Roskilde Festival

I didn’t know what I was getting into. I first heard about Roskilde festival on my first trek into Denmark. From what I could gather from my Viking friends, it sounded like a pretty wild music festival where people dressed Amish-ish. Roskilde is, in fact, the largest annual music festival in Europe. Over 135,000 people travel to the old capital of Denmark for a week long non-profit festival dedicated to celebrating music, culture, and humanism. It spans over 8,000 acres, so that means an endless sea of tents, people, food, and music.

About a month ago, Michael Museth, owner of Folkets Madhus gave me a call. For the past five years, Folkets Madhus had been a food vendor at Roskilde Festival and this year he was short on volunteers. That's all I needed to hear. Within a week, my Old Gringo boots touched down in Copenhagen.

I didn’t have much time to catch my breath or unpack my backpack – my second day was spent in the kitchen preparing for a separate catering event for 250 people. In between, my good buddy Gustav and I finished prepping everything for the festival: over 100 kilos of minced meat for the famous “He-Man Chili" and another 100 kilos of Danish BBQ.

As far as Danish BBQ, remember, we aren’t in the Lone Star state.

Danish BBQ hanging in the cold smoker.

Danish BBQ is different from traditional Texas BBQ.  Michael and Gustav had started on a test batch before I arrived - beef short ribs were salted with copious amounts of paprika, chili powder, and other spices then cold smoked for days. The final product was slow-cooked in the oven.

Not "Aaron Franklin style"  but surprisingly was pretty damn good.

SUNDAY - DAY 1
Sunday was officially the first day of Roskilde Festival. Campers who numbered in the thousands and had been waiting for days to score the perfect site to pitch their tents were turned loose. Food vendors were given the green-light too, so the Folkets Madhus team moved in our equipment and setup our tents. Gustav and I broke away to the Northern countryside to pickup his "camplet"  which proved to be a lifesaver. Rain was forecasted, and I had heard countless tales of “Roskilde 2007" - the year, Roskilde received over 4 inches of rain, and the festival turned into a mud-bowl. 

One of the many campsites at Roskilde - over 130,00 campers!

MONDAY - TUESDAY
As a volunteer, I was required to work a minimum of 6 hours a day. In return, I was given a free pass to the festival's musical acts.  So everyday after our shift was over, we meandered over to the small stages to catch shows.  I ended up seeing Foo Fighters, Ice Cube, and Justice, and to my surprise, a band called CcSquele. As it turned out, one of Folkets Madhus's own food runners was "secretly" in the band.  

He "forgot to mention it," but he is a pretty big deal. He plays a total of six instruments, and he rocked the drums that night.

One of the smaller stages at Roskilde festival.

WEDNESDAY - Day 4
On Wednesday, the inner circle which included the Orange Stage and the main food court opened. I got into the kitchen for the second shift of the day and was tasked with making an atrocious amount rice and potatoes. Rico held down the other end of the kitchen by making He-Man Chili and doing great impersonations of Salt Bae. That night, the Orange Stage opened up with The Weeknd. 

The main food hall where we were stationed.

The famous "He-Man Chili" of Folkets Madhus.

Clever, huh?

Flæskestegssandwich, a true Danish treat.

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The history buff in me has to break out for a bit: The Orange Stage was originally part of the Rolling Stones 1976 European Tour. At one point, Queen used it until finally, the tent found its way to the Roskilde Festival. Its iconic color and shape have become the festival's logo ever since.

The Orange stage in action.

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This is what it looks like when the Amish Camp meets Game of Thrones Camp. 

By the end of the week, the fairgrounds were pretty muddy.

Tents for days!

Tent tearing down time.

That day, I worked the opening shift and just as I was scheduled to be relieved things got crazy busy and Michael asked me to stay for another shift. There was only one thing to say. This is the guy that has put a roof over my head and food in my mouth. He has done an incalculable amount for my career. Without a second thought, my apron remained on for another shift until festival goers started questioning if I ever left the stand!

