Sausage Recipes

Luganega Sausage with Farro & Porcini

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Luganega sausage served with farro, roasted porcini mushrooms and tarragon in a rustic Italian autumn dish.

Luganega sausage takes its name from Lucania, the ancient region now known as Basilicata, though it has long since made its way north. This Luganega sausage recipe, seasoned with the earthy richness of porcini mushrooms, is ideal for autumn.

At Bocca di Lupo, we tend to serve Luganega sausage with a stew of farro (emmer, similar to spelt) and roasted fresh porcini mushrooms, finished with a little tarragon.

The sausage has a wonderful depth and an unmistakably autumnal complexion, making it delicious in so many dishes. Whilst the sausage is enjoyed across Italy, it’s particularly celebrated in the Veneto region. The farro, simmered to maintain a slight bite, and the combination of fresh porcini and tarragon, create the perfect foil for this rustic sausage.

This recipe is by Jacob Kenedy, written exclusively for Swaledale Butchers to showcase our collaboration on the Luganega Sausage.

Serves: 4

Prep time: 27 minutes

Cook time: 30 minutes

Ingredients

Method

For the Sausage

  1. Remove the Luganega sausage from its packaging and pat it dry with kitchen paper.
  2. To cook the sausage, heat a barbecue, griddle pan, or cast-iron frying pan until medium-hot. Grill or sauté the sausage for approximately 3–4 minutes on each side, until nicely browned and cooked through. Time the cooking of the sausage so it finishes alongside the farro and porcini.

For the Farro and Porcini

  1. Give the farro a good rinse under cold running water, then drain and transfer to a saucepan. Add the carrot, onion, and bay leaf, along with enough cold water to cover the farro by about an inch.
  2. Place the saucepan over high heat and bring to the boil. Once boiling, reduce the heat to a simmer, skimming off any foam that rises to the surface. Cook the farro for 25–30 minutes, until nearly tender but still slightly too firm to eat. Season with salt to taste, then drain the farro, reserving the cooking liquid. Remove and discard the onion, carrot, and bay leaf.
  3. Meanwhile, chop the porcini into roughly 1cm chunks. Heat a wide, heavy-based frying pan over high heat, then add the oil and half of the butter. Add the porcini, season generously with salt and pepper, and sauté until golden brown on all sides.
  4. Add the garlic and let it begin to sizzle before pouring in about 100ml of the reserved farro cooking liquid, followed by the drained farro. Lower the heat and cook for 5–10 minutes, allowing the farro to soften without becoming mushy, and letting the liquid absorb. If the farro is still too firm, simply add more cooking liquid and continue cooking.
  5. Once ready, remove the pan from the heat, stir in the remaining butter and tarragon, and mix vigorously. Adjust the seasoning with salt and pepper, then serve alongside the sausage.

Order meat online

The Italian phrase Bocca al lupo means “into the wolf’s mouth”, and is commonly used to wish somebody good luck. Luck is not something chef and restaurateur Jacob Kenedy needs much of. After a stint at Moro in London, a fabulous North African and Spanish tapas restaurant, and a wonderful opportunity at the acclaimed Boulevard in San Francisco, Jacob emerged as an accomplished, creative and entrepreneurial chef.

Jacob’s fascination with Italian cuisine led to his 2008 partnership with Victor Hugo, and the launch of Bocca di Lupo onto the London food scene, which it took by storm. It has a touch of glamour, but is a family business and a simple trattoria at its core. Guests can bring their dogs, perch at the counter, and feast on a range of beautiful small plates. This is humble, rustic, provincial Italian fare at its best. Jacob has created one of the finest restaurants in London: an honest dining experience, and a feast for the senses.

