Archive for November, 2008

November 29th, 2008

Watercress salad wrapped in chèvre and bresaola, with lavender and fennel pollen.

It was Thanksgiving, and I gave you pulled pork I’m sorry.  I just wasn’t very organized this year.  I didn’t trial-run anything for the Thanksgiving feast at Jim’s parents—I hadn’t even decided to attend until two days before.  But I do have something for you.  It’s not turkey… or mashed potatoes… or pumpkin pie.  But it is delicious and was an interesting little addition to our Thanksgiving: Watercress salads wrapped in lavender-and-fennel pollen chèvre and grass-fed bresaola.

Now, I wouldn’t normally post something that required such specific ingredients.  But this just happens to be that good. Worth spending the time searching for grass-fed bresaola.  Worth finding lavender-and-fennel pollen chèvre (it shouldn’t be that hard).  And they are definitely worth the time spent to roll them up individually.

The grass-fed bresaola has earthy, grassy tones that I wouldn’t necessarily want in my air-dried meat—except that it goes so fabulously well with the flowery lavender and talcy and yellowed fennel-pollen.  Add to that sharp watercress (with their juicy, crunchy stems attached) and good, (at least 6 year-) aged balsamic and, really, how could I not post that combination?

It was really perfect for Thanksgiving—a meaty, earthy start to a warm and cozy turkey dinner—and would fancy-up a roast chicken dinner party anyday.  So… now you know what to do with that grass-fed bresaola and all that lavender-and-fennel pollen goat cheese lying around…

Watercress salad wrapped in chèvre and bresaola, with lavender and fennel-pollen

Makes 20-25

  • 1 1/2 tablespoon good balsamic vinegar
  • 1 tablespoon fresh lemon juice, more to taste
  • 1 tablespoon good olive oil or other oil
  • kosher salt, pepper
  • 1 large bunch watercress, trimmed with most of stems left on
  • 20-25 slices bresaola
  • 4 oz. lavender-and-fennel pollen chèvre, room temperature

In a medium bowl, mix balsamic, lemon juice, and oil until combined.  Add salt and pepper to taste.  Add watercress and dress so all the leaves are wet.  Let sit for 20 minutes to 1 hour.

Working one at a time, spread goat cheese carefully onto a slice of bresaola, taking care to apply enough pressure with your butter knife flat against the meat so that it spread thinly but doesn’t rip through.  Leave both ends of the bresaola slices without cheese on them.  Add a small handful of watercress onto the goat cheese and begin wrapping the bresaola by rolling from one side to the other—like rolling a cigarette.  Once rolled, press the edge down to seal the roll.  Begin again and roll until you are out of slices or of energy.  You can add a bit of salt and pepper on top if you like.  Serve room temperature.

November 26th, 2008

(Relatively) Quick Pulled Pork Wraps

Since you’ve already made the coleslaw from last post—you do cook everything I talk about? no?—now it’s time to procure a large hunk of meat.  About 4 ½ pounds of pork shoulder (or pork butt) to be exact.  Preferably from a good butcher, one who’s about 80 years old and learned the art of butchering as a young lad.  If this is not available, get organic from the supermarket.  Now for a spice rub.

It’s paprika, brown sugar, salt, cayenne, garlic, thyme, and red wine vinegar.  Buzz it all up in a food processor, stream in a bit of olive oil and it’s time to get your hands dirty.  This is the point at which you’ll get to know your meat, its every nook and cranny.  Massage it.  Get in the hard to reach spots.  Whisper a few sweet-nothings.  Then place it in a roasting pan, wrap it all up with saran wrap, and tuck it in for the night.

The next day, just pop your pork into the oven and hang around with it for a few hours.  You’ll be sniffing the air and growing hungrier and hungrier as the hours pass, but, please don’t eat anything else you’ve got in the fridge—you’ll want to save all the space in your stomach for this puppy.  It’s relatively quick as pulled porks go—about 4 hours—so you’ll survive the tempting aroma.

After 4 hours pass, take out your pork to check for doneness.  You want a fork to shred the meat easily, in biggish pieces, and the meat should be seriously moist and unctuous.  If you feel your head might explode before you shred and can finally chow down, it’s done.

Shred the pork into a mix of big, small, and medium pieces, breaking up the crispy bits and incorporating them into the bowl.  Try not to take too many tastes—it’s a give-in that you’ll sneak a few bites but you really need to save room for the completed wrap(s).  Tell your dog (or your boyfriend) to stop whining—good pulled pork is a labor of love. It’s time now to salt your coleslaw, heat your tortillas, pour your beer, and take out the extra large roll of paper towels.

