Archive for ‘Pork’

July 3rd, 2010

Summer Squash Carbonara

I owe you a “proper” carbonara recipe. I mentioned my fondness for authentic carbonara, like months ago, and then there was not another peep from me on the subject. In the meantime, I’ve made “proper” carbonara a handful of times, and even gave an impromptu presentation on carbonara to the employees at the local gourmet market where I buy my guanciale. I just haven’t photographed any of it, since proper carbonara is usually our harried-day dinner, for days when we don’t want to shop, or cook, and certainly aren’t about to pull out the tripod and start taking photos.

alone in the kitchen

So for now, we’ll have to compromise with a summer squash carbonara, since I couldn’t resist photographing these zucchini. It’s not “proper” — far from it — but it does adhere to certain carbonara principles. First, I used guanciale (pig jowl) as the pork ingredient. This rule is often — shockingly! — thrown out the window. I see recipes using bacon and pancetta calling themselves carbonara in cooking magazines all the time. Some of them even mention that if you don’t have pancetta, you can substitute bacon. Pancetta? Pancetta is a substitution in itself. Shouldn’t it read if you can’t, for the life of you, find guanciale you can substitute bacon? Yes, I’ll answer that myself. Yes, that’s what it should say. And while we’re on the subject, I find pancetta too salty for carbonara; I’d rather use bacon, a lightly smoked one.

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Here’s what you can do if you can’t find guanciale: buy a fresh pork belly and turn it into bacon yourself, going light on the smoke, or cure it instead with lots of pepper and juniper berries. Or, okay, this is better: find a butcher who can get you all kinds of cuts of meat (or, find a farmer and buy a whole pig — if you have a big freezer — or go in on a share), then use the jowl to make guanciale. Or you could just mail-order guanciale. Don’t worry if you need to buy a whole lot of it at once. It freezes flawlessly. And it’s worth the cost of shipping.

guancialeguanciale

Alright, the second principle, one I’m particularly fussy about: Never let the eggs touch the pan. Whether you whisk the eggs with cheese beforehand or leave the yolks whole to be added to individual bowls before serving, you never want them to touch high heat. High heat ruins the consistency of the sauce or — worse — scrambles the eggs. If you are cooking for someone with a compromised immune system, you could cook the eggs and cheese (slowly!) to 175ºF in a double boiler, like custard, but a compromised immune system is the only excuse for doing that, people. I’ll know if you do it any other way. I’ve got my eyes on you.

eggs, cheese, PEPPER!

By taking your pasta and other ingredients off the heat before tossing with the egg, you ensure that the sauce won’t overcook. Immediately start mixing once you add the pasta and sauce together, and the eggs will cook just the slightest bit, transforming into a silky sauce that’s lighter than a butter sauce, thicker than olive oil.

my old, trusty stove

The final principle is that there must be a lot of freshly ground black pepper. You’ve got to taste the pepper, rather than using it as a background seasoning. Black pepper gives kick to that silky egg sauce, really makes it. Without enough pepper, the sauce tastes too eggy, and that’s not what carbonara is about. In the best carbonaras, unwitting diners can’t even taste eggs in the dish.

summer squash

In this version, though, it’s okay to go a little easier on the pepper (but still use a healthy amount), since you have so much flavor in the caramelized, sweet, soft, beautiful squash. You want to cook the squash until it’s deeply browned. You’re not looking for crisp tender vegetables here; they should be soft, heavily caramelized, and end up tasting almost as silky as the creamy egg sauce itself. My opinion about zucchini and yellow squash is that it’s a vegetable too often served under-cooked. It’s best when you cook it until the insides are soft and fluffy, like vegetal mousse. Cook it with care, or you’ll end up with mush. The less you mess with the squash, the better; using your spoon to mix it around too often will result in broken pieces with all the insides spilling out. Shaking the pan mixes things up gently. Now would be the time to start perfecting that cheffy toss-and-flip thing with the skillet.

toss with eggs

I cut these squash on a diagonal, to mimic the shape of the penne pasta (a tip from Jamie Oliver). It proved a good shape to use since it left a lot of surface area exposed for caramelizing and cooking into browned, tasty goodnesss and the small, similar shapes in the pasta bowl made for easy eating. Each forkful had zucchini and pasta both, a bowlful of perfect bites.

Jim’s away for a few days, so I didn’t have anyone to share with, which was a little sad since we share almost every meal together. But, honestly, having an extra serving was a-okay by me.

carbonara

Summer Squash  Carbonara

serves 4 // adapted from Jamie Oliver

4 small-to-medium summer squashes (preferably zucchini and thin yellow squash, but any will do)
1 small chunk of guanciale (2 – 3 ounces)
2 big thyme sprigs

2 egg yolks
2 heaping tablespoons crème fraiche (and I mean heaping)
1 healthy handful of parmigiano cheese
lots of freshly ground black pepper
kosher salt

1/2 pound penne pasta
more cheese to taste
chives, optional
good olive oil, for drizzling

Cut the squash lengthwise in half, then cut halves at an angle into slices roughly the same size as the penne. Or, you can leave smaller squash whole and cut into round slices.