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  • March sits between seasons. Winter has not quite loosened its grip, and there is still time, and need, for fortifying pleasures. A bowl of chicken broth is one of them. It begins with a proper chicken stock. Just bones and time in the pot, slowly giving up their flavour until the liquid runs clear and deeply savoury. If you watched our earlier film on how to break down a whole chicken, this is where the rest of it finds its purpose. From there the broth is built. Pearl barley for substance. Cavolo nero and turnips for the season. Simple things, allowed to do their work in good stock. Just before serving, a small splash of oloroso lifts the whole bowl.
  • British Pie Week, apparently. We do not usually pay much attention to themed food weeks. We prefer to make and sell things when they feel right. This year is different, thanks to our growing friendship with Yorkshire chef and pie obsessive Josh Whitehead, and his excellent pie project, Finer Pleasures. Josh started @finer_pleasures in 2023 to make pies the way they should be made. Proper fillings, local meat and traditional methods. So we thought we would join in. The pie is a classic. Chicken, ham, leek and mushroom. Brined chicken, smoked ham hock and a rich velouté finished with herbs, mustard and chestnut mushrooms or leeks. A proper pie. Available this week while they last.
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  • Kindred spirits. Hot pans. Spiced mutton. Swaledale x Canton Arms supper. Wednesday 25 February. To book email Thecantonarms@gmail.com @cantonarms
  • Winter and its cold hands have us fully in a tight embrace right now. And so we find ourselves cooking more often than not, to warm our souls. A ham at the weekend is one such thing that does the job. It can be used for all kinds of dishes and provide your weekdays with a plethora of fine sandwiches. But this fine cut also produces something else. An excellent, warming stock that should not be thrown away. In fact, it should be used to make something just as special. A deep, hearty split pea and ham soup. And here is @grylos showing you how to do it. Like most things, if you cook with time and consideration, the by-product is often just as good as the main event.
  • Ask yourself this. When did you last have a really good pork chop? This is why we keep coming back to it. Native, rare breed pork. Dry aged on the bone. Proper depth of flavour. Nothing like the pale, wet stuff you see elsewhere. These are our Pork Chops with Rosemary and Anchovy Butter. Two thick, rindless chops. Two discs of handmade compound butter. Anchovy, rosemary, lemon zest, a little shallot. Old friends. It works.
@swaledalebutchers
@swaledalebutchers
•
Follow
March sits between seasons. Winter has not quite loosened its grip, and there is still time, and need, for fortifying pleasures. A bowl of chicken broth is one of them. It begins with a proper chicken stock. Just bones and time in the pot, slowly giving up their flavour until the liquid runs clear and deeply savoury. If you watched our earlier film on how to break down a whole chicken, this is where the rest of it finds its purpose. From there the broth is built. Pearl barley for substance. Cavolo nero and turnips for the season. Simple things, allowed to do their work in good stock. Just before serving, a small splash of oloroso lifts the whole bowl.
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452
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British Pie Week, apparently. We do not usually pay much attention to themed food weeks. We prefer to make and sell things when they feel right. This year is different, thanks to our growing friendship with Yorkshire chef and pie obsessive Josh Whitehead, and his excellent pie project, Finer Pleasures. Josh started @finer_pleasures in 2023 to make pies the way they should be made. Proper fillings, local meat and traditional methods. So we thought we would join in. The pie is a classic. Chicken, ham, leek and mushroom. Brined chicken, smoked ham hock and a rich velouté finished with herbs, mustard and chestnut mushrooms or leeks. A proper pie. Available this week while they last.
British Pie Week, apparently. We do not usually pay much attention to themed food weeks. We prefer to make and sell things when they feel right. This year is different, thanks to our growing friendship with Yorkshire chef and pie obsessive Josh Whitehead, and his excellent pie project, Finer Pleasures. Josh started @finer_pleasures in 2023 to make pies the way they should be made. Proper fillings, local meat and traditional methods. So we thought we would join in. The pie is a classic. Chicken, ham, leek and mushroom. Brined chicken, smoked ham hock and a rich velouté finished with herbs, mustard and chestnut mushrooms or leeks. A proper pie. Available this week while they last.
British Pie Week, apparently. We do not usually pay much attention to themed food weeks. We prefer to make and sell things when they feel right. This year is different, thanks to our growing friendship with Yorkshire chef and pie obsessive Josh Whitehead, and his excellent pie project, Finer Pleasures. Josh started @finer_pleasures in 2023 to make pies the way they should be made. Proper fillings, local meat and traditional methods. So we thought we would join in. The pie is a classic. Chicken, ham, leek and mushroom. Brined chicken, smoked ham hock and a rich velouté finished with herbs, mustard and chestnut mushrooms or leeks. A proper pie. Available this week while they last.
