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Everyone reading this newsletter knows that Peter Sanagan runs two butcher shops in Toronto. But, like any other reasonable, well-rounded person, he had a life before the meat business and continues to have a life in spite of it — a very busy ambitious life. Here are some excerpts from an interview I conducted with the boss regarding the latest installment in the life of Peter.

Graham: So Peter, how would you describe this new project.

Peter: laughs I think you can only describe it as a musical.

Graham: I think it’s safe to say that most people didn’t see that coming.

Peter: Oh, for sure but that’s what’s so fun, and frankly, therapeutic about it; it’s so far away from running two butcher shops.

Graham: So, is it like a traditional singing and dancing musical?

Peter: Yeah, I’m a big fan of the genre: Rodgers and Hammerstein, Andrew Lloyd Weber, Rent — all the greats.

Graham: Is this something you have a background in?

Peter: Well, before I got into food, I was a bit of a stage brat. As a kid I was in the touring version of the Polka Dot Door. I did a few commercials. Google https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tz2ARTdaqE0 I was on my way to gaining admittance to the National Theatre School when I got a summer job at Licks, and then that was that. From there it was food all the way. But now I really need something other than work and family.

Graham: What’s it about?

Peter: It’s totally based around my experiences starting up a butcher shop in the market. In a lots of ways it’s about Kensington Market and so therefore about the city itself.

Graham: Wow. So what are some of the numbers?

Peter: Right off the top of my head? Long pause I Can See Myself In That Shop Window; Cows and Pigs and Chickens and Me; Help Wanted - Apply Within; Sing-agan’s…

Graham: That sounds like fun. Are you pitching this to any producers or theatre companies?

Peter: Oh it’s early days for that but The Ontario Cattle Breeders Association is on board.

Graham: Where do you envision staging it?

Peter: Well the truth of the matter is, we’ve got so many talented performers working here at Sanagan’s, that I think I might try doing it in-house. I mean, it’s like the shop is already a stage.

Graham: Does it have a name?

Peter: Oh that was easy. April Fools.

"So, I think I'm buying a butcher shop."

The summer of 2009 was a very different time in our lives, but I still remember the bar we were sitting in (each with our then-girlfriends/now-wives) when Peter told me his next move. He was moving away from restaurants and teaching at George Brown and heading into business for himself at the site of the old 'Max and Sons' butcher shop in Kensington Market. From the beginning Peter saw the opportunity to connect smaller Ontario farmers with consumers in Toronto. It was a risk then, but like the store on Gerrard St. (I'm bringing this all together here...) it pretty quickly became a fixture within the neighbourhood.

Though the move to Gerrard St. had a few parallels (smaller store, window display, more blending of front of house and butchery work), our 'new' space on Gerrard St. couldn't be more different than the original. With the experience we have running the Kensington Market stores, the opening and transition into being a two-location business has been (as far as these things go) pretty smooth. Sure, there were some construction delays and tense moments right before opening, and it's been a lot of work as we get off the ground in a new part of the city, and I probably shouldn't have ordered so much lamb for Easter last year while so few people knew we were even open...but I digress.

We want to use this anniversary as an opportunity to say thank you. Thank you to the tireless efforts of our staff (big shout outs to Cole, Scott, Sophie, Lester and Steven, all of whom were there from day one right through the first Christmas), the support of our neighbours (seriously, go check out Lazy Daisy's, Swag Sisters, The Pantry, Godspeed Brewery, Pizzeria via Mercanti, The Flying Pony, Glory Hole Doughnuts and all the other great neighbourhood shops!) and our incredible and loyal customers (both the group that has shopped with us in Kensington for years, and the group that is discovering us for the first time).

The Gerrard St. store has been a great opportunity for us in a number of ways. The greatest of these opportunities is that this store provides us the means to connect a new neighbourhood with the spectacular Ontario producers we work with. We truly believe that supporting local producers is not only better for our community as a whole, but that Ontario producers have some really kick-ass products, and that should be celebrated.

Please come down to the Gerrard St. store on Sunday, March 17th for some samples and anniversary specials. Thanks for a great first year Gerrard St!

2019 = Pig. Yay!

According to the Chinese astrological calendar, 2019 is the Year of the Pig. Now that’s a chronological event Sanagan’s can really get on board with. Our domestic and heritage breeds of pork, as well as wild boar will enhance any dishes you may be considering for your Chinese New Year feast.

