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This classic Hungarian dish will warm your body and soul as the days get shorter and the evenings get chillier. You can make it as spicy or as mild as you want, depending on the type of paprika you use (since I’m feeding a child, I use a mild paprika). No matter which type you use, try to get the freshest paprika available. That means that if you're staring at the jar that you may have bought when you graduated university, it may be time for a new jar. Unless you’re a recent graduate, in that case congratulations! Make this dish part of your adult repertoire – you’ll want to make it a few times throughout the year, believe me! Serve with simple buttered egg noodles, as is tradition in Hungary.

Serves 4

Ingredients

3                           bell peppers
3                           plum tomatoes
1                           whole chicken, backbone removed, cut into ten even pieces
to taste                 salt and pepper
3 tbsp                   butter, divided
2                           medium onions, peeled and finely chopped
2                           bacon slices, diced
5 cloves                garlic, minced
3 tbsp                   mild paprika (or hot if you’re feeling spicy)
2 cups                   chicken stock
3 tbsp                    flour
½ cup                    sour cream
½ cup                    heavy whipping cream

Method

1. Roast the peppers, either under the broiler or over the gas flame on a stove top, turning frequently until the skin is blackened and charred. Set in a bowl and cover with plastic wrap until cool to the touch (about 30 minutes). Peel the skin and cut out the seeds and core, then cut the pepper into 1” strips. Set aside for the time being.
2. Bring a pot of water to a boil over a high heat. Cut the core out of the tomatoes, then score the bottom of the tomato with a small “x”. Fill a bowl with ice water. Plunge the tomatoes into the boiling water and blanch for 10 seconds, then immediately drain and drop the tomatoes into the ice water to cool. Remove the cooled tomatoes and use a paring knife to peel the skin (they should slip right off). Quarter the tomatoes and discard the seeds.
3. Season the chicken with the salt and pepper. In a large heavy bottomed pot over a medium heat, melt 2 tbsp of the butter. Working in batches, brown the chicken well, about five minutes per side. Set the chicken aside and repeat until all the chicken is browned and set aside. Lower the heat to medium low.
4. Preheat the oven to 325°F.
5. Add the remaining tbsp of butter to the pot, then the onions, bacon, garlic, and paprika. Stir well, scraping the bits of cooked chicken from the bottom of the pot. Cover the pot and sweat the onions and bacon until translucent, about 20 minutes. Add the browned chicken, the roasted pepper strips, and the quartered tomatoes to the pot with the chicken stock; stir well to combine. Bring to a simmer, cover, and place in oven. Braise for 45 minutes, or until the chicken is cooked through.
6. Remove the chicken pieces only from the pot and set aside. Bring the pot to a simmer over a medium heat. In a work bowl, whisk together the flour, sour cream, and whipping cream until combined. Whisk the cream mixture into the simmering broth, and bring back to a simmer, cooking for two minutes or until slightly thickened. Add the chicken back to the pot and simmer for an additional ten minutes. Serve on hot buttered egg noodles, with the extra sauce on the side.

by Graham Duncan

As a born and raised white bread Scarberian, my formative encounters with offal were limited to servings of beef liver fired in the merciless crucible of my mother’s English-Canadian kitchen. Monotone grey and barely pliable, they more resembled orthotics than dinner. This formative trauma overshadowed my adult life with “variety meats” until once, in Venice, I ordered Fegato alla Veneziana (liver Venetian style). And I loved it. 

Now, working in one of Canada’s best butcher shops with our culinarily engaged and culturally diverse clientele, I really have to up my offal game. So, I am returning to Fegato alla Veneziana as a gateway into organ meats.    

Fegato alla Veneziana is usually made with veal liver which has a milder flavour than beef liver. Peter and Brian have been striving for years to find a reliable source of veal that conforms to our sourcing criteria but that supplier remains elusive. What to do? Option 1) Mellow the strong flavours in beef liver by soaking it in milk. Option 2) (as suggested by Peter), substitute the milder flavoured chicken or duck livers. Option 3) Embrace the full livery flavour of beef liver, as many of our customers do. 

