Pulled Pork.

I have quite a collection of culinary fails in my repertoire.  I attempted pulled pork about 9 months ago and failed dismally - I didn't cook the hand for long enough and the resultant pork was neither tender enough, nor "pullable".  I wanted to give this recipe another visit, and this time I did some serious research to make sure I got it right.


A 5kg hand of pork (or pork butt, as they call it in The U S of A) is the top of the front leg and shoulder.  It is a particularly resistant cut of meat and can withstand long durations in the oven without drying it out.  Indeed, it requires such long stretches inside to ensure you properly obliterate the collagen in the flesh.


I skinned my hand, by hand (messy, but fun) then made a marinade:

•   One small onion, chopped and into the blender
•   10 cloves of garlic, into the blender
•   About 3 tablespoons of Worcestershire sauce into the blender
•   About 3 tablespoons of dark soy sauce into the blender
•   A squirt of tomato puree into the blender

Blend all this to a nice paste and then smear the hand with it and marinade over night

On the day (or, as in this case, morning) of cooking grease up a large baking tray and place the hand into it.  Preheat the oven to 120 Celsius and put the hand in.

I left my pork in the oven for 8.5 hours (bear in mind it was a 5kg, bone-in joint).  When I took it out it was rather black on the outside, so don't be alarmed.  The meat should be quite easily "pulled" off the bone and then you can shred it by using two forks, one in each hand:

I was surprised by the yield of pork I got.  Guess what we're eating for the next 3 days?

I then made a barbecue sauce to go with this.  Into a saucepan, place the following:

•   a few decent lugs of Worcestershire sauce
•   a few decent lugs of dark soy sauce
•   a generous squirt of tomato ketchup
•   about 4 tablespoons of cider vinegar
•   a good pinch of smoked paprika
•   a little dash of tabasco
•   a teaspoon of dijon
•   gently heat it up to combine all the ingredients

I served my pork the traditional way, in soft, white buns with coleslaw.  It was absolutely delicious and I cannot wait to make it again.  What's even better is that the whole 5kg hand cost me less than 4 quid!

 

Jamon or Prosciutto - what's best?

It is an age old question, one that bisects opinion and catalyzes vociferous debate in the Latin part of Europe.  Where does the best ham come from? 

Today I want to talk about Italian prosciutto.  The word prosciutto comes originally, and not unsurprisingly, from the Latin "pro exsuctus" (which sounds a little bit like a spell from a Harry Potter novel).  Pro exsuctus means to suck out, or remove the moisture.  It doesn't take a scientific genius to work out whats going on here.  The leg of ham (or boar) is dry cured in salt to remove all the moisture ( a process that usually takes 2 months or so).

It seems the Italians, indeed the Romans were rather thrifty.  They made dried pasta as a means of storing wheat and they made prosciutto as a means of storing ham, in an age where refrigeration was far from inception.

Prosciutto proliferated out of the Northeast of Italy into Slovenia and the former Yugoslavian countries.  I have eaten pršut in Croatia and can attest to its very high quality indeed (arguably better than some Spanish and Italian hams).

In my opinion I think both jamon (iberico) and prosciutto have their places, and are more compatible with certain ingredients than others.  I would also be happy to use cook prosciutto (like the wrapped asparagus I made recently) but I would not put pata negra in the oven (it's a waste).

Last night I simply served some prosciutto crudo with potato cakes and it was epic.  Simple dinner, but high-rolling taste.

Potato and Cabbage cakes with prosciutto crudo

 

Yesterday I are been mostly eating meatballs.

A further foray into the frozen wastes of our freezer elicited the discovery of a half pack (250g) of minced pork.  Well, it looked like pork and the label said pork, so it must have been pork?  Rather considerately, we received our vegebox yesterday, which meant that I actually had some fresh ingredients to work with.  I decided to make meatballs with red pepper and onion in a spicy tomato sauce.

 

I'm not sure why, but I do believe that this recipe works best with a "long" pasta - liguine, tagliatelle or parpadelle for example.  Naturally all our "long" pasta was depleted and I had to reach for the ever ubiquitous fusilli.  I honestly think that should there ever be nuclear Armageddon the human race will righteously be saved by fusilli.  No matter how empty your cupboard is, there will always be a half-used pack of supermarket fusilli tucked away at the back.

Meatballs with spicy tomato sauce.