Gwenyn Huang has only recently hung up her meat hawker apron at our Kensington store so she can dedicate more time to her studies in Literature at University of Toronto. We asked Gwenyn what pork the Huang family likes to prepare for Chinese New Year. Here, in her own literate words, Gwenyn outlines the preparation of pork belly fried in red wine dregs.

One of the many dishes we make in our family is pork belly fried in wine dregs. The wine dregs, which is the sediment left over from making Foochow red wine, is fermented and has a very strong flavour and is bright red. It dyes the pork bright red as well, which is why it's so appropriate for the new years. In China, red has always been a festive colour that symbolises fortune and prosperity.

Only a little is needed for any recipe since it's so pungent, which is good because it's hard to come by. (The real stuff is.) My family has a jar that we guard very jealously! But for special occasions as important as the New Year, possibly the biggest holiday in China, we bring it out for sure. But first, we heat a lot of oil and deep fry cubes of pork belly. Then we strain the lot and while the excess oil drips away from the pork, we heat a little bit of oil in a pan. We throw slices of ginger into the hot oil and let it crackle and then a heaping tablespoon (no skimping on New Years) of the wine dregs. We fry the wine dregs for a few seconds, carefully since it burns easily, and then toss in the pork belly. Once all the pork belly is coated and bright red, it's ready to go!

Thanks Gwenyn. When should we come over for dinner?

The most important thing about a New Year’s party? Have fun! What’s not fun? Stressing about the food. As a guest you want to bring something portable, pleasing and easy for the host. As a host you want to serve a celebratory spread that doesn’t require being in the kitchen until next year. A charcuterie board selected from Sanagan’s deli counter does it all.

To start with, here are some seasonal Sanagan’s exclusives and house-made items that will really flatter your New Year’s platter.

Mangalitsa: Our special speck, copa, bacon and prosciutto from the rare-breed Hungarian Mangalitsa pig. (Ontario-raised, of course.)

Premium Pâté en Croute: Our decadent pastry-encased pâté gets even decadenter over the holidays. We’ll be packing them with things like venison, smoked duck breast and foie gras. Naughty? Nice? You should still get a slice.

Holiday Terrines: Our in-house charcutier has whipped up various recipes to bring a touch of luxury to your celebrations.

Boudin Blanc: A delicate white sausage flavoured with black truffles.

Pickles and Condiments: Beerhall and Old Yeller mustard, pickled red onions, giardiniera, red current and cranberry jelly. All made by our Kensington kitchen team.

THE FIVE POINTS OF THE CHARCUTERIE BOARD STAR

Lets look at the essentials that will make your tray tres bon!

1. Cold Cuts and Sausages

Salamis, hams, cured meats and dried sausages; nothing says Buffet the Appetite Slayer like a big spread of these bite-sized delights. The cold cuts are served as melt-in-your-mouth deli slices and the sausages can be chopped into rounds for variations in texture and shape.

2. Terrines and Pâtés

These rich traditional preparations are the essence of festive nibbling. Spread these around and your New Year’s toast will have never had it so good.

3. Cheese

Party snacking without cheese? No whey! Sanagan’s Kensington is proud to carry a selection of Ontario cheeses. Hard, soft, creamy and washed rind classic styles are available from artisanal producers like Monforte, Fifth Town, Back 40 and Forfar. If you're a Gerrard shopper, you can visit our neighbours at The Pantry for a similar selection.

4. Condiments and Pickles

The acidity of the pickles, the sweetness of the jellies, the bite of the mustard; they all add essential counterpoints of flavour, texture, colour and moisture to your board.

5. Grains

Fill ‘em up with crackers, toasts and bread. Even though we’re a butcher shop, we can help here too. Evelyn’s and our neighbour, Blackbird Bakery constitute Kensington’s cracker collection. And Gerrard’s got you covered with fresh Blackbird bread, daily.

THE NUTS AND BOLTS OF HAM AND CHEESE

As a starting point, you could budget 100 grams of proteins per guest. So for 10 partiers you could select 330 grams of cold cuts and sausage, 330 grams terrines and pates and 330 grams of cheese. Then add in your garnishes, bread and crackers and your guests will be greeted with the sight of charcuterie board that elegantly yet emphatically decrees — let the festive munching begin!

The above is a very approximate formula for an inexact art. Most customers will just come in, and with the help of a Sanagan’s meat hawker, build their charcuterie board navigating between their eyes and their wallet.