Honestly, I didn’t mind.  I was having fun and learning more about this side of the meat business. 

It was a memorable week. We sold a bunch of He-Man Chili and BBQ, listened to some great music, and made memories that I will always keep with me. I am humbled by my Danish friends who allowed me to partake in this cultural experience with them. As always, they are the best of hosts. Check out my short Roskilde Festival video as well!

My Roksilde/Folkets Madhus crew - Thanks for the great festival guys!

Meating Fellow Revolutionaries

This is the second of a three-part series… Catch up by reading Road Trippin’ Across Europe  and Manifesto Origins.

In the beginning, I was just an extra – tagging along with Kate and Dominique.

Man, I was damn lucky. What ended up happening in Copenhagen in the confines of Folkets Madhus on that late August weekend changed not only my life, but potentially butchers across the world.

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We journeyed into the industrial side of Copenhagen on Thursday afternoon. The streets were lined with soccer fields, communal gardens, and countless bicyclists. Nestled between a couple of old warehouses laid our destination: Folkets Madhus.

There we were met with open arms – Michael Museth introduced us to his team and gave us a quick tour around his impressive facility. Folkets Madhus is comprised of:

• a large commercial kitchen,
• a dining hall for catering events,
• a sausage preparation room,
• an incredible teaching kitchen,
• and office space available for rent to similar businesses.

Did I mention the Cold War-era bomb shelter out back? Or the organic garden on top of the bomb shelter?

The Cold War era bomb shelter behind Folkets Madhus.

That night, we had a traditional Danish meal of stegt flæsk med persillesovs  and got acquainted with Hendrik and the Viking contingent of the Butchers' Manifesto.  In case you are wondering what stegt flæsk med persillesovs is, it is fried slices of pork belly with a parsley sauce.

The next day, butchers slowly trickled through the front door. They came from various points in Europe and North America: butchers from Oregon, Canada, London, Amsterdam, Gascony, Poland, Germany, Denmark…. and of course Texas.

Michael welcoming those from close and afar.

Michael constantly made sure we felt comfortable and at home – he even showed us a pork shoulder without a purpose in cold storage.

In a room full of butchers, that pork shoulder didn’t have a chance!

I immediately broke out my knives and removed all the bones.  I scored the skin on the opposite side and Dominique took over from there.  He gave the shoulder some salt and pepper as well as a beer to braise in. Since Michael had casually talked about Texas barbecue earlier in the day – I felt it was a perfect time to break out my great-grandmother's recipe.

Some good Texas BBQ sauce coming to a boil.

While I prepared the sauce, Dominique took a pork tenderloin, covered it in mustard and placed it in the oven. Then he decided it was time for my final test under his supervision: Pâté de Campagne.

Taking the unused scraps and unwanted pieces of meat, along with potatoes, onions, and blanched liver, we made good use of Michael’s commercial kitchen. Two hours later, I had four beautiful terrines of pâté resting, waiting to be appreciated by my new meat friends and connoisseurs.

French pâtés ready to hit the oven.

Not to be outdone, the Danes got busy in the kitchen as well. Gustav, a Danish master butcher the same age as I, prepared Rullepølse – rolled pig belly with sage, tied, put into a mold and boiled.

Gustav going to work on the pork belly

Absolutely amazing flavor!

As the crowd gathered, I shook hands and got to know some of the guys. Who would have thought I would run into a familiar face, but there was John Ratliff, owner of Ends Meat in Brooklyn. I originally met John back in NYC when I was apprenticing at Fleishers. He had given us a tour of his shop where he produces a wide variety of Italian-style charcuterie. He and his shop were one of the driving forces that originally led me to France to learn charcuterie.

The meat world is so small!

John Ratliff of Ends Meat, Brooklyn, NY

That evening, all of the butchers gathered around the large table in Folkets Madhus to officially begin the summit. Michael told his inspirational story and his motivation for the gathering.  One by one, people stood and formally introduced themselves until it was time to “break bread.” After a few beers, Michael suggested we head to bed to rest up for the long day ahead of us. Slowly, the crowd of butchers drifted across the street to an indoor soccer pitch (field), crowded with yellow, single person tents.

