It’s testimony to the wonderful childhood my parents provided for me that I had little idea how precarious our family finances were. I should have seen it because, after all, we had three families living under one roof. But the actions they took to keep us fed didn’t seem born of necessity – maybe because I enjoyed them so much.
In the summertime, my dad I and I (along with our uncle and fellow housemate, who had a car) would head for the canal where we’d catch crappies for supper (we never called it dinner). During the fall and winter, the men would hunt for squirrel and rabbit, which my mom, grandmother and aunts would fry up, then roast with Campbell’s cream of mushroom soup. All perfectly normal. No hardship at all. It was just what we did.
When I was 10 or 11 and on the early, early cusp of manhood, my Dad began taking me to Stetson’s cattle farm each spring for the owner’s popular cookout. It was a strictly male-only event. Giggling about it, my mom and aunts told us to have fun as we left for an evening of feasting, beer drinking, and male bonding.
You see, this was the time of year that bulls were birthed. And that mean it was time to cut their balls off.
I, of course, had no idea what was involved at STETSON’S ROCKY MOUNTAIN OYSTER ANNUAL SPRING COOKOUT. There I was, an 11-year-old early adopter of open-fire oak-grilled bull testicles (served on a burger bun slathered with French’s yellow mustard) and it didn’t even occur to me to brag about it to friends. “Please sir….may I have another”.
Later in my culinary life, I became familiar with chefs using the whole animal – including balls, snouts, brains and innards. The movement is called “the Fifth Quarter” and it allows restaurants to make ethical and environmentally sustainable use of the entire animal.
You may also have heard it referred to as “snout-to-tail dining.”
Major markets around the globe have seen the sprouting of whole-animal restaurants. SABOR in London, located just off Regent Street, features deep fried pig’s ears and half whole-pig feasts where hard-core carnivores thrill to ears, jowls and snouts still attached to the head. Also in London, there’s BARRAFINA, where Joanne and I enjoyed (well, perhaps only I enjoyed) lamb sweetbreads from the wood-fired grill.
Perhaps the first time we ventured into the joys of snout-to-tail dining was in Paris when our kids were probably 5 and 6 years old. PIED DE COCHON, which opened in the old Les Halles market area in 1947, specialized in serving left-over pig parts. In fact, it’s probably the only restaurant in the world to be named after a pig’s foot. I remember the experience vividly. After all, it was at my insistence that we visited Pied de Cochon and ordered their signature deep-fried trotter. Talk about dining as theater – each platter arrived at our table with TOENAILS INTACT and hair-bristling between them.
Only I gave the “pieds” a proper go. Noting the unsatisfied look on my kids’ faces, the staff served each of us a complimentary young “pig cup,” which turned out to be a watery small bowl of canned fruit cocktail. WTF.
A place in Chicago has caught our attention: THE PUBLICAN. It’s still there and thriving. Joanne even scarfed down a few salty pig-skin crackling (you can take the girl out of Sparta, Illinois…).
And that brings us to the Prince of Pig…the King of the Kidneys… the Oracle of Offal…the Baron of Balls and Guru of Gonads: FERGUS HENDERSON, who in 1995 boldly launched ST. JOHN RESTAURANT near the Smithfield Market in London. His simple creed was, “If you’re going to bang an animal on the head, it’s only polite that you eat it all.”
St. John is a favorite of mine and I’ve eaten there several times both with family and Parasole colleagues. It’s not Joanne’s favorite (that’s an understatement), but I’m pleased to report that with my then 9-year-old grandson, the ball doesn’t fall far from the sac. He devoured a plate of DEVILED LAMB KIDNEYS, served on toast with a mustard sauce.
Fergus Henderson was the first, I believe, to offer roast beef bones with parsley salad as a signature dish. It arrives loaded to the brim with gelatinous beefy marrow for spreading on toasted bread.
Another appetizer choice would be smooth and effortless Chicken Liver Mousse, slathered on toasted pumpernickel.
Even if you are a bit on the prissy side, you should at least try a kidney with gravy and mashed potatoes. You may not like it, but you can have bragging rights.
Now, it takes a certain kind of person to not like crispy, salty Deep-Fried Chicken Skin, especially as a crunchy counterpoint in a leafy green salad.
A pair of thick and gloriously fatty Middlewhite Heritage Pork Chops are a carnivore’s dream.
Wild game makes frequent appearances on Fergus’ menus, including Roasted Wild Rabbit, Pheasant and Lamb leg Pot Pie For Two.
So what was Joanne to order? Fortunately, St. John’s offers safe harbors such as Roast Leg of Lamb, Grilled Halibut, and a few other seafood options.
DESSERT? Sticky Toffee Pudding, of course, and a plate of madeleine cookies.
BTW, if those offerings make you squeamish, you should know that St. John has earned a Michelin star 15 years in a row.
Closer to home, I had another favorite: ANIMAL in Los Angeles. Sadly, it didn’t survive COVID and closed last June. But they deserve a mention because chefs Vinny Detolo and Jon Shook came as close as anyone in the United States to honoring Fergus Henderson’s philosophy. They proudly admit to “knocking off” the legendary chef’s roast beef bones and marrow, crackly beef tendons, and chicken liver toast – not to mention veal brains.
Joanne had a difficult time at Animal and eventually ordered the Soft-Shell Crab, which she loved. But the idea of Buffalo Pigs Tails and Chicken Feet caused her to step outside for some fresh air.
WTF
PHIL