•   250g of mince will eke out 9 meatballs if you are careful.  If possible a mix of  beef and pork works best.
•   Empty the minced pork into a bowl.  Season generously.
•   Finely (and I mean really fine) dice half a Romano pepper and half a small onion. Add to the bowl.
•   Add half a teaspoon of chilli powder.
•   Add a teaspoon of regular paprika.
•   A few finely chopped sprigs of thyme make a tasty addition.
•   Shape into small balls, smaller than a golf ball, but bigger than a marble.
•   Add olive oil to a large, heavy-based frying pan.  Fry the meatballs on each side.  Do not turn them too frequently.  Build up a nice caramelized crust on each side.
•   Remove from the pan.
•   Add a sliced onion and the rest of the Romano pepper, sliced into the pan.  Add some more olive oil if necessary.
•   Start to sweat the onion and peppers.
•   Chop 3 cloves of garlic.  Throw into the pan.
•   Once the ingredients in the pan are softened add a glass of decent wine.  A Chianti or a nice Primitivo would work.  Boil off the booze.
•   Add a tin of peeled plum tomatoes, a squirt of tomato puree, a squirt of Worcestershire sauce and a squirt of tabasco.
•   Add a bay leaf.  Check and correct the seasoning if necessary.
•   Add the meatballs back to the sauce.
•   Cook on a low heat for 30 minutes.
•   Serve with pasta and some cheese!

A couple of faggots for dinner.

I invested a lot of time recently, dreaming up exciting and excruciatingly funny titles for today's blog.  Some I winced at with withering mirth, others I bellowed at with convivial glee.  Actually, in truth, "a couple of faggots for tea" was the best I managed, and for that I am truly sorry.

There is something titterworthy about the word, "faggot".  In America, though, it has a slightly more derogatory connotation.  Having once been a defamatory word for homosexuals, it now seems to have achieved the heady status of generic, mainstream slur. 


Faggots for tea, however is a totally different ball-game.  A faggot is a meatball made of pork and liver (and other cuts of offal dependent on which brand you happen to be eating), mixed with some onion, basic spices and encased in natural membrane.  I made an onion gravy to cook mine in and served them with potato wedges and finely shredded cabbage.

I cannot bring myself to eat liver in its purest form, indeed I have no desire to eat kidneys, heart or tongue.  I can, however, squeeze a faggot in - and I eat them with great gusto (and in this case with a cold glass of Gavi).

Hog's Pudding

There is one thing that always goes down a treat on our table, whether it be for the kids or for us and that is the mighty sausage.  I have eaten many variants from a plethora of countries, spicy merguez from North Africa, currywurst from Germany and mustamakkara from Finland - I have enjoyed them all.  One thing I have not knowingly tried, though, is an offal sausage.  The thought of eating lungs and heart really arrests my appetite.  

Becca's parents were down at the weekend.  They live in North Devon and from time to time they present us with some attractive little local gastronomic delights.  Often they bring us some local faggots (yes, I know these have offal in them, but I've eaten them as a kid), sometimes they bring up a local cheese, or, as in this case they brought us some Hogs pudding.

Now, I was also struck by the name of this product.  I seriously have never heard of it before.  It turns out to be an offal sausage masquerading as some kind of minced sausage in a clingfilm bag.  It is made with, "Pork, groats, herbs and spices".  Only an ingredients list as vague as this could inspire such fear in a man of limited bravado, like me.  First up, what the hell are groats?  They sound like a complaint one might have if their intestines were swollen.  They turn out to be just milled cereal grains - mercifully.  The pork, it would seem is the hazy term.  Generic to say the least.  I would suggest Hogs pudding contains trotter, tail and tongue by all accounts.

Hog's pudding with baked beans and a fried egg!

Crisp on the outside, mushy on the inside with the consistency of something that might have died within the past month, I ate them with a certain degree of caution.  The cereals pack them out somewhat, to the extent where you are confused as to what you might actually be eating.

Both Becca and I turned to each other and said in unison, "they're OK, but I wouldn't buy them again).  'Nuff said.

Banh Trang

About 5 years ago my partner and I took the long journey to Vietnam, via Bangkok (which is always a treat to stopover in).  We spent 3 days in Ho Chi Minh, formerly known as Saigon.  We visited the Chu Chi tunnels just outside the city, where my barely 5ft girlfriend got to fire an AK47 Kalashnikov assault rifle (wearing a pair of stereo headphones as ear protection).  We also visited the "Museum of American War Crimes" which has now diplomatically been renamed the "War Remnants Museum".  We toured some paddy fields and stopped off in a little village to watch banh trang being made.  