This recipe is further Sanagan-ized by the use of Giusti White Label Balsamic Vinegar from our new selection of fine imported ingredients. 

In keeping with the version I enjoyed in Venice, I served the following with simple polenta. 

photo by Graham Duncan

Fegato alla Veneziana 

Serves 2-3

Ingredients

1 lb                         liver: calf, beef, chicken or duck. Beef liver may be soaked on the day of, or overnight, in milk. Dry the liver of excess milk before slicing.
6                             tbsp olive oil, divided
4                             small yellow onions, peeled
1                             bay leaf
1 ½                         tbsp balsamic vinegar 
3                             tbsp butter
3                             tbsp chopped parsley
To taste                  salt and pepper

Method

1. If using calf or beef liver, cut into 1/2” thick strips, ensuring that the liver is free of membrane and veins. Sanagan’s beef liver has the membrane removed by our butchers. If using poultry liver, leave whole. 
2. Slice onions into thin rounds.
3. Heat 4 tbsp of olive oil over medium-low heat in a large frying pan. Here is a rare instance where a non-stick frying pan may be favourable due to liver’s propensity to scorch on a steel pan. 
4. Add onions and bay leaf and sweat until the onions are soft and golden brown.   
5. Add vinegar, stir well, and season to taste. Set onions aside.
6. Return pan to the stove. Set to medium-high heat and add remaining 2 tbsp of olive oil. Working in batches so as not to crowd the pan, sear the liver for one or two minutes until golden brown on both sides. You want the liver lightly seared on the outside while maintaining a touch of pink on the inside. 
7. When all the liver’s cooked, turn the heat down to low, return the onions to the pan, and mix with the liver. Check seasoning. Gently stir until the onions are reheated, approximately two minutes. Set aside on a platter and keep warm.
8. Deglaze pan with 3 tbsp of butter, and add parsley.
9. Plate the liver and onions. Drizzle parsley butter over each serving.  

By: Graham Duncan

Not long ago my wife and I shared a Sanagan’s cote de boeuf. We were on our own at an 100-year-old cottage in Muskoka. There was red wine, there was salad and there was that majestic slab of 50-day dry aged rib steak. It was an absolutely simple and memorable dinner, as a meal can be when it features ingredients of the highest standard. 

So the question is, what makes dry aged beef such a significant culinary experience? 

Dry aging has been part of carnivorism for as long as humans have understood that changes occur to an animal’s flesh after it dies, the most obvious example being rigor mortis. For centuries beef and game have benefitted from various forms of controlled aging. While modern processing techniques sidestepped the procedure, nothing can replicate the flavours and textures resulting from the painstaking tradition of professionally dry aged beef. 

Sanagan’s dry aging fridge is a funky place indeed. In this low temperature, moderate humidity environment sub primals (bulk cuts) of bone-in rib and strip loin sections bide their time, slowly growing crusty exteriors that will later be trimmed away. During this period our friends, the enzymes go to work . 

Enzymes are molecules that accelerate chemical reactions in cells. With beef, enzyme actions enhance flavour by converting: proteins into savoury amino acids; glycogen into sweet glucose; and fat and fat-like membranes into aromatic fatty acids. At the same time, they’re working their magic on tenderness too, breaking down collagen fibres.  

But what age is the perfect age? 28-days is the steakhouse standard (or that’s when your steak turns into a zombie). Some establishments probe the outer reaches of aging with 120-day-old rib steaks, all gnarled up like Yoda. Assistant head butcher Christopher Spencer, who’s been overseeing the Sanagan’s dry aging program since 2018 explains our process:  “We experimented; just a lot of testing. Anything more than 60 to 70 days gets very cheesy. We found that 40 to 50 days achieves a good balance of accessible aged flavour”. 