@swaledalebutchers
@swaledalebutchers
•
Follow
British Pie Week, apparently. We do not usually pay much attention to themed food weeks. We prefer to make and sell things when they feel right. This year is different, thanks to our growing friendship with Yorkshire chef and pie obsessive Josh Whitehead, and his excellent pie project, Finer Pleasures. Josh started @finer_pleasures in 2023 to make pies the way they should be made. Proper fillings, local meat and traditional methods. So we thought we would join in. The pie is a classic. Chicken, ham, leek and mushroom. Brined chicken, smoked ham hock and a rich velouté finished with herbs, mustard and chestnut mushrooms or leeks. A proper pie. Available this week while they last.
6 days ago
53
View on Instagram |
2/8
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@swaledalebutchers
@swaledalebutchers
•
Follow
It’s easy to become disconnected with the restaurants and kitchens where our meat ends up being prepped, cooked and served. Whilst Instagram can give us a certain understanding of how the food looks; we all know that there is no substitute for experiencing it first-hand. And that is what we had the pleasure of doing this week at the Canton Arms. One of London’s great pubs and one of our oldest, most significant customers. We have been suppling them with exceptional meat since nearly the very beginning of the Swaledale journey. Last night was a moment to celebrate that relationship in all its glory; our meat and their cooking and outstanding hospitality coming together for what was a grand evening. We ate, we drank, we chatted in a room that was alive. Long may dining rooms like this thrive and continue to provide people with a space to consume food, booze and hospitality in such a joyous way. It was a special night for us, and we hope for everyone who was there. Thanks to @chargieb , @cantontrish, @petea25 and the @cantonarms team for being total legends xx Ps sorry for not getting any decent pics of the food! Was having too much fun.
2 weeks ago
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View on Instagram |
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@swaledalebutchers
@swaledalebutchers
•
Follow
We have all seen the videos. A chicken arrives. Five neat strokes of a knife. It falls apart as if by magic. That comes from thirty years at the block. Most of us do not have that. So here is a slightly more Radio 4 approach. A calm, sensible way to take a good chicken and break it down at home. Nothing flashy. Just understanding the joints, working with the bone, and giving each part the respect it deserves. When you do that, you open up a week (almost) of meals. Breasts cooked one way. Legs another. A carcass that becomes stock rather than waste. More on that to follow. The only things you truly need are a great chicken and a proper knife. Ours is a beautiful honsuki knife kindly supplied by @kitchenprovisions and it does the job expertly. Sharp. Balanced. Delightful. Watch along as @grylos talks it through.
3 weeks ago
611
View on Instagram |
4/8
Mutton has earned itself an unfair reputation. For centuries it was simply the meat we ate. Lamb is, in many ways, the modern preference, made possible by refrigeration and global trade. Before that shift, it would have made little sense to slaughter an animal before it had lived fully and bred. Sheep were kept for wool and continuity, and when their working life was complete, they became mutton. It was part of a cycle. Practical and sustaining. What changed was not the meat, but our habits. Yet not all mutton is equal. Age alone does not create depth. Mutton reflects the life it has lived. When sheep are kept longer and allowed to graze widely on varied forage, moorland grasses and herbal leys, time and terrain build complexity into the muscle and fat. That is the mutton we favour and source. Darker, firmer and deeper in flavour, shaped by prolonged grazing on moorland such as this, just outside Skipton. There was once a rhythm between wool on our backs and mutton on our tables. Perhaps that rhythm still makes sense.
Mutton has earned itself an unfair reputation. For centuries it was simply the meat we ate. Lamb is, in many ways, the modern preference, made possible by refrigeration and global trade. Before that shift, it would have made little sense to slaughter an animal before it had lived fully and bred. Sheep were kept for wool and continuity, and when their working life was complete, they became mutton. It was part of a cycle. Practical and sustaining. What changed was not the meat, but our habits. Yet not all mutton is equal. Age alone does not create depth. Mutton reflects the life it has lived. When sheep are kept longer and allowed to graze widely on varied forage, moorland grasses and herbal leys, time and terrain build complexity into the muscle and fat. That is the mutton we favour and source. Darker, firmer and deeper in flavour, shaped by prolonged grazing on moorland such as this, just outside Skipton. There was once a rhythm between wool on our backs and mutton on our tables. Perhaps that rhythm still makes sense.
