I would never have discovered Troyes, a beautiful medieval town of
timber-framed buildings, were it not for a pale, lumpy sausage made from
pigs%26rsquo; intestines that smells like a pissoir.
To historians, Troyes may be the ancient capital of Champagne, but to food
lovers, it is the spiritual home of the andouillette. The champagne
cork-shaped town in the department of Aube has been linked with the
mal-odorous sausage since the year 877, when Louis II was crowned King of
France in Troyes cathedral and the whole town feasted on andouillettes in
celebration.
By 1475, the town%26rsquo;s charcutiers had formed guilds devoted to preserving their
craft, and the fame of the andouillette grew. Everyone who passed through
Troyes, from Louis XIV in 1650 to Emperor Napoleon I in 1805, stopped for a
tasting. There is even a fan club, formalised in 1976 by a group of
andouillette lovers and food critics to protect its standards and preserve
its status. Known as the Association amicale des amateurs d%26rsquo;andouillette
authentique, the %26ldquo;Five A%26rsquo;s%26rdquo; has become a symbol of excellence, found on the
menus of the most discriminating bistros throughout France.
Outside France, not everyone is a fan. Even the fearless Hugh
Fearnley-Whittingstall of River Cottage calls it %26ldquo;challenging%26rdquo;. %26ldquo;I can%26rsquo;t
stand andouillette,%26rdquo; says one well-travelled friend when she hears of my
pilgrimage to Troyes. %26ldquo;It really, genuinely, stinks.%26rdquo; Yes, it does. To eat
it, your eyes, hands and mouth must override your brain, which sends out
frantic signals and alarm bells. But if you can triumph over your nose, then
your palate will be amazed at the milky, nutty, sweet and savoury complexity
of this king of sausages.
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