It's not the Ritz, it's the Yellow Tents

to be continued...

The Queue for some sweet 'Cue

My first knowledge of Franklin Barbecue came from Daniel Vaughn’s book, “The Prophets of Smoked Meat.” He tells of the ubiquitous three-hour wait as a precondition to savoring the legendary BBQ. Over the next few months, the Franklin Barbecue name kept popping up in conversation, especially once I got up to New York. Many foodies on the East coast had heard the tale of the barbecue megastar that started in a simple trailer in Austin, Texas, yet I lived right down the road and hadn’t heard of it. It’s shameful, I know, but I cut my teeth on classic Texas BBQ at the nearby joints in Lockhart and Luling. Franklin’s just wasn’t on my radar yet.

Yet.

Aaron Franklin’s smoked meat has been drawing crowds since 2009 when he started slinging barbecue goodness out of a trailer. Word spread like wildfire and his brisket became legend – so good in fact that he has sold out EVERY day since he opened his brick and mortar just south of the Texas State Capitol. Daily, there is at least a two-hour wait – no exceptions. Well, unless you’re the President of the United States and in that case, you and your Secret Service agents can cut the line right to the front. For everybody else, including Kanye West, you gotta stand in line and do the time.

I arrived at 9:20 in the morning – late by Franklin’s standard. Luckily, I was meeting up with an old high school buddy who had arrived at 8:30 and had been posted up in line for nearly an hour. I carefully scanned the crowd for Devin and spotted him camped out in two, UT burnt-orange, folding chairs. Devin is a seasoned Franklin Barbecue vet,  hence the two folding chairs, so clutch in a situation where one must wait in line for hours at a time. He even brought his lab, Cinder, to keep us company.

At the back of the line.

We had secured a nice spot, a mere 80 bodies between the door and us. As Devin and I chatted and caught up, the line began to slowly grow until it curled into the street. It was a Tuesday morning, yet there were a solid two hundred people waiting to partake in some of the most notorious barbecue in the country.

The doors finally opened at 11:00 am and the first few customers came spilling out with their arms loaded down with pre-orders. They duly received their fair share of mean looks from those of us praying there was plenty more.   Luckily within another thirty minutes I was finally in the front door.

Well, let me tell you, that, was pure torture of another kind. I could now smell the deliciousness, but it was still out of reach. Another thirty-minute line lay before me, only this time, I was given a front row seat to watch other customers devour inhale their mounds of the legendary Franklin meat.

A look at the line once you make it inside Franklin's.

The menu is on the wall.

Finally when I arrived at the counter, I ordered some of everything.

Yeah, my eyes were bigger than my stomach but heck, I had just waited two hours and I wasn’t going to let something slip by me now.

I sampled a pound of brisket, a half-pound of sausage, and a half-pound of pulled pork. I accompanied this blowout with a side of coleslaw and a serving of potato salad. Devin slipped me one of his ribs for the final round out and after a quick photography session and a prayer, we dug in.

MY OPINION: Franklin Barbecue knocks it out of the park – it lives up to its reputation and all of the hype. Everything on the menu is amazing. The Franklin Brisket probably gets the most notoriety and rightfully so – its damn good. Melt in your mouth – good.

MY SUGGESTION: Don’t be deterred by the long lines and infamous wait, get your tail down to Franklin’s the next chance you get. Just about everyone is enjoying a libation of some sort and the Franklin staff sells a great selection of local Austin beers. My advice is to bring a folding chair, grab one of those Austin Beerworks Fire Eagles, and get to know your neighbors. It was worth the wait.