Mutton has earned itself an unfair reputation. For centuries it was simply the meat we ate. Lamb is, in many ways, the modern preference, made possible by refrigeration and global trade. Before that shift, it would have made little sense to slaughter an animal before it had lived fully and bred. Sheep were kept for wool and continuity, and when their working life was complete, they became mutton. It was part of a cycle. Practical and sustaining. What changed was not the meat, but our habits. Yet not all mutton is equal. Age alone does not create depth. Mutton reflects the life it has lived. When sheep are kept longer and allowed to graze widely on varied forage, moorland grasses and herbal leys, time and terrain build complexity into the muscle and fat. That is the mutton we favour and source. Darker, firmer and deeper in flavour, shaped by prolonged grazing on moorland such as this, just outside Skipton. There was once a rhythm between wool on our backs and mutton on our tables. Perhaps that rhythm still makes sense.
Mutton has earned itself an unfair reputation. For centuries it was simply the meat we ate. Lamb is, in many ways, the modern preference, made possible by refrigeration and global trade. Before that shift, it would have made little sense to slaughter an animal before it had lived fully and bred. Sheep were kept for wool and continuity, and when their working life was complete, they became mutton. It was part of a cycle. Practical and sustaining. What changed was not the meat, but our habits. Yet not all mutton is equal. Age alone does not create depth. Mutton reflects the life it has lived. When sheep are kept longer and allowed to graze widely on varied forage, moorland grasses and herbal leys, time and terrain build complexity into the muscle and fat. That is the mutton we favour and source. Darker, firmer and deeper in flavour, shaped by prolonged grazing on moorland such as this, just outside Skipton. There was once a rhythm between wool on our backs and mutton on our tables. Perhaps that rhythm still makes sense.
@swaledalebutchers
@swaledalebutchers
•
Follow
Mutton has earned itself an unfair reputation. For centuries it was simply the meat we ate. Lamb is, in many ways, the modern preference, made possible by refrigeration and global trade. Before that shift, it would have made little sense to slaughter an animal before it had lived fully and bred. Sheep were kept for wool and continuity, and when their working life was complete, they became mutton. It was part of a cycle. Practical and sustaining. What changed was not the meat, but our habits. Yet not all mutton is equal. Age alone does not create depth. Mutton reflects the life it has lived. When sheep are kept longer and allowed to graze widely on varied forage, moorland grasses and herbal leys, time and terrain build complexity into the muscle and fat. That is the mutton we favour and source. Darker, firmer and deeper in flavour, shaped by prolonged grazing on moorland such as this, just outside Skipton. There was once a rhythm between wool on our backs and mutton on our tables. Perhaps that rhythm still makes sense.
4 weeks ago
501
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5/8
@swaledalebutchers
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Follow
Kindred spirits. Hot pans. Spiced mutton. Swaledale x Canton Arms supper. Wednesday 25 February. To book email Thecantonarms@gmail.com @cantonarms
4 weeks ago
1526
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6/8
@swaledalebutchers
@swaledalebutchers
•
Follow
Winter and its cold hands have us fully in a tight embrace right now. And so we find ourselves cooking more often than not, to warm our souls. A ham at the weekend is one such thing that does the job. It can be used for all kinds of dishes and provide your weekdays with a plethora of fine sandwiches. But this fine cut also produces something else. An excellent, warming stock that should not be thrown away. In fact, it should be used to make something just as special. A deep, hearty split pea and ham soup. And here is @grylos showing you how to do it. Like most things, if you cook with time and consideration, the by-product is often just as good as the main event.
1 month ago
14516
View on Instagram |
7/8
Ask yourself this. When did you last have a really good pork chop? This is why we keep coming back to it. Native, rare breed pork. Dry aged on the bone. Proper depth of flavour. Nothing like the pale, wet stuff you see elsewhere. These are our Pork Chops with Rosemary and Anchovy Butter. Two thick, rindless chops. Two discs of handmade compound butter. Anchovy, rosemary, lemon zest, a little shallot. Old friends. It works.
Ask yourself this. When did you last have a really good pork chop? This is why we keep coming back to it. Native, rare breed pork. Dry aged on the bone. Proper depth of flavour. Nothing like the pale, wet stuff you see elsewhere. These are our Pork Chops with Rosemary and Anchovy Butter. Two thick, rindless chops. Two discs of handmade compound butter. Anchovy, rosemary, lemon zest, a little shallot. Old friends. It works.
@swaledalebutchers
@swaledalebutchers
•
Follow
Ask yourself this. When did you last have a really good pork chop? This is why we keep coming back to it. Native, rare breed pork. Dry aged on the bone. Proper depth of flavour. Nothing like the pale, wet stuff you see elsewhere. These are our Pork Chops with Rosemary and Anchovy Butter. Two thick, rindless chops. Two discs of handmade compound butter. Anchovy, rosemary, lemon zest, a little shallot. Old friends. It works.
1 month ago
472
View on Instagram |
8/8