Set everything out on the table.  Make yourself a wrap before letting anyone else know dinner’s ready, you don’t want to wait in line for this.  Eat and ohh and ahh.  Toss away the paper towels and forget about wiping your hands—this is fingerlickin’ stuff.

Pulled Pork Wraps

adapted from Tyler Florence’s Tyler’s Ultimate

These wraps are addictive so, if you can, save for a lot of leftovers or midnight snacks.

  • 1 boneless pork shoulder (about 4 to 41/2 pounds)
  • 4 tablespoons kosher salt
  • 1 tablespoon freshly ground black pepper
  • 1 1/2 cups light brown sugar
  • 1/4 cup paprika
  • 2 to 3 sprigs thyme, leaves only
  • 4 cloves garlic
  • 1/4 cup red wine vinegar
  • Scant 1 tablespoon cayenne
  • 3 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
  • coleslaw
  • 1 pack of fajita-sized flour tortillas

Place the pork, fat side up, in a roasting pan fitted with a rack insert. Place the salt, pepper, brown sugar, paprika, thyme leaves, garlic, vinegar, and cayenne in a food processor and pulse until well combined. Add extra-virgin olive oil until you have a nice paste.

Rub all over the pork, being sure to get into the nooks so the salt can penetrate the meat and pull out the moisture – this will help form a crust on the outside when cooked.

With a sharp knife, score the fat with in a cross-hatch pattern. Cover the pork with plastic wrap and marinate in the refrigerator for at least 3 hours or up to overnight.

Allow the meat to sit at room temperature for 30 minutes before cooking. Preheat the oven to 325 degrees F.

Roast the pork for 4 hours, uncovered, until the outside is crispy-brown (it should look like mahogany). Let the meat rest on a cutting board for 10 minutes before slicing.

Warm tortillas in  oven for a few minutes.  Eat pork wrapped in tortilla with coleslaw.

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November 24th, 2008

More love… coleslaw love.

I made this coleslaw the other day—with grainy mustard and red wine vinegar—and Jim surprised me with an unknown fact. He never used to eat coleslaw before he met me. OK, not never, but he wasn’t a coleslaw aficionado, as we are now. It was shocking news. I had thought he loved coleslaw because, in fact, I wasn’t accustomed to eating coleslaw before I met Jim. I had thought he just really liked it, so I went along. Turns out he did the same for me.

I’ve tracked it down to one day, earlier in our relationship, when we were first forming our ritual grocery-shopping routine where we spend hours shopping, trying samples, and kissing in the produce section. We were going to make hamburgers and wanted a side. I enthusiastically asked if he wanted coleslaw, thinking it was a smart thing for me to suggest. He enthusiastically agreed. We both took one another’s enthusiasm to mean a fervent fondness for coleslaw. Since that day, whenever we’ve made anything that could go well with coleslaw, one of us goes out to get, or makes, coleslaw and proudly presents it to the other. The other will make a show of giddiness to make his or her partner feel that being obsessed with coleslaw is okay.

Somewhere down the line though, after all the great coleslaws (and all the bad), after all the discussion of what makes a good coleslaw and all the bonding that we were trying to do, we both began to love coleslaw. I think really, our love for coleslaw came into play right around our first verbal “I love you’s.”

And it’s only gotten better from there—on both accounts. Today’s coleslaw is the perfect example of a nurtured love of coleslaw. It’s got flavorings, but none that muck up a good coleslaw taste. The grainy mustard wards off the too-sweetness that carrots can pack, and the red wine vinegar keeps everything alive. There’s lots and lots of cabbage, and nothing is too wet or soggy. It’s great taco-coleslaw, or on-the-burger coleslaw; it doesn’t taste overly mayonnaissed or—worse—like there’s too much sour cream. And it went perfectly with….

Well, you’ll find out what goes with this coleslaw next post. See you then.

Coleslaw with Grainy Mustard

adapted from Tyler Florence

You can easily double this recipe.  Add salt at the last minute so your coleslaw won’t get all watery and gross.

  • 1 tablespoon whole-grain mustard
  • 1 cup mayonnaise
  • 1/4 cup sour cream
  • 1/2 lemon, juiced
  • 2 tablespoons red wine vinegar
  • 2 teaspoons sugar
  • 1/2 head savoy cabbage finely sliced
  • 1/2 head purple cabbage, finely sliced
  • 2 carrots, sliced on mandoline
  • Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper

Combine the mustard, mayonnaise, sour cream, lemon juice, vinegar and sugar. Mix well and add finely sliced savoy cabbage, purple cabbage, green onions and carrots. Season with pepper, to taste, cover with plastic wrap and set aside in the refrigerator until you are ready to serve. About 1/2 hour before you want to serve, add salt to taste.

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