzles at the threshold of every room. The nozzles spray sanitizer at brief intervals, disinfecting everyone’s shoes. At least we wouldn’t need to wear booties. A few of us shivered. Processing meat requires a chilly environment—below 50 degrees in the working room and below 40 degrees in the packaging room. We kept our coats.

 

  

                                     USDA approved hairnets

The Smokehouse is inspected every day. Hours of operation are restricted by law and employees are required to wait until seven a.m. before so much as picking up a knife. This enables inspectors to insure that working areas are cleaned and sanitized every day. If employees were to start cutting at 6:50 and the inspector came at 6:59, they would have to throw everything away, then scrub and sanitize all over before resuming work.

A standardized weekly schedule with different meats handled on different days is an additional guard against cross-contamination:

Monday: pork
Tuesday: fresh poultry
Wednesday: Morning--cooked and smoked pork sausage
                   Afternoon--fresh sausage
Thursday: packing and shipping
Friday: cooking and cutting big muscle stuff--hams
Saturday and Sunday: cooking and smoking of bigger stuff: hams and turkeys

 

        

                                              Christmas Ham!

It was Friday, and we were there to see large hams prepared for the Christmas season. In the month of December the Smokehouse sells four-hundred hams a week in addition to their other products. From their origins on the Cape a couple of decades ago to their current operation in Roxbury the Smokehouse output has grown from five or six hundred pounds to seven or eight tons of sausages and smoked meat a week.

 

               

                            Sabba                                        Juan Carlos

The processing room was a study in well-lit, gleaming stainless steel surfaces. One table held a mound of hams, but everything still looked spotless. Trey introduced us to the two cutters, Juan Carlos and Sabba, tough strong-looking men, practiced in the art of butchery - it is cold, wet, slippery and repetitive. Although the smokehouse relies on a variety of machines this is a manul-labor intensive business. Hands touch the meat at each stage of the process. Instead of each man boning an entire ham they share the steps of removing the three large bones and trimming the ham between them. The men were cordial, but clearly intensely focused as their knives separated meat from bone. Part of their concentration was motivated by safety and part, as Trey explained, by the desire to get through the pile of hams and on the road home before the big storm hit later that afternoon. Some of the ham was destined for tasso, a highly seasoned, smoked Cajun specialty. Other hams would be brined, then netted and allowed to cure for 24 hours before packaging.

 

                    

                         Hams post brining                     Smoked povolone

After the processing room we visited the room-sized smoker, where provolone was being smoked. Of course, klutz that I am, I dropped my pen into a bin of hickory, mesquite and apple chips. Fortunately, I was able to retrieve it before the chips were used. Smoking was more complex that I would have guessed, involving three fifteen-minute cycles, each cycle warmer than the one before, with a five-minute drying period between each smoking cycle. Smoke won’t penetrate wet surfaces of meat or sausage, so the drying is important. A final smokeless cooking period follows. Meats are cooked to an internal temperature of 160 degrees, then cooled to 40 degrees. Generally, it takes much longer for the meats to cool than to cook.
On our next stop we checked out a variety of machinery used by the Smokehouse. The first was a vacuum tumbler. The proteins of meat tumbled in a vacuum migrate to the surface where they stick together, making the meat easier to handle. (Who invents these things?) The tumbler was used for a boneless turkey breast intended for slicing. Next up we saw a brand-new sausage stuffer, unfortunately idle (Friday is ham day, remember?). In the course of its twenty-five year career the old stuffer had packed over a million pounds of seasoned meat into sausage casing. Two final examples of mechanized labor were a brining machine that sent needles into the meat so the brine would penetrate faster, and a mechanical packer sealing pork loins in plastic containers.

 

   

                                             Hanging Andouille

For our final stop Trey led us down to the basement storeroom. Stacks of spices—cinnamon, cumin, paprika, nutmeg, cayenne, fennel, marjoram, coriander, allspice, ginger, cloves, and anise—testified to the complex recipes that result in the fabulous Smokehouse flavors. Dave Nosiglia earned his chops as a Master Sausage Maker after completing a demanding three-year apprenticeship in Germany, an education he rounded off with an additional stint in Louisiana.

 

   
                                   Tailgating Guerrilla Grilling Style

And then it was time to feast. Nuno had been grilling outside on the loading dock as snow thickened from flurries into something more serious. A makeshift buffet table complete with white tablecloths had been set up downstairs with platters of sausage, coleslaw from Rialto, our ubiquitous saffron peppers and grilled squashes.

                        

                                                  Our banquett

We sat down and dug in, a minute elapsing as everyone snatched at napkins to control the juices squirting over fingers and down chins. Blood sausage, bratwurst, chorizo and weisswurst! We all gave up at the same time, grinning through the dribbles. Worrying about a little messiness seemed quibbling in the face of such incredible flavor. After the meal and cleanup all of us bought of sausages in anticipation of the upcoming holidays.

 

   

                                  GG's doing some holiday shopping

The snow was heavier as we loaded up our gear and waved goodbye to Trey. Our adventure had taken us into a part of Boston we never visited and revealed it in an unexpected light. Like a lot of the small food entrepreneurs we visit, the Smokehouse has the feeling of a family. Trey Goodman took a job as a part-time delivery man for the Smokehouse twenty-one years ago; now he’s the manager. Dave Nosiglio didn’t want to go to college. Hey! Let’s make sausage! The business has grown organically out of a passion for making and selling the best sausages possible. People taking pride in making a high-quality product and serving a loyal community. They still make small 50-pound customized batches for their customers. How great is that? The next time I drive down Blue Hill Avenue I won’t feel quite so much the curious passerby. I may even stop and buy some sausages.

                      

                                         A perfect Smokehouse sandwich     

The Smokehouse has a small retail store located at 340 Washington Street in Norwell (781.659.4824). Smokehouse products are also available at Savenor's Market and Pemberton Farms.

Here's a recipe inspired by the adventure:

Bucatini alla Guerilla Grilling with Eggs and Tasso Ham