Banh trang are Vietnamese rice papers.  They are made by pounding the rice to a powder, adding water to create a paste, then this is spread very thinly over a steamed surface to make the papers - a little like gozleme (if you have ever eaten them in Turkey).

As I often do, I continued to peruse Rick Stein's "Far Eastern Odyssey" (having made the stuffed rotis yesterday).  I saw a recipe for these wonderful, crispy, deep fried rice papers.  Indeed, these papers can also be served steamed, but I rather prefer the slightly oilier deep fried variety.

They are much easier to make than they are to cook!

Pre-cooked banh trang

For those of you that have never eaten cuisine from this area of the world, it is not unusual to find a combination of pork and prawns - the Asian equivalent of surf n' turf!  These particular varieties are no exception:

•   Combine 300g pork mince, 150g prawns (defrosted!), half a grated carrot, a handful of cooked vermicelli noodles, 4 spring onions (chopped), a small onion or some finely chopped shallot, a teaspoon of palm sugar and about 5 minced garlic cloves in a bowl.  Season it well with pepper.
•   Rick says to add a whole beaten egg, but I find that it is not necessary to use.  The mixture binds very well without it.
•   Add some nuoc mam, about 2 tbsp.  If you cannot get the vietnamese variety you can use the thai fish sauce which is widely available (but not as tasty). 

 To make the rolls, get yourself a clean teatowel, dampen it in the centre.  Also have a large bowl of warm water.  Add a rice paper to the warm water, soften it for 10 seconds or so.  Remove it and put it on the teatowel. Add 2 tablespoons of the mixture near the bottom of the circle.  Roll the roll! Pull the sides in and roll it up so you have a nice little package.  Try to limit the amount of air you have inside - this is key.

This is where the fun begins.  I decided to deep-fry my rolls, in a deep fat fryer.  Let's just say I had an explosive time.  This method (at 190C) is far too invasive.  I switched to my wok, and then shallow fried them.  This was also difficult as some of the packages exploded (due to residual air inside), but they turned out well after you get the hang of it.  Not packing the pan with rolls is highly recommended!

I heartily advise you serve it with a lime, chilli and nuoc mam dipping sauce, along side some crispy lettuce.

Will I cook them again, though, is the question?   

Eat your greens!

Purple Sprouting Broccoli

As a child I can distinctly remember the narrow extent of my vegetable consumption - it was exclusively limited to potato, peas (frozen, naturally) and sweetcorn (also frozen).  The mere thought of anything else containing chlorophyll inspired me with infant-like fear.  

It was not until I went to university that I began to garner a desire to broaden my leguminous horizons.  As I found myself fostering and nurturing my love for cooking I decided to at least try some new things to eat.  One by one I began striking each sprout, shoot and root off my list of contraband cuisine.

I pretty much eat every available vegetable these days - though I still harbour some malice towards Brussels sprouts, turnips (unless they are pickled) and parsnips.  I will eat the aforementioned vegetables, but not without some premeditated preparation (often called tomato ketchup).

I think it is time I also declared my absolute revulsion towards anything of a fungal nature.  I simply will not and can not eat mushrooms.  I hate them and avoid them at all costs. 


I made a sausage casserole last night.  Quite a simple one, using onions, garlic, carrots, tomatoes, chicken stock, paprika and cannelini beans.  The method for this little beauty you will find on an earlier post in the Spanish section.  

Sausage Casserole

I decided to serve it with some nice crusty bread, and some purple sprouting broccoli.   There is something infinitely ameliorating about any kind of casserole with crusty bread.


Broccoli is a very healthy vegetable, and I always feel especially good about myself after I have eaten it.  I do, however, hope that you only steam yours?  Did you know that after just 4 minutes of boiling a piece of broccoli you have already depleted 20-30% of the anti-cancer chemical diindolymethane?  You can also microwave or stir-fry it without the same deleterious effect that boiling has.  


I am of the opinion that all members of the brassica family need to be dressed in some way or other.  Broccoli is no exception to this rule and last night I happily dowsed it in a mustard-fueled vinaigrette.

Life, and cooking are tangibly inter-twined.  And as is often the case after cooking something comforting like this I need to vary the scene a little.  Tonight, I fear (for my girlfriend) that I need to create something fiery.  I feel a curry on the horizon...