Cut guanciale into small chunks and add to a skillet over medium heat. Once the guanciale has begun to render its fat and is looking sort of translucent, add in the squash and bump the heat up to medium-high. Strip the leaves off the thyme stems and add leaves to the pan. Cook until squash is totally tender and deeply caramelized, about 25 minutes.

Meanwhile, put up a pot of water for the pasta, adding ¼ cup of kosher salt to the water.

In a small bowl, whisk together egg yolks, crème fraiche, and cheese. Add a lot of pepper and a big pinch of salt.

Cook pasta according to direction. Drain, then add pasta to the pan with the cooked squash (make sure the squash is already browned to perfection before you add the pasta in). Stir everything together gently, then remove from heat.

In a large bowl, add the egg mixture. Now, add in your pasta, gently stirring as the pasta is going in, and keep stirring (or tossing) everything together so that the egg mixture warms up, but doesn’t cook. (You need to keep everything moving so enough air circulates that it begins to cool down the pasta. If you add the pasta and leave it for even 30 seconds to do something else, the sauce is likely to lose its silky consistency.)

Serve with a garnish of chives, a drizzling of olive oil, and pass around extra cheese at the table.

April 7th, 2010

Pork belly and cabbage

There are two things in the kitchen that I take too very seriously. First, there’s spaghetti carbonara — made with guanciale, always, copious black pepper, real parmigiano-reggianno cheese, and never, ever a sauce made from cooked eggs. The carbonara is prepared — sans egg — then put in the “carbonara bowl.” You add the eggs and stir them in, without scrambling, just cooking them ever-so-slightly. It won’t resemble a cream sauce. It will be silky beyond measure. There’s just no other way.

table

Second, there’s pork belly. I’m not as fanatical about pork belly as I am about carbonara. I don’t subscribe to totalitarian directions. A good pork belly braise, to me, is the opposite of strict. Feeling my way through the recipe, I prepare pork belly in the little of this, little of that method, thinking about the elements of flavor, adding pinches, sniffing, and dipping my finger in the braising liquid to get a good taste.

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I’ve never had great luck following pork belly recipes, probably because the pork belly itself is such an important factor. Too much fat and you better be careful to sear and render it enough. Too little fat and the whole thing may turn dry as a bone. For an Asian-style braise, you’ll need to add a bit more of those “kick” ingredients — vinegar, orange — to work with an overly fatty belly. If there’s not enough fat, you’ll want to save a lot of the dripping in the pan after you’ve seared the belly. Or you could just find a belly with equal amounts fat and meat, and then you’ll be fine, indeed. 

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Usually I serve pork belly over plain white rice, but this time I made a cabbage too. Spicy, of course. I sliced the cabbage thin and put it in a braising pot with some duck fat (my go-to fat for cabbage braising) and brown rice-wine vinegar, adding a few hits of sriracha once it was nice and tender. The result was just as sexy and handsome as that boiled kale I professed love for this winter, but a bit more, ahem, bow-chicka-wowow.

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Which was a good thing, because pork belly usually needs some heat. The belly was seared to hell, then braised with a bunch of scallion tops, shavings from half an orange, star anise, dark soy sauce, and chicken stock. I let it bubble away for a few hours, before slicing it into little squares along the crosshatch. Squares that I served atop the cabbage and covered in scallion slices and cilantro sprigs, and a few dashes of soy sauce. People, they were perfect bites.

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The weather may be too hot this weekend for a pork belly braise now (80 degrees in NJ lately). Unless, of course, you’re too very serious about your pork belly…

pork belly

Pork Belly Braise with Red Cabbage

Printable Recipe

For the pork belly:

1 piece of pork belly, about 1 pound, with about 50 percent fat and 50 perfect meat, scored
1 tablespoon vegetable oil
2 tablespoons dark brown sugar
1 bunch of scallions, green parts only, coarsely chopped (reserve the white part of the scallions for garnish)
2 whole star anise
2-inch piece of ginger, peeled and thickly sliced
peel from 1/2 orange
3 tablespoons dark soy sauce
1/4 cup Shaoxing wine
water to almost cover

For the cabbage:

1 small to medium head of red cabbage
2 teaspoons duck fat
1 cup Shao-Xing rice wine
1 cup water
sriracha
salt, pepper

In a dutch oven that fits the pork belly snugly, melt sugar into oil over medium-high heat for a few minutes, until sugar turns a deep brown color. Put the scored pork belly in the pot, fat side down, and brown on all sides, caramelizing, about 20 minutes. Transfer the pork belly to a plate.

