Ómós Digest #15: Mortadella vs Billy Roll: Battle of the Bologna.
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Welcome to the Ómós Digest. This newsletter will hopefully bring you on that journey about the food you were looking for, or perhaps never knew existed. It is our quest to expand on what we don’t know and to share with those who care. If you haven’t read Newsletter #1 yet, it can be found here. This newsletter is brought to you by Cúán Greene, Founder of Ómós.
There was always something magical about Sunday mornings in Copenhagen. It must be said that following a gruelling workweek at Noma, on most of these mornings I awoke bleary-eyed, hungry, and ready to explore the city. An obligatory coffee at Coffee Collective, followed by a pastry from one of Copenhagen’s nearby bakeries was the perfect recipe for reviving the senses. My weekends were always a discovery of food; my meandering invariably dictated by the next meal. But I was not alone. Accompanied by an improbable bunch of young international chefs and waiters, all connected by a love for food and hospitality, we would cycle the city in search of our next bite.
When it comes to bakeries in Copenhagen, you really are spoilt for choice.
At the time, Juno made the best cardamom buns. Andersen & Maillard produced the best viennoiseries, specifically their Kouign Amann: an underrated Norman pastry containing laminated layers of butter and sugar. When in the mood for something more traditional, the Danish Kanelsnegle (cinnamon rolls) or a Tebirkes at Brød bakery filled the void. The latter being a laminated pastry filled with frangipane and topped with a layer of poppy seeds.
“Tebirkes” is to Denmark, what the croissant is to France – a trademark and an old, beloved tradition.
But despite having a sweet tooth, the ultimate way to start the day was with a Morgenbolle med ost (a savoury morning bun with cheese) at Restaurant 108. In fact, the breakfast sandwich couldn't have been further from the breakfast roll I grew up with as a child. Gone were the deli pork sausages and bacon, the factory baguette, congealed egg and obligatory ‘red sauce’ (ketchup). Instead you were presented with the most delectable sourdough bun, its crust baked dark, with an encrusted base of toasted pumpkin seeds. When cut open, the rolls revealed a multitude of air pockets, perfect for smothering in whatever you fancied. Typically though, the bread was filled with thick slices of crystallised Danish cheese and although usually served with butter, 108 served theirs with a lightly salted whipped cream - bring me back NOW! But this wasn’t the only sandwich that got people talking.
Love at first slice
My first true introduction to mortadella was on one of these mornings. For those unfamiliar with mortadella, it’s a variety of steamed sausage, typical of northern Italy, served at ambient temperature and sliced into face-sized, wafer thin slices. The sausage is made using a blend of pork and fat, and a mixture of spices, often with pistachios studded throughout. Today, trendy Neapolitan pizzerias layer slices of mortadella over piping hot pizzas, allowing the natural fat in the pork to meld with the pizza toppings. Occasionally fresh truffles are added to the mortadella mix, making the salami, comp-let-ely irresistible.
During a particularly cold week, news swept around town that Hart Bageri, led by Richard Hart, former Head Baker of the iconic Tartine Bakery in San Francisco, was serving a one-off special of mortadella on freshly baked ciabatta. Seemingly, the mortadella had been sent to Copenhagen by the legendary Massimo Bottura, a jovial and excitable character and one of Italy’s most celebrated chefs. At the time, we were using his 15 year old balsamic vinegar from Modena at the restaurant (which was more like a syrup), drizzled over a salted plum kernel ice cream, wrapped in a koji inoculated pancake. Believe me, it was heavenly. Having tasted the vinegar, I was in no doubt that this mortadella was going to be worth making a special journey for, and so, with my dysfunctional, marauding, food-obsessed troop, we assembled outside a packed bakery on that Sunday morning. A handful of our colleagues were Italian, and when not complaining about the cold, they were talking about Italian food. All week, I saw them salivating over updates about this sausage sandwich, engrossed by the idea of a traditional home comfort and their childhood panino (another far cry from any jumbo breakfast roll I had known).
I’ll never forget sinking my teeth into it: the Ham Sanger of all ham sandwiches. The warm, crispy loaves fresh from the oven were laced with good Danish butter and wafer thin layers of mortadella. Due to its high fat content, and the generous smear of salted buttery deliciousness, the sandwich was seriously indulgent and intensely satisfying. Crispy bread, butter oozing down our chins and aromatic mouthfuls of sliced meat - sheer joy.
Unfortunately in Ireland and similarly to Denmark, our understanding of quality pork is not of the highest standard, which is why one might associate glorious creations like mortadella with the monstrosity that is, the Billy Roll. With this view in mind, I wasn't surprised when I read the following statement on Twitter:
‘’Mortadella is just Billy Roll for people who go on prosecco picnics.’’
While I do love a picnic, and can’t think of anything better than a boozy al fresco lunch, I questioned the legitimacy of this statement. Having experienced such a defining gastronomical moment in eating the Hart x Massimo panino, I was fairly optimistic that the glorious mortadella I had grown so fond of, had little to do with the mystery meat that adorned the lunch boxes of many Irish children.
The not-so-funny meat clown
Billy Roll, otherwise known as ‘meat clown’ or ‘Billy the smiling sausage’, is processed meat like mortadella, steamed and sliced, typically served as bologna in sandwiches. However, this is where the comparison ends. While Billy Roll was first produced in Germany by the Feldhues Group, due to the sheer quantity sold in Ireland, a factory was later opened in Co. Monaghan in Ireland. Visit the Feldhues website and prepare for a slightly uneasy experience, filled with illustrations of what they call ‘cooked character meats’ and odd terminology not usually associated with food, like ‘inventors’. There’s no mention anywhere on the site of where the pork originates from or what kind of pork is used. And I don’t know about you, but I typically prefer my pork-based products to contain more than 66% pork. In saying that, the website declares that, “Our cooked character meats for children offer a vast range of advantages”. I wonder what those could be…
Since 1998, mortadella has received protected status by the European Union, which granted the ‘Mortadella di Bologna’ the Protected Geographical Indication. I happened upon a video featuring the skilful craft of mortadella production made by venerable artisans of Bologna that couldn't be further from the factory-produced Irish counterpart.
Personally, I was never the child with the popular lunches. Despite pleading with my mother to purchase the Billy Roll, the thought of “ham” that smiles back at you now seems a little terrifying. And when it comes to dining al fresco, perhaps those who pair prosecco with mortadella are in the know. After all, what grows together, goes together.
I hope this newsletter has solidified your understanding that not all bologna is boloney! Take a handful of good quality ingredients, add a good measure of knowledge, equal parts of pride and tradition, and what you get is a worthy option for your next sandwich. It is in moments like these, I feel thankful that I stumbled across such a Tweet, realising that occasionally, all it takes is a touch of creativity to make the most of SPAM!
Great reading
Might have to revisit Mortadella next time I’m in Italy!!