And just what is that aged flavour? I think the only way to describe it is steak-ier. Those elements of savoury juicy succulence that makes your mouth water when you think of a steak are all refined in a dry age steak. There’s oxidized fat lending aromatic depth, all the gelatinized protein (enzymes!) creating that melt-in-your-mouth thing, the absolutely indescribable flavours of age; you know like wine, like cheese. If you’re familiar with the concept of umami, that gives you an idea. But really, words don’t do the trick. You’ve got to try it for yourself. But you’ll have to find your own cottage. 

Lamb shoulder is a delicious treat, and generally needs to be slowly cooked for a few fours in a bit of liquid to tenderize the meat. In this recipe, I simply use water and let the marinade season the lamb, then use the cooking broth to poach potatoes and onion to serve alongside the lamb. Put some tzatziki, pita bread, and a fresh Greek salad on the side, and you’re all set for a fantastic Sunday meal.

Note: The souvlaki marinade goes great on kebabs, obviously, but also works as a marinade for whole chickens, pork shoulders, etc. Store in the fridge for up to a month.

Serves 10

Ingredients

1                          lamb shoulder, bone in, trimmed of excess fat and elastic-like back strap (alternately, you can use a boneless lamb shoulder)
4 tbsp                   souvlaki marinade (see recipe below)
6                           Yukon gold potatoes, peeled and cut into ¾” thick rounds
2                           sweet onions, peeled and sliced into ¾” thick rounds
2 tbsp                   fresh mint, roughly chopped
2 tbsp                   fresh Italian parsley, roughly chopped

Method

1. Score the lamb shoulder in a crosshatch pattern at 2” intervals. Rub the marinade all over the lamb, pressing in to get into the depths of the scored meat. Cover and refrigerate for at least overnight, but up to three days.
2. Preheat the oven to 325°F.
3. Place the lamb in a deep roasting pan, and fill the pan ½ way with hot water. Cover the roast with tin foil and place in oven to cook for 3 hours, or until the meat pulls easily away from the bone. Take the roast out of the pan and rest, covered with a tea towel to keep warm.
4. Pour the roasting juices into a pot. Add the potatoes and onion, and top up with hot water to just cover the potatoes. Bring to a simmer over a medium heat and cook until the potatoes are just tender, about 30 minutes.
5. Meanwhile, using a pair of tongs or a fork, pull the lamb meat away from the shoulder bones. Give the meat a very rough chop (you want the meat to be serving-size).
6. Using a slotted spoon, remove the potatoes and onions and place in a serving bowl. Add the lamb meat to the pot with the broth, toss in the herbs, and stir well. Bring to a light simmer over a medium heat, then place in a serving bowl next to the potatoes. Serve immediately.

Souvlaki Marinade         

Makes about 300 ml

Ingredients       

4 tbsp                   salt        
1 tbsp                   ground black pepper     
1.5 tbsp                dried oregano  
6 tbsp                   lemon juice        
4 tbsp                   garlic cloves, peeled and chopped finely
2 tbsp                   hot mustard      
1 cup                    olive oil
2 tsp                     paprika

Method

1. Blend all ingredients together and store in the refrigerator for up to a month.

This is normally a time of year when parents are getting kids back to school, and dinner has to get to the table quickly and efficiently. This is definitely a strange year, but the idea of a quick and easy dinner is still very appealing to most people. And this one is a fantastic recipe to use up leftover corn. Ontario corn harvested in August and September is some of the sweetest in the world, and if you’re like me you eat it two or three times per week. Inevitably I’m left with a few ears in my fridge. This recipe takes care of those lickity-split!

Serves 4

Ingredients

6                           chicken legs, whole
2 tbsp                   all purpose seasoning (you can use any brand you prefer; I’m partial to the Butcher’s Seasoning from Cured Smokehouse in Prince Edward County)
2 tbsp                   olive oil
3 ears                   corn, shucked and boiled to cook through, then chilled
1 tbsp                   butter
1 tsp                     smoked paprika
To taste                salt and pepper
1 tbsp                   chives