Take some of the drippings out of the pan, or leave it all in, depending on how much has accumulated, and then add the scallion greens, ginger, star anise, and orange into the pot.  Cook for a few minutes and then add the wine and soy sauce.  Fill the pot up with enough water to come up the sides and almost completely cover the pork belly.  Cover the pot and cook over low heat, so that the broth is just simmering, for about 2 hours.  Uncover the pot and cook for another hour or hour and a half.  Remove the pork belly and cut into squares, following the scoring marks.  Strain the broth through a fine-mesh sieve and discard solids.  You can boil the broth if it’s too thin, otherwise serve it as is.

Meanwhile, prepare the cabbage.  Slice cabbage as thinly as you can. Add duck fat to a large pot over medium heat.  Add cabbage and cook for a few minutes.  Add wine and water and cook until the cabbage is completely tender, about 1 hour.  Add sriracha, starting with a few drops, then adding more until it is as hot as you like it (a little hotter, even, since it’s going to be mixed with rice and pork belly.) Season with salt and pepper. Keep warm until the pork belly is ready.

Serve the pork belly in big bowls with white rice and cabbage, pouring some broth into the bowls.  Garnish with scallions and cilantro, and pass around sriracha at the table.

March 26th, 2010

In agrodolce

Have you all read the most recent Saveur? The feature on cooks in Rome, Eternal Pleasures, makes me want to literally bathe in agrodolce.

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And I’ll admit I came pretty close on Monday. Maiale in agrodolce. Cipolline in agrodolce. Together with some garlicky broccoli. It was pure bliss. Worth running out of the office to go home and make right now. Make some excuse. Tell your boss it’s an emergency. Maybe your kitten is stuck up a tree? It would be worth it, really, if you called your neighbor and asked if they would please stick your kitten (any kitten) up a tree so you could go home. Really.

cippolini onions

Worth it, even, if you don’t think you’re a fan of the sweet and savory combination.  I’ve learned that, in culinary terms, there’s nothing I’m not a fan of — if it’s the right recipe, that is. I mean, I really, really, really dislike foie gras if it’s not done right. But, recently, I licked my foie gras plate clean at Town House in Chilhowie. Oysters will make me gag on most occasions, but I’ve twice gobbled up my fair share, in the Outer Banks, and at Town House, too.  I don’t even like sweet and savory combined in most recipes, and yet here I am, raving about two agrodolce preparations, one for onions, one for pork. Remember when I mentioned that I could bathe in agrodolce? Just ask me if I was kidding.

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The “agro” in both is balsamic vinegar. I used a cheap one, so that it wouldn’t be too sweet on its own. For the onions, the “dolce” is regular white sugar and hydrated raisins; for the pork, it’s honey. Despite the similarities, the two agrodolces have their own flavors. Honey, butter, and rosemary create a round flavor, while the olive oil, sugar and raisins have a sweet tartness. The agrodolce sauce is a bit jumpier on the onions. Perfectly so, especially when you mix just a little bit of it into the honey-butter-rosemary agrodolce marinade you’ve made for the pork.

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You certainly don’t have to make the pork and onions for the same meal, but I thought they worked magic together. Add in this broccoli, and I would say it all works symphonically, if that didn’t risk revealing my extreme dorktitude. But I guess I already did that with the whole bathing in agrodolce thing…

Totally worth it.

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Sweet and Sour Glazed Pork Chops

Printable Recipe

from Saveur Magazine, Issue #128

serves 4

4 10-oz. bone-in pork chops
3 tbsp. extra-virgin olive oil
Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper
1⁄3 cup balsamic vinegar
2 tbsp. honey
4 tbsp. unsalted butter
1 sprig fresh rosemary, torn into 1″ pieces

Put pork chops on a plate; drizzle with oil; season generously with salt and pepper; let sit for 30 minutes.

Meanwhile, build a medium-hot fire in a charcoal grill or heat a gas grill to medium-high heat. Combine vinegar and honey in a 1-qt. saucepan and cook over medium heat until reduced to 1⁄4 cup. Stir in butter and rosemary and set aside.

Put pork chops on grill and cook, occasionally turning and basting with balsamic mixture, until browned and cooked through, 12–14 minutes. Transfer to a platter and let sit for 5 minutes before serving.

Sweet and Sour Onions

Printable Recipe

from Saveur Magazine, Issue #128

serves 4

1⁄2 cup raisins
3 tbsp. extra-virgin olive oil
1 1⁄2 lbs. cipolline onions, peeled
1⁄4 cup balsamic vinegar
1 1⁄2 tbsp. sugar
Kosher salt, to taste

Put raisins into a small bowl; cover with hot water and let soften for 30 minutes.

Heat oil in a 12″ skillet over medium-high heat. Add onions and cook until golden brown, 8–10 minutes; pour off oil. Drain raisins. Add raisins, vinegar, and sugar and season with salt. Cook, stirring, until sauce thickens, 2–3 minutes.

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