My Old Friend Le Saucisson

And Other Meat Acquaintances of Southern France

Every time I’m in France, I am reunited with a salty, wrinkly, old dog, le saucisson sec.

No, I’m not talking about the guy in the photo. I’m talking about all the delicious meat treats in the baskets

below him.

Saucisson sec translates literally to dry sausage. Although, Americans would probably call it by the Italian word, salami. This French staple is most often made with coarsely ground pork, but if you look closely, you can sometimes find the wild sanglier (boar) or taureau (beef) varieties. The French prefer to use the leaner and tougher cuts of pork—like leg or shank meat—and then make up the rest with fat back or belly fat. 

In the north, saucisson ingredients are straight to the point, salt, pepper and wine; simple, unadulterated, allowing the quality of meat to stand on its own. However, once you get to the South of France, all bets are off. Whether at the ubiquitous market day stall (Saturdays in Aix en Provence) or the more Walmart-like Carrefour hypermarche, there are almost as many saucisson flavors and ingredients as there are cheeses. I’ve seen saucisson with hazelnuts, walnuts, pine nuts, figs, olives, mushrooms, fennel seed, any number of local cheeses, raisins, dates, and of course, Herbes de Provence. No matter how it’s seasoned, saucisson is always piped into a natural hog casing seldom thicker than your thumb.

Unlike most American meat sticks, this salami is fermented, which gives the saucisson a snowy, tacky exterior, yeasty aroma, and supple chew. The special ingredient is abundant and free, Latilactobacillus sakei. This bacteria either finds its way into the meat naturally and starts its work from the outside of the casing, or sometimes it is folded into the meat directly in more sterile or newer meat curing environs. 

It is then customarily hung from the ceiling at the local butcher shop, and dried to desired texture. The longer they hang, the drier they become. A truly superior saucisson sec will slice perfectly no matter the moisture.

Nothing gives me greater joy than slicing off a few slivers of saucisson, adding a piece of fresh chevre goat cheese, and mashing it all between a couple of hunks of crusty baguette for a rustic picnic sandwich. Wash that down with a glass of Domaine Camaissette or up and comer Chateau Paradis rosé, and you’ve just experienced the perfect Provençal afternoon.

Despite several years of owning butcher shops and decades of exploring the charcuterie of the world, I’ve never successfully replicated the same yeasty bouquet or meaty chew of this perfectly seasoned salami that is France’s most delicious meat snack. Could it be the unique taste of French pork? Some secret unspoken technique of the salumiére? Or maybe the terroir that makes the wines here so grand? Who knows? But now that things have slowed down a bit for me, maybe it is time to hang some saucisson sec in the garage. I’ll have to wait until this fall, but why not! Restez à l’écoute!

Here are a few other delicious meat secrets of Southern France.