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Bicycle Delivery! That’s How We Roll.

We are excited to announce a new feature of a Smokehaus summer … sandwiches delivered by bike! We think it’s a great way to resolve the issue of traffic flow/hungry people throughout much of Canal Park, Downtown, and Park Point, and expect it to be fast and furious for the next several months. 

Starting May 4th, we will be delivering sandwiches (any quantity), sodas, and sides  Monday – Friday, 11:00 AM to 4 PM, throughout a limited though significant area of Duluth. Just give us a ring and we’ll hop on our ten speeds!

We also plan to eventually expand our hours into weekend delivery, and especially look forward to beach rendezvous. Might I recommend an Italiensk? It really is better after some time in the sun. 

northern_waters_smokehaus_bike_delivery

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Smokehaus Recipe: Roasted Fennel Salad

The rumors are correct: the Smokehaus can make salad. Occasionally, the Smokehaus makes a tremendously delicious salad, even, and this is one of them. 

It pops up from time to time on our catering menu and we shift the recipe to include fried copa or not, depending on the vegetarian population at any given event. Also, this salad does well with many types of dressing – I’m giving you a recipe for the standard roasted red pepper sauce, but feel free to use the vinaigrette of your choice.

Roasted Fennel Salad with Coppa

Smokehaus Roasted Fennel Salad

For the Dressing:

2 Cups Roasted Red Peppers (do it at home – always a good time – or buy them by the can)

Squirt of Lemon 

Olive Oil 

Salt and Pepper to taste


4-5 Fennel Bulbs

2-3 Tablespoons Olive Oil

Salt and Pepper to taste


Mixed Greens

1 Cup Cashews or Marcona Almonds

1 Cup Sweetie Drops


Preheat the oven to 375 degrees

Make the dressing by pureeing the red peppers in a food processor or blender with the squirt of lemon while slowly incorporating enough olive oil to create a runny dressing. When smooth, add salt and pepper to taste.

Wash and quarter the fennel, discarding (or saving for later) the feathery tops. Toss with olive oil, salt and pepper, put in an even layer on a baking sheet, and bake for 15 minutes. Tousle, and continue cooking (and tousling, if need be) for another 30 minutes or until evenly brown. Remove and let cool slightly. 




Combine all ingredients (we prefer greens, then fennel, then nuts, then sweetie drops, then a drizzle of dressing). Top with fried, crispy Copa if desired.

Makes 4 big servings or 6 smaller ones.





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Mortadella Madness

It’s been many years in the making, but we finally nailed a Mortadella recipe! Originating in Italy, Mortadella is basically fancy bologna – which made us think, “hey, how hard can it be to make a low-rent lunchmeat?” Pretty damn hard, it turns out.

One of our first brushes with Mortadella manufacture resulted in a flavor not unlike a wet, fetid dog and a texture that was mealy. It was perhaps the most inedible product we have ever made at the Smokehaus, before or since. We threw the whole batch away – there was nothing else to do with it. 

Bologna was surprisingly hard-to-get, like some sort of across the tracks romantic tableau where you try to sweep the town drunk’s daughter off her feet only to realize that she isn’t really interested (at least not without some effort). We mistakenly thought Mortadella was a sure thing. We quickly moved on to less complicated garde manger duties, like dry-cured Saucisson Sec and country-style pate. 

A few more attempts here and there resulted in similar failures, leading us to believe that Oscar Meyer (and his millions of dollars worth of machines) had us licked. But this winter has been a winter of discovery – the punishing weather forced us to tinker, to dream, to get a little risky – and we culminated our Mad Professor moods attempting  another round with Mortadella: The One That Got Away. 

We hit the books and got on the phone, lining up the best local pork we could find, along with the most celestial back fat on earth. We ordered synthetic casings – a Smokehaus first – and discussed cooking methods (smoking v. poaching v. roasting v. a combination) in a fairly argumentative way, all of us desperately craving the same two goals: 1) Not to f@#% this up, and 2) To eat copious amounts of Mortadella. We bought exquisite organic pistachios. We diced perfect cubes of lardon. We emulsified. We stuffed. We hung. We waited. 

The outcome of this first heavily anticipated meat torpedo was, if not a disaster, at least a solid rebuke. Although the flavor, color, and shape were exactly as designed, the texture was so powdery, so resistant to the creamy, hammy bliss that is intrinsic to Mortadella, that it actually somehow was able to remove any resonant moisture in your mouth as you ate it. Kind of like a reverse-treat. Like the lunchmeat was punishing us by taking our saliva away after years of drooling about it. Bitch. 

But we tried again.

We adjusted the fat ratio (which is a little stunning, even by our hedonistic standards) along with a few other key technique-oriented factors and voila: Mortadella is finally on our side, pink and perfect. Creamy, dreamy, studded with mild pistachio and aggressive peppercorn – we are definitely going steady. 

mortadella; smokehaus mortadella