Method

1. Preheat your oven to 450°F.
2. In a work bowl, season the chicken legs with the all-purpose seasoning and rub in the olive oil. Lay the chicken legs on a parchment paper-lined baking tray, skin side up, and roast in the oven for 30 minutes, or until the skin is golden brown and an internal thermometer plunged into the meatiest part of the leg reads 165°F.
3. Meanwhile, make the corn. Use a knife to carefully cut swaths of the kernels of cooked and chilled corn away from the cob. In a large sauté pan over medium heat, melt the butter. Add the corn and stir well to break up the kernels. Season with the smoked paprika and salt and pepper, stirring well so the paprika emulsifies with the butter. Warm the corn through, then mix in the chives.
4. Remove the chicken from the oven and serve immediately with the corn.

by: Graham Duncan

Did you know that at one point, Peter was thinking of changing the name of the business to Sanagan’s Meat, Charcuterie, Prepared Foods, Sauces, Pickles, Rubs, Mustards, Produce, Gelato, Dairy, etc. Locker? Wouldn’t fit on the sign though. But we’re definitely more than meat. We’re happy to share our shelves with local food entrepreneurs who produce fantastic Ontario-made goodies.

One of those people is Christine Manning of Manning Canning. Her story is indicative of the food community we work with. After a successful career in marketing, Christine’s hobby of making preserves became her second act, an undertaking that not only encompasses producing and marketing prizewinning preserves and pickles but the creation of a full-service rental kitchen supporting numerous other independent eat-trepreneurs.

“We believe a rising tide lifts all boats”, says Christine. “There was no rental kitchen when I started out. I thought an affordable space would help others. Everyone thinks a food business is a low barrier start up but a commercial kitchen is expensive.”

“We’ve always competed on taste. We only make products based on seasonal availability, like the green beans. We only make them when we can get them fresh from the fields. We actually process our fresh plum tomatoes, they don’t come in a bucket.” How serious are they about fresh ingredients? Imagine having your marmalade win a gold medal at the World’s Original Marmalade Awards and then you decide, because you can’t guarantee a reliable, affordable supply of quality Seville oranges, that you would stop making your Gold Medal Marmalade. Manning Canning does not compromise.

That’s why Sanagan’s entrusts the production of our Giardiniera and Pickled Red Onions to Christine and Company.

Here’s a full list of our Sanagan’s/Manning Canning product line.

Sanagan’s Giardiniera

Charcuterie boards of the world unite; Sanagan’s Giardiniera, an Italianate mix of pickled peppers and veggies packed in oil and vinegar is here to help. And beyond. Salads, sandwiches, pizza — the zesty possibilities are endless.   

Sanagan’s Pickled Red Onions

You just won’t know how versatile these babies are until you have them in your fridge. Case in point — last night’s doggy bag of perogies. I threw some pickled onions on that bland plate of leftovers and—Hey Now—those perogies were energized!  Ditto, burgers, cheese plates, meat pies—need I go on?

Manning Canning Spicy Pickled Carrots

M.C.’s all-time bestseller. Spicy, crunchy, zippy. Don’t even think of mixing up a Bloody Caesar without them. Perfect in potato or tuna salad. And I bet they’d be awesome along with baked beans.

Manning Canning Spicy Pickled Green Beans

Old-school steak houses often lay out a tray of pickles at the start of a meal as appetite stimulators. Carry on that tradition at home with M.C.’s green beans before you serve one of our beautiful steaks.

Manning Canning Angry Pickled Garlic

Not only can you enjoy the pickled garlic but save the brine for use in a vinaigrette or make your dirty martini an angry martini. Or re-brine something else and reawaken all that garlicky goodness.

Manning Canning Tomato Mustard

Remember those fresh plum tomatoes? They’re here in spades. The apple cider-soaked mustard seeds pop with flavour. Great in dressings or on burgers. Also a fantastic marinade for pork.

Our chef Anne has a family cottage near Sudbury. Every year she goes for her holidays and upon returning we talk about the unique Sudbury porchetta (or “porketta”, as it’s spelled in that city). Unlike the flavouring of fennel that I’m used to, Sudburians favour a heavy hand of dill with garlic and black pepper.  Based on conversations I’ve had with Anne, I believe this recipe could be a legitimate version of a Sudbury porketta, made exclusively with pork belly. I like to serve this with plenty of lemon wedges and Italian chili sauce (bomba).