It was very early into my time working at Mistura, a mainstay of Toronto’s Italian dining scene, that I had my first exposure to cotechino. Bollito misto may not be the most well known Italian dish, but it is very classically Italian, relying on quality ingredients that have been simply prepared. This was the first time I had seen the dish, but while it was new to me, most of the ingredients were pretty common. The one that stuck out was the delicious cotechino sausage with its exceptional texture. It isn't a common ingredient in Toronto, and I haven't had much of a chance to work with it since, until our resident Charcutier Scott started making his own.

Like most great charcuterie, cotechino was born of a need to conserve limited meat supplies for the longest possible time. Rumour has it that this sausage's use dates to the early 1500's in Northern Italy. It is very similar to the traditional zampone, with the main difference being that zampone are typically stuffed into the hind trotter from the pig. The French produce a version of their own (which Scott has also played around with) called sabodet.

Our house-made cotechino is a combination of pork meat, fat and skin, and flavoured with ground coriander and warm spices such as allspice, cinnamon and ginger. It's the use of the pork skin that leads to the unique texture of the cotechino.

While you could, I suppose, use cotechino in most any instance where you would use regular pork sausages, there are a couple of applications we would specifically recommend for you. The combination of most accessible and traditional would be as part of your New Year's Eve dinner, served with lentils (which represent the prospect of money to come in the new year). Less traditional but equally delicious would be in place of our regular breakfast sausages at any holiday brunch. And then there’s bollito misto. This is a fantastic use of the product, but much better suited to someone who has a full day to devote to the prep, and 11 friends to share the meal with. However you choose to enjoy our cotechino, come in for it soon as we only make it through the holiday season. Felice anno nuovo!

When I first started cooking school I had a class called “Food Basics One” taught by a crusty old German chef who had no time for disinterest. His first lecture sounded like this: “If you don’t want to be here, don’t come. I don’t care. If your mommy or daddy paid for this education and you don’t come, take it up with them. I don’t care. If you are paying your own way for this education and you don’t come, you’re an idiot. But regardless, if you DO come, absorb and learn and maybe one day you will become a chef.” Needless to say, if I was going to stay I had better shut up and actually pay attention. One of the things I’m glad I paid attention to was how to make stock – probably the most essential thing to know how to make. I don’t care if you’re a master grill cook, or if you can carve a potato in such a way that it forms a chain-link (admittedly very cool); if you can’t make a decent stock or broth, you didn’t listen that first day, and you probably aren’t a chef now.

But you don’t need to be a chef to make an excellent stock or broth. It’s the easiest thing in the world, because even at it’s most basic it’s just bones and water. It can be much, much more than that of course, but even a university student can find enough couch change to make a simple broth; sustaining themselves long enough to get through their next “World of Warcraft” session or whatever it is university students need sustenance for. I do want to clarify the difference between a “stock” and a “broth” here though, because I do think there is some confusion about the two.

Stock is what you make when you want a neutral base of flavorful liquid to accommodate a lot of different recipes.

Broth is what you make when you want a more assertively flavored liquid that will eventually probably become a soup, but not necessarily.

At the end of the day, the main difference is salt. Salt enhances the flavour of anything. Eat a raw carrot straight up. If it’s a well grown carrot it will probably be tasty, somewhat sweet. Now lick that carrot and sprinkle salt on your lick stain. Now eat that carrot. Effin’ delicious. Now, knowing salt’s effects, you must be judicious when using it. Especially in a stock that might be reduced by twenty times it’s volume. If a stock is highly salted originally, it will be gross when reduced that much. Science, right?

Because a stock is made to be a lighter base, the flavours don’t have to be aggressive. My favourite is chicken stock. Sooooooo versatile it’s ridiculous. I use it in almost everything. Instead of sautéing vegetables in oil I will lightly poach them in chicken stock. I will boil cauliflower in chicken stock and a touch of cream before puréeing it to velvet smoothness. I’ll reduce chicken stock down in a hot pan, add a stem of thyme and a chopped shallot, and at the last minute just before the stock completely evaporates, I’ll whisk in a little cold butter and a squeeze of lemon juice for a delicious pan sauce. I really don’t want to sound fancy, because it’s NOT fancy. Homemade macarons are fancy; stock is grade school.

Here’s a recipe that you’ve probably seen a variation of in every cookbook, but whatever. One more won’t hurt.

Chicken Stock

1 chicken carcass (it’ll probably be about 1.5 lbs, depending on the size of the chicken. Get two if you think they look small. Get your butcher to chop it in, like, three pieces or so. If you don’t have a butcher, leave it whole. Or come to my shop.)

