Andouillettes, anyone?

There is one thing that never ceases to cause a foodie rift between my mother and me: andouillettes. She simply loves them, and I simply loathe them. Everything is wrong about them: what they are, the way they look, and even more so, the way they smell. So what could inspire such strong emotions in me? I’ll tell you exactly what’s wrong with them.  Put bluntly, they are fat sausages made with chitterlings, or even more bluntly: the intestines of a pig. The good town of Troyes produces the most common type of andouillettes found in France, but other regions have their own versions. However, they all have one thing in common: to me, they are all simply repugnant.

Now, I don’t know if it is all about the generation divide, not wanting to be nasty to my dear mama, but there seems to be a concensus that the andouillettes connoisseurs are over, let’s just say, a certain age. I don’t think the younger generations can be described as massive fans of the andouillette, although there will of course be exceptions, just to confirm the rule.

Frankly, I have never understood the silly notion that the whole of the pig should be consumed until only the ‘squeak’ is left. Clearly, some parts were NOT meant to be eaten. So, Mother, next time I visit, please don’t even try to serve me andouillettes again.



Il y a une chose en matière gastronomique qui ne manque jamais de causer une dispute entre ma mère et moi: les andouillettes. Elle les adore, je les déteste, tout simplement. Elles n’ont rien de bon: leur nature, elles sont moches et elles sentent encore pire. Qu’est-ce qui peut m’inspirer tant de révulsion?  Je vais vous expliquer exactement ce qui ne va pas.

Pour le dire sans ambages, ce sont de grosses et grasses saucisses faites avec des tripes, ou encore plus clairement: des intestins de porc. La bonne ville de Troyes produit l’andouillette la plus commune en France, mais d’autres régions ont leur propre version. Cela dit, elles ont toutes quelques choses en commun: elles me répugnent toutes.

Bon, je ne sais pas si c’est un problème de générations, et je ne veux pas être méchant avec ma maman, mais il me semble que d’un commun accord, les amateurs d’andouillettes sont, comment dirais-je, d’un certain âge. Je ne pense pas que les générations plus jeunes pourraient être décrites comme étant fans d’andouillettes, bien qu’il y a bien sûr des exceptions, juste pour confirmer la règle.

Franchement, je ne crois pas au vieil adage qui dit que tout est bon dans le cochon, du groin jusqu’au jambon, comme dit la chanson. Clairement, certaines parties NE sont PAS bonnes à manger. Alors, Maman, à ma prochaine visite, n’essaye même pas de me servir des andouillettes, s’il te plaît.

  • Tapiwanashe

    Salut! I am currently living out of France (in Abu Dhabi) but was delighted to find a perfectly decent andouillettes frites – Lyon not Troyes recipe – in the French style bistro at Novotel (all dining out is in hotels if you want wine). At least one of the supermarkets popular with expats has a pork section, rather discreetly located at the back of the shop, but no andouillettes there. I realise not everyone would use the word ‘decent’ in this context, but each to his/her own.

    • Merci! of all places, I would not have imagined it possible to find andouillettes in Abu Dhabi, so not surprised you didn’t!

  • Laure

    With you totally. Andouillettes always make me feel like I ought to give them a go, that they could be this beautiful, earthy creation of the “terroir” but … no, I can’t face it. I’m ashamed to say, never tried, never will.

    • Laure, with you totally. Makes me even a little sad that I cannot bring myself to try them…

  • Normandy Then and Now

    Oh yes and oh dear. Agree with you completely. We found out the hard way about the fiend Andouillette and have written a bit about it here. Such a pretty name…

    • Merci! Happy to share the link to your excellent article!