[ulterior epicure]

Arriving a bit early for my lunch at Cochon, I ducked into Cochon Butcher, the restaurant's charcuterie and sandwich shop next door, for a look.

Cochon Butcher is small. There are about four high tops and a counter along one wall with stools. There's a modestly sized refrigerated case of house-made products (packaged and ready for sale) and a walk-up cashier station beneath a giant chalkboard menu dominated by meaty selections.

Apparently, Cochon doesn't serve any of Cochon Butcher;s charcuterie. So I talked myself into snacking on a plate of Cochon Butcher's house-made meat products ("Charcuterie" $14).

The charcuterie selection here changes often. Thoughtfully assembled, the meats are garnished with some excellent pickles (more sweet than salty or sour); grainy mustard; fat, marinated green olives; and crispy, thin flatbread flocked with sesame seeds.

My plate consisted of about half a dozen thinly shaved slices of each chorizo and spicy fennel sausages. Both were well-made, though I liked the fennel sausage more. Speckled with pockets of white fat, it had a full, rounded flavor with an aggressive bite.

There were also just as many slices of duck prosciutto, which were cut just a little thicker than the sausages. With a full rind of soft fat, the strips of prosciutto, made from the breast, were much more tender than waxy, though shockingly salty.

The little cup of pork rillette, thick and flavorful, was also good, especially spread on the flatbread with mustard.

To read more and get links to the photos, CLICK HERE.

[Orik]

Sounds nice. The reason why duck prosciutto is often salty is that it's usually made in this country using the wrong method and often the wrong duck. Breast from an unfattened duck is covered with a lot of kosher salt and set in the fridge, with the salt replaced every couple of days. This invariably results in prosciutto that is as salty as guanciale, practically inedible for some of us. The right method calls for breast from a fattened duck, cured briefly in just a tablespoon of fleur de sel (or really any salt about half way between kosher and table salt in grain size) that is later brushed off, and then hanged to cure in a cool dry place for quite a while.