A streak of luck

Every time I wander into Kingston (that's upon-Thames, not Hull) there seems to be some kind of foreign market.  Sometimes it's a faux French one and sometimes there's too many moustache's to be anything other than a German market.  Today was the turn of the Italian market.

I was surprised, though, by the lack of wildly flaying gesticulation and deafening verbosity.  The market itself resembled any other market to be honest, but I found a reasonably interesting delicatessen tucked away in the corner.  Waiting patiently next to some mortadella (yuck) lurked a rather enticing rectangle of smoked pancetta.


English bacon has its place.  In my opinion it should be shackled to the confines of the full English breakfast or a bacon sarnie where it can be the star of the show.  Pancetta is so much more versatile and can be used almost as a flavouring as opposed to an ingredient in itself.

I think I talked about the marriage between pork and fennel yesterday, and in pancetta you can appreciate this beautiful union again.  I like to use pancetta at the beginning of a recipe, briefly frying it to unlock the spiced fats yielded from within.  


Anyway, I bought about 12 slices of this wonderful, cured, smoked pancetta.  I am going to use it with the rabbit tonight.  I took a picture so you can see a decent Italian pancetta (as opposed to the pre-packed nonsense you often get in the supermarket).

Chewing the fat

During my younger years I always hated the taste and texture of fatty meat.  The prospect of pork chops or the impending gastronomic doom inspired by roasted lamb used to fill me with dread.  

Nowadays I have conditioned myself into liking certain types of fattier cuts.  I love the way oxtails melt into an oozing, unctuous gravy and I adore a slow-cooked rack of ribs coated in some kind of overly sticky sauce.  If I am in a butchers and I see a nice slab of pork belly I cannot ignore its beguiling charm and always succumb to purchasing a large lump.  Today was no exception.

Pork belly is rather in-vogue these days, enjoying a culinary renaissance mainly propagated by celebrity chefs endorsing it as a "cheap cut".  It's around 8-9 quid a kilo now (about twice the price if you tried to buy it, say 18 months ago) and although it doesn't aspire to the dizzying heights of a kilo of fillet steak it is no longer the 4 quid meal it once was.  Regardless of its hike in price I still buy it.  

A kilo is rather a generous amount for 2 people, but you can use it up the next day cold.  When I buy pork belly I look for the following:

•   I want a degree of rigidity to my meat.  Floppy belly implies an intensively reared animal that didn't get to move around much during its pitiful existence.  Floppy belly also means it will shrink quite a lot during the cooking process as it is probably rather a watery, flabby hunk of meat - so try to avoid anything that looks a bit wobbly.
•   I look for a good fat to meat ratio.  Ok, this is a fatty cut of meat but I have in the past bought overly fatty belly and this ruins the meal for me.  I like to have a decent amount of meat otherwise you might as well have bought lardo.
•   I prefer the belly to be off the ribs.  With the ribs in you can seriously skew your cooking times.
•   I look for a about a thumbs thickness of subcutaneous fat beneath the skin.  The skin itself gives great crackling but its the fat underneath that renders into a delicious stratigraphy of fatty goodness.

I took a picture of the 1kg piece I bought.

But - how do I cook it I hear you cry?  For me the perfect way to cook belly is with garlic and fennel (seeds not the vegetable).  It works brilliantly using just salt and pepper, but I like to jazz it up a little.  Here's how to cook it:

•   In a pestle and mortar grind a tablespoon of fennel seeds to a fine powder.  Add some salt and 4-5 plump garlic gloves and grind to a smooth(ish) paste.
•   Apply this paste to the meat side only - leave the skin clear.
•   Finely grind some sea salt, again, about a tablespoon and apply this to the scored skin.  Rub it in as much as possible.  
•   Leave the joint out at room temp for 30-60 mins.
•   Using kitchen roll wipe the skin surface clean of most of the salt.  Try to get it as dry as possible.
•   Heat the oven to 240 celcius.  Add the joint of belly.
•   Leave it for 15-20 mins, then drop the temperature to 140 celcius.  

•   Leave to cook for 2 hours.  You can increase the temperature at the very end of cooking to crisp up the crackling if needed (but I rarely need to do this).

 You can serve this with some greens (spring greens or steamed pointed cabbage) and some sauteed potatoes.

I will update later this evening with a picture of the finished masterpiece.