Charcuterie. For Dad.

We've moved into the last week of Advanced Garde Manger, and the last week of school. Our team is working on charcuterie (the branch of cooking devoted to prepared meat products, including cured meats and sausages), much of which will not be finished this week. For example, the ham I began today (by trimming and partially boning a whole pork leg) will soak for several days in brine, after which it will be smoked, then left to hang for up to six weeks. Chef Al told me I could have visitation rights.

When my father made a career change in his 40s, it's not surprising that the small business he chose to buy was a delicatessen. He's always had a love of sausages: the Polish kielbasa that he was raised on, Genoa salami from Molinari's in San Francisco, and his favorite, mortadella. None of us could ever understand how he could eat that stuff, filled with polka-dots of fat and whole pistachio nuts (or liverwurst, either, for that matter) and enjoy it so very much.

Dad has always been game to try anything at least once, (as long as it doesn't involve sports or card-playing), and he's experimented frequently with sausage-making. He has loved being in the kitchen, and any long elaborate process that involves knives or mechanical equipment. His curiousity and desire for new experiences filled our house with a variety of projects over the years: a small fully equiped darkroom in the garage. Fiberglass kayaks, a pair, made in that same garage. He sawed a lot of wood in that garage, too, and if the board was especially long, the kid holding the other end would have to open two doors and stand in the kitchen... Lots of stories. Lots of projects.

The only regret I have about this year of culinary school is that Dad hasn't been able to participate in it with me. At another point in his life, he would have been eager to discuss my day's activities. He would have said, "I'll go with you, and I'll carry your knife bag." He would have been an avid reader of this blog. He would have bragged about me to relative strangers. (He loved to brag about all his children.) When he came to the Careme Room for the Buffet, he would have introduced himself to all the chefs, and told them that I was his daughter.

This week, I'm going to make the mortadella.