HERE’S WHAT YOU NEED TO KNOW:

• Bon Appetite, Texas Monthly, and Anthony Bourdain all sing Aaron Franklin’s praises, cause Aaron Franklin is the man.
• Aaron was awarded a James Beard Foundation award for best chef in the Southwest region.
• Located at 900 E. 11th Street, Austin Texas
• Closed on Mondays
• Opens at 11 am and closes when sold out
• Get in line around 8:30 am
• Bring a folding chair, cooler, and a friend or better yet, make a new one in line.
• Pick up a copy of Aaron’s book and if you’re lucky have him sign it.

If you feel I have been living under a rock and have missed another  good place to eat, let me know because I love checking out new eats.

This ‘ol Gal is Smoking Hot

It’s a damn good feeling to be back in the Lone Star state. For the past few weeks, I’ve been at home resting up and sampling some good eats. I’ve gotten more than a few dinner requests from the Family and I’m beginning to think they have forgotten that my time in New York was spent in a meat cooler, not a kitchen.

Whatever. I love to get in the kitchen, throw on some jams, and make something special.

Since I’ve been home, I’ve learned to make tamales and I tied and prepared a huge rib roast for the Family Christmas dinner; however I was craving to experiment with things I had learned in New York. Unfortunately, I lacked a commercial kitchen and shiny appliances like I had access to at Fleishers. That meant I was going to have to find my own and on a broke butcher’s budget. After mapping out my meat quest I figured I would need the following:

• a smoker to practice my brisket making,
• a dehydrator to test my new jerky recipes,
• and a curing chamber for some charcuterie experimentation.

My trip to New York wiped out my bank account, but Santa Claus came through with a couple of Benji’s in my stocking. I just had to decide which one of the three pieces of equipment to invest in. I only had enough cash for one. The other two would have to be put on the back-burner. This was my line of thinking until I stumbled on an old, unclaimed smoker.

At first, I wasn’t sure if the ‘ol gal would work. There were rust holes in the bottom, the grill had come detached, and the pipe stack that once rose from the pit had been severed. Her thermometer had definitely seen better days. Its glass cover was shattered and the needle registered a perpetual 185°.

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All and all, not insurmountable for an old Boy Scout. A quick trip to Walmart for a freestanding oven thermometer and a few twists of wire to get the grill back on, I had the ‘ol gal back on her feet. Now to give her a test run.

On the actual brisket, I figured I couldn’t go wrong. Chef Jason and I had thrown one in the electric smoker in New York and it turned out awesome – no work and great meat with an amazing bark. Since my smoker didn’t exactly stack up to that commercial one, I would have to keep a careful watch over this brisket the entire time it cooked. The main chamber temperature needed to hover around 225° and stay as smoke-filled as possible.

Pulling an all-nighter would require some help. Luckily, the fridge was stocked with Shiner Bock and my brother was home for Christmas break.   He willingly volunteered as soon as I uttered the word “fire.”

We’ve been pyro-maniacs since birth.

The new recruit and I made our way to the local meat market where we commandeered an 15lb. USDA select brisket. Yeah, it wasn’t the 100% grass-fed brisket I was use to working with in New York, but it would do.

After a good thirty minutes of hand-grinding seasonings, I laid down a heavy coat of salt and pepper over the meat.

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In the meantime, Sam had started a fire in the smoke chamber and once he had a good bed of coals and the oven thermometer read 225°, we placed the brisket in the main chamber.

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Pit masters apply wood chips to create a large amount of smoke without all the heat of a large fire. I applied hickory wood chips every 10-15 minutes throughout the night.

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The next morning, the meat thermometer read 190° when I placed it into the center of the brisket. I pulled the brisket from the hand-me-down smoker and let it set.

The ‘ol gal had done good. The bark was thick, dark and glistening. The smoke ring was a lovely ombre red.

After 30 minutes of resting, I sliced and shared.

Sweet victory!

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Feedback:

1. Aunt Hedy thought it was a bit peppery. It might have been from all the fresh cracked pepper I used.
2. Mom thought the meat could have been more tender, but the flavor was spot on.
3. Note to self: ALWAYS invest in good meat. If you want a great end product, you have to use great ingredients.