Put the chicken carcass in a pot that will hold it and cover the bones with water, just about an inch above the top of the bones. If you have a whole carcass and it’s sitting awkwardly in the pot, almost cover it with water. If you start feeling stressed out at this stage, have another glass of wine. I think I forgot to mention you should be drinking something before you even start. Anything will do. (Please drink responsibly.)

Put the pot on a medium heat and add a pinch of salt. Just a pinch. Then add:

1 small onion – cut in four with the skin on
1 medium carrot – peeled and cut into four pieces
1 stalk of celery – washed and cut into four
2 bay leaves – fresh or dry
Like, 5 peppercorns
3 cloves of garlic
Let the water come to a simmer, and then reduce the heat to just over low. A bunch of crap will rise to the top of your stock (mainly coagulated proteins and fat). Take a ladle or a spoon and try to skim that crap off before it muddies your stock. After the stock has simmered for an hour and a half, turn the heat off and let the stock “steep” as it gradually cools. It is very important to let the stock rest this way. It might not do anything actually, but I like to believe it solidifies the stock’s flavour profile.

Now strain the stock through the finest strainer you have. A wire mesh one is great, but a salad spinner basket will do.

And you’re done.

See that!? My eight-year-old niece could do that, and she hasn’t even finished Harry Potter and The Goblet Of Fire yet. I’m not saying you have to do it, but at least know how to do it. Make it once and stop being such a little princess.

And now broth. When I worked in Italy we would make a broth to use as a base for everything. Similar to stock, except it had more flavour, more oomph, more balls. It was the best when used sparingly, like when reheating a ragu of rabbit for example. Put a little of the refrigerated, pre-made ragu in a pan, add a quarter cup of broth and bring to a simmer before tossing it with your cooked pasta. Even better, add the pasta when it’s not quite cooked and let it finish in the brothy ragu. Add a knob of butter and some freshly chopped parsley, toss to combine everything and plate. Beauty Clark!

Broth is used when making risotto, because the intense aroma will encapsulate every grain of that rice and hug them in an embrace of deliciousness. Also it adds flavour to rice. Broth is the best base for soups, as a well made broth only needs a garnish and perhaps a little more salt to be eaten as is. It is a restorative, giving strength where stock gives sustenance. I know it seems like little difference, and when you get down to the nitty gritty, when making this at home you would probably make some kind of hybrid stock-broth and leave it at that. But that little difference means the world to a chef. A stock just isn’t as hardcore as a broth. But half the time you only want soft-core. That’s just how it is.

A broth is usually made with meatier bits than just the bones. Bones are there, sure, but so is meat. Remember, meat has more flavour than bones on their own. Give a dog a marrowbone and she will love you. Give her a shank bone with the meat attached and that dog will be your bitch for life. On that note…

Meat Broth

2 chicken legs
1 beef short rib (about a pound’s worth)
1 pig’s foot, split (if this is too hard to get, forget it, it’s not worth crying about)
Put all of the meats in a roasting pan, liberally season with salt and freshly ground pepper. Drizzle with oil and place in an oven that is preheated to 400˚F. After about twenty minutes the meat should be browning nicely. Remove them from the roasting pan and put in a pot. There will be a bunch of caramelized bits of meat on the bottom of the roasting pan. Pour enough water to cover the bottom of the pan and put it back in the oven. This will help “loosen” those little flavour bits. Meanwhile cover the meat with cold water and put the pot on a medium heat. After a couple of minutes take the roasting pan out of the oven and using a wooden spoon scrape the bits off the bottom, making a type of meat slurry. Pour that deliciousness into the stockpot. Now add:

1 big onion, skin on and cut into four
2 carrots, peeled and cut into four pieces
2 stalks of celery
6 cloves of garlic
6 bay leaves, fresh or dry
A small handful of whole peppercorns
A generous pinch of salt
As with the stock, as soon as the broth comes to a simmer a bunch of crap will rise to the top. Use a ladle or spoon and get rid of it. Turn the heat down to just above the lowest setting and simmer for two or three hours. Taste the broth. It should taste like yummy soup. Perhaps a slightly under-seasoned soup. No worries, you can always add salt at the end. Turn off the heat and let the broth steep for an hour before straining it.

So this was a little more complicated, what with the roasting pan and all, but still! If you can ride the bus by yourself, you can make this. And you will be happy. Maybe not the big chef you want to be one day, but a damn good cook who is welcome in my kitchen any day.