Serves 6

Ingredients

3 lbs           pork belly, skin on, butterflied in half so the meat opens like a book
1 bunch      fresh dill, chopped
8                 garlic cloves, minced
2 tbsp         cracked black pepper
2 tbsp         salt
½ cup         apple cider vinegar
½ cup         olive oil, plus 1 tbsp for cooking

Method

1. Lay the pork belly on your cutting board, with the butterflied flap open. Using a sharp knife, lightly score the meat in a crosshatch pattern (this will allow the marinade to penetrate well). Turn the belly over so the skin side is up, and score the skin in a straight line at 1-inch intervals (this will allow for easier carving once the roast is cooked).
2. Mix the chopped dill, garlic, pepper, salt, vinegar and oil together in a work bowl. Flip the belly over again (so the skin side is down), and massage the marinade into the butterflied meat. Open the flap of meat to make sure the marinade gets in between the layers, then roll the meat up into a cannon shape. Using strong cotton twine, tie the roast at 1-inch intervals. Place the roast in a bowl, cover with plastic wrap, and refrigerate for at least 24 hours, and up to 48 hours.
3. Preheat the oven to 450°F.
4. Take the roast out of the fridge and place, skin side up, on an elevated rack in a roasting pan. Drizzle a tbsp of olive oil over the skin, and sprinkle the skin with salt. Place the roast in the oven and roast for 25 minutes. Turn the oven down to 300°F (with the roast still inside) and continue cooking for an additional 2 to 2.5 hours, or until an internal thermometer stuck into the center of the roast reads 160°F. The skin should be crackled from the initial blast of heat, but if you want it to be a bit crispier by all means send it under a high broiler for a minute or so to achieve the desired crackle. Remove the roast from the oven and rest for 20 minutes before carving and serving.

Cacciatore is loosely translated as “hunter’s stew”, and is commonly made with chicken, although rabbit is often prepared in this way as well. In Italy, where the dish originated, cacciatore is made differently depending on the region. Some recipes call for peppers, some call for mushroom, some call for white wine. Almost all call for a base of onion, garlic, and tomato. In this version, I included a mild Italian sausage, and accentuated the fennel flavour by using fennel pollen, the extremely flavourful dried spice hand collected from the wild fennel plant. I highly recommend you sourcing fennel pollen; its flavour is unreal and packs a super punch in a small amount. However, if you can’t get your hands on fennel pollen, you can use ground fennel seed and double the volume.

Note: The recipe calls for a whole rabbit cut into six pieces. Ask your butcher to do this for you, as the job is best accomplished with a large cleaver.

Serves 4 to 6

Ingredients

3                          sweet bell peppers
2 tbsp                  olive oil
1                          whole rabbit, cut into six pieces (legs, saddle, and shoulder)
3                          mild Italian sausage
1                          sweet onion, sliced
3                          cloves garlic, minced
2                          carrots, peeled and finely sliced
1 cup                    red wine
½ tsp                    fennel pollen
2 tbsp                   capers
1 tin (400 gr)        whole peeled tomatoes, chopped
2 tbsp                   Italian parsley, chopped
to taste                 salt and pepper

