Andouillette isn’t really known in Australia. It’s a coarse-grained sausage made from tripe (particularly the small intestines, generally of pork, though veal used to be used prior to the BSE crisis); most sources at least comment on its strong odour. Tripe isn’t popular in Australia to begin with, any unusual or repellent aromas guarantee that it won’t make friends.
I first tasted in in Troyes — one of its spiritual homelands, the Andouillette de Troyes being particularly noted and admired by devotees. I had a plan to work in a small domaine on the Côtes de Bars, in the very south of Champagne. It didn’t work out, for various reasons, but we had a meal at Aux Crieurs de Vin. I had no idea what it was, but I loved the rich, gamey, porky flavour, and the soft, gorgeous, coarse-cut texture.
I encountered it again in a small café on Place Carnot, Beaune, whilst working for a mid-sized negociant there. This time I knew what it was, and a bit about its reputation. I have to admit, if it has a disagreeable aroma, I’ve not noticed — but then, I’ve never encountered it raw. And I’ve heard of people being so horrified by the smell, that they refuse to sit in the same room as someone else eating it. Honestly, I’m not sure why. Maybe they have particularly ultra-sensitive smell?
But all this adds up to a sausage unlikely to be found in Australia. I looked on the internet after coming back to Queensland from Beaune. A passing mention on a market trader’s website suggested I could get hold of it at one of the Brisbane markets … but they’d stopped making it years ago, due to lack of demand. Every now and then, I’d look again and find nothing.
Just last year, though, I had some more luck. Two restaurants in Melbourne seemed to have it, including France-Soir in South Yarra, and Paris Go in Carlton, albeit both as entrées, not as plats principaux. Presumably a butcher somewhere there was making andouillette for both places. But I’m not in Melbourne, and don’t often get there. Close, but still 1730 km too far!
Further searching found a place in Brisbane that specialised in Louisiana style cooking. Andouillette at some point made the long voyage to Louisiana, and became andouille, a smoked, spicey tripe sausage popular in Cajun dishes such a Gumbo. (Andouillette just means ‘little andouille‘, so the name change is completely explicable). French Andouillette it ain’t, but it’s a close relative, at least.
On a rare trip into Brisbane, I finally got to Creole Soul Kitchen on Boundary Street, Spring Hill. I wanted to try a dish which featured andouille, and I was also keen to try the Cajun style Po’ Boy sandwiches I’d heard of, but never previously eaten. Luckily I found I could order an andouille Po’ Boy with a side of gumbo. I ordered a beer, too, and waited for my meal.
It wasn’t an ideal day. November in Queensland is already hot and muggy, and with the full brunt of the wet season ahead, you know it can only get worse. As I waited, the results of the US presidential election were just trickling through, and a Trump presidency was rapidly shifting from being an absurd improbability to a terrifying inevitability. We live in interesting times indeed.
Creole Soul Kitchen, Boundary Road, Spring Hill, Brisbane.
iPhone 4s, builtin 4.28mm (~35mm) lens, 1/250 sec, f/2.4, ISO 50.
As predicted, andouille wasn’t quite like andouillette. This is no criticism, really, they’re different sausages, from different cuisines. It had some of the meaty, earthiness of the French andouillette, but seemed more domesticated, less sauvage. Still incredibly tasty though: worth the trip. The Po’ Boy itself I was a little disappointed with, being a touch on the bland side, but the Gumbo was beautiful: rich, earthy, spicy. Next time I might just have that. Or I might try one of the other Po’ Boys, too, but with a full serving of Gumbo. The beer, Blue Moon, brewed with coriander and oats, was beautiful, and perfect on a hot day. Billed as an imported beer, the bottle suggested it was in fact brewed ‘under licence’ in Australia. Not exactly a craft beer, but good nonetheless.
Lunch gradually dawdled to a conclusion, and I paid the bill, and left. I walked back towards Roma Street station. It was still hot and muggy, but at least I had been fortified with good food.
I’m still waiting till my next chance to try andouillette again, however …