And this is the point of knowing the difference. Cooking can be just a necessity, but it can be much more than that. With a little push, Kraft Dinner can be Baked Pasta. Cream of Mushroom soup doesn’t have to come out of a can every time. Sometimes it’s awesome to indulge in premade garbage. Peanut butter on Saltines is the shit. But with every hot dog, have some broth. Your grandmother would be proud.

I’ve made a new friend, and her name is Jennifer McLagan. Back when I was a nobody chef (prepping for six hours, service for five hours, scrubbing the insides of ovens for two hours) I loved going home and reading cookbooks on my downtime. Still do actually, and you can find a selection of my favorite “meaty” ones perched on my display cooler in the shop. Some of you have grabbed one and flipped through it while waiting your turn. Some of you put your coffee on them and forget it in the shop. Cookbooks have become very much in vogue – giant glossies weigh down many a coffee table (I’m assuming so it doesn’t float away) – but my favorites are still the classic, informative reads. The Fergus Hendersons, Nigel Slaters, Jane Grigsons and Anna Del Contes of this world have kept me reading and learning. Their books gave me ideas and recipes, always keeping me excited about my chosen field. A few years ago I added a new author to that list: Jennifer McLagan. Her books about fat and bones are clearly written for the diners, and treasured by the cooks. I enjoy reading a book that doesn’t pussyfoot around sensitive topics. They might not be bestsellers (though I think that may change soon enough) but they are honest, well written and informative. So you can imagine my glee when Jennifer started to shop at the Meat Locker. I remember it well. Soon after I had opened a certain Food Network Host came in to check me out. I don’t want to name-drop, but Laura Calder apparently liked what she saw, noticed I had copies of Jennifer’s books on my shelf and decided she MUST inform her friend of her find. I guess they chatted at a dinner party (I imagine they ate roasted squab perfumed with Périgord truffles while debating the merit of truffles from Oregon – but I digress) and the next thing I know Ms. McLagan was in my shop, asking if I ever got in beef heart. By the grace of God I had some in my locker, so as if I was a cleaver-wielding Fonzie I cooly replied, “of course, who doesn’t?” I guess she liked that response and has been a frequent customer ever since. Jennifer has recently completed and published the final chapter in her trilogy on meat. Odd Bits, not surprisingly, is a great read, full of interesting tidbits and cool recipes that are approachable. This is very important because the subject matter is sometimes unapproachable. Not too many people like brains. Even fewer enjoy lungs. I for one have turned my nose up at testicles, claiming: “hey, war’s over, onto steak.” One of the reasons I liked reading Odd Bits is it feels like Jennifer has said that very thing once or twice before, but has spurned that attitude now and adopted a more adventurous one, happily taking us by the hand and walking us through a thick forest of offal, bones and fat. It might not be for everyone’s tastes, but I think it’s important to recognize the worth of these ingredients. Like Kanye, I’m not here to convert atheists into believers, but I’d love to smack some knowledge over a newbie’s head. And Jennifer feels the same way. I say bravo madame, bravo. However, I still don’t want to eat balls. You can read Jennifer Bain’s awesome interview with us here.

Almost exactly two years ago I asked my parents for more money than I thought I ever would. It wasn’t an obscene amount mind you, but enough to buy a nice small car. Perhaps a pre-owned Mini Cooper. They were gracious enough to lend me the money and I was thrilled to begin work on what would become my best job ever. Sanagan’s Meat Locker has stood the test of two years now, long enough to sneer at the bankers who originally laughed me out the door but not quite long enough to become the institution I hope to be one day. Give me another fifty some odd years and maybe that dream will come true.

I want to thank all of our regular customers who have supported us, even when we were consistently selling out of things like chicken and sausage. Now I kick myself when that happens. What kind of butcher shop sells out of chicken for crying out loud? It has been quite the learning curve but people have stood by us, and every week we meet new faces, peeking in the window and asking themselves, “why is there sawdust on the floor”, “how the hell do you cook rabbit”, “what’s a Meat Locker”, or “just where is South 50 Farm anyway”?

These questions, as well as my self-indulgent desire to have an online voice, have led to this blog. It won’t be the most elaborate blog, but that’s the point. I want people to be able to easily navigate the site, find the information they need, and leave to go eat or something. Because let’s face it, you’re here because you love food, drink and merriment. So let’s get on with this then.

Peter Sanagan