Method

1. Roast the peppers to peel them. You can do this in a variety of ways. If you have a gas stove, you can roast the peppers directly over an open flame until they are black and charred. Alternatively, you can roast them on a tray in a hot oven, turning until all the sides are well cooked. When charred, place the peppers in a bowl and cover with plastic wrap to allow the peppers to steam. Let sit for an hour or until they are cool enough to handle. Rub the skin off the peppers (do not run them under water), and carefully pull the core and the seeds out with the stem. Remove as much of the seeds as possible, then slice the roasted peppers into 1-inch strips.
2. Preheat the oven to 350°F.
3. In a large skillet over a medium heat, heat the olive oil. Season the rabbit pieces with salt and pepper, then place the pieces one by one in the pan to brown. Do not overcrowd the pan as that could cause the meat to steam. Turn the meat over to brown on both sides before removing and setting aside. Continue until all the rabbit is golden, then brown the sausages in the same pan. Once browned, set the sausage aside as well.
4. Add the onions, garlic, and carrots to the same pan and cook for ten minutes, or until softened. Deglaze with the red wine and reduce by half. Add the fennel pollen, roasted peppers, capers, and chopped tomatoes, and stir well to combine. Season with salt and pepper. Add the rabbit and sausage back to the pan to snuggle into the vegetables, then add just enough water to cover the meat. Cover the pan with a lid and place in the oven to cook for 45 to 60 minutes, or until the rabbit meat is starting to fall away from the bone.
5. Remove from oven and taste for seasoning, adjusting if necessary. Serve with soft polenta or pasta on the side.

Before Drake proclaimed that we all live in The Six, Toronto’s original alias was Hogtown. A number versus a pig; The Big Apple we ain’t. But we sure used to slaughter a lot of pigs.  

Sanagan’s currently carries pork from three Southern Ontario family farms. Like all Sanagan’s suppliers, our pork farmers value small scale, humane animal husbandry. The pigs are processed at low volume facilities located near the farms. By contrast the abattoirs that inspired the name Hogtown were anything but small scale. So, while Sanagan’s embraces a different approach to the life and death of the pig, we’re proud to be selling great pork in Hogtown and thought you might be interested to know how the name came to be. 

Sanagan’s heritage pork raised on Murray’s Farm 

If the name Hogtown can be attributed to one person, it would be William Davies whose ascent from a single St. Lawrence Market stall in the 1850’s to the establishment of Canada Packers (now Maple Leaf Foods) firmly implanted the pig’s footprint on Toronto’s identity. Along the way the William Davies Corporation became the largest supplier of bacon to England, shipping out of North America’s second largest pork processing plant, located in the Don Valley at Front Street. Davies is credited with popularizing peameal bacon, making him the Godfather of Toronto’s signature sandwich. Eventually the animal world tired of Mr. Davies attentions. He died as a result of injuries suffered after being butted by a goat. 

It’s not difficult to witness a herd mentality at Keele and St. Clair as shoppers descend upon Home Depot and Canadian Tire, but this area used to support actual herds of cattle, pork, and horses. The Stockyards, a 300-acre network of rail sidings, loading platforms, stock pens, and processors, including Maple Leaf and Swifts, was once North America’s largest livestock facility. The fortunes of the Stockyards rose and fell with the railroad. By the time trucking eclipsed rail as the most efficient form of livestock transport, and combined with the pressures of Toronto’s ravenous real estate market, the demise of the Stockyards was inevitable. The majority of processors moved from Toronto to Cookstown in 1994 but not after doing its share to consolidate our nickname as Hogtown.

Toronto Stockyards

Up until its closure in 2014, for many Torontonians the name Hogtown was embodied by Quality Meat Packers on Tecumseth Street near Fort York. Even if you never saw the abattoir there’s a good chance you saw the trucks, loaded with pigs, driving towards it. I remember working at Fort York in my early 20’s. You either got the industrial beer smell of the Molson’s brewery or the raunchy not quite bacon smell of Quality Meats. Grimly, it felt historically accurate. There had been a packing plant on the site since 1914 in the form of the Toronto Municipal Slaughterhouse. This facility was bought in 1960 by Quality Meats. At its height, Quality processed one third of Ontario’s pork. While it defied animal rights protests and condo-mania it was eventually brought down by the cruel variables of the free market. The last straw was the piglet-killing virus of 2014. Thankfully for Sanagan’s, and the pigs, our small-scale pork farmers were unaffected by the outbreak. 

The original site of Quality Meat Packers  

Things change. The hogs have left Hogtown. Toronto’s de-industrialization has been rapid. But high quality, locally raised, family-farmed pork will never leave Sanagan’s and Sanagan’s, finger’s crossed, will never leave The Six. 

Graham Duncan

Photos: Graham Duncan and Toronto Archives