Pork
Rosamund’s Pulled Pork with Devil’s Apple BBQ Sauce
“Aye, well, but this is the barbecue, isn’t it?” Ronnie said stubbornly, ignoring my feeble attempt at humor. “Anyone kens that ye sass a barbecued hog wi’ vinegar—that’s the proper way of it! After all, ye wouldna put gravel into your sausage meat, would ye? Or boil your bacon wi’ sweepings from the henhouse? Tcha!” He jerked his chin toward the white porter basin under Rosamund’s arm, making it clear that its contents fell into the same class of inedible adulterants, in his opinion.
I caught a savory whiff as the wind changed. So far as I could tell from smell alone, Rosamund’s sauce seemed to include tomatoes, onions, red pepper, and enough sugar to leave a thick blackish crust on the meat and a tantalizing caramel aroma in the air.
—The Fiery Cross, chapter 13, “Beans and Barbecue”
North Carolina has a long tradition of barbecue, and it holds an important place in the state’s history and cultural identity. Rosamund’s recipe, for the most part, is Lexington-style, rather than Ronnie Sinclair’s preferred Eastern-style. The ketchup is authentic, at least in modern versions, but the apple cider is my addition to the classic tomato-vinegar mop. It deepens the flavor of the sauce and boosts its sugar content to result in the thick, caramelized crust on the meat that matches Claire’s mouthwatering description.
Serves 6 or more
Ingredients
2 tablespoons paprika
6 tablespoons dark brown sugar, firmly packed
5 teaspoons kosher salt
1 teaspoon mustard powder
1 teaspoon onion powder
½ teaspoon dried thyme
1 teaspoon freshly ground pepper
½ teaspoon cayenne pepper
5- to 6-pound (2.3 to 2.7 kilograms) pork butt (shoulder)
1 to 2 tablespoons vegetable oil
1½ cups hard or soft apple cider
¾ cup cider vinegar
Method
In a small bowl, combine the paprika, 2 tablespoons brown sugar, 1 tablespoon salt, mustard powder, onion powder, thyme, ½ teaspoon ground pepper, and ¼ teaspoon cayenne pepper and stir to mix well.
Pat the pork roast dry with paper towels. Use your hands to rub the oil all over the roast, then coat it generously with the dry rub. Rest on the counter for 1 to 2 hours.
Meanwhile, in a saucepan, combine the ketchup, apple cider, vinegar, and the remaining ¼ cup brown sugar, 2 teaspoons salt, ½ teaspoon ground pepper, and ¼ teaspoon cayenne pepper. Bring to a boil over medium-high heat, then reduce the heat and simmer briskly until reduced to 3 cups, 10 to 15 minutes.
Set your smoker/grill to between 225°F and 250°F.
Cook the roast with the wood/charcoal of your choice. Start mopping the surface with sauce in the third hour, and every half hour after that, until the internal temperature measures 190 to 195°F on an instant-read thermometer inserted in the thickest part of the roast, 5 to 7 hours, give or take, depending on the size of your roast and the temperature of your smoker or grill.
When it is done, set the meat on a large dish or serving platter and tent it loosely with foil for at least 45 minutes before pulling the meat apart with two forks.
Serve on rolls or Mrs. Bug’s Buttermilk Drop Biscuits with the remaining sauce and a tangy coleslaw on the side.
Store leftovers in the fridge up to 3 days.
Notes
• To keep food-borne illness away, pour a small amount of the sauce into a bowl from which you can mop the meat while it’s cooking. Replenish as needed, but never dip the brush you’re using on the meat into the main batch of sauce.
• Removing the meat from the fridge before cooking is an important step; the most tender, evenly cooked, and delicious roasts are started from meat at room temperature.
• Just as important is the long resting period after the meat has been cooked but before it has been pulled. The larger the roast, the more time it takes for the juices to migrate back into the center of the meat.
“I thought you’d be upset,” I said, scooping up a mouthful of succulent cassoulet with a bit of bread. The warm, bacon-spiced beans soothed me, filling me with a sense of peaceful well-being. It was cold and dark outside, and loud with the rushing of the wind, but it was warm and quiet here by the fire together.
“Oh, about Louise de La Tour foisting a bastard on her husband?” Jamie frowned at his own dish, running a finger around the edge to pick up the last of the juice. “Well, I’m no verra much in favor of it, I’ll tell ye, Sassenach. It’s a filthy trick to play on a man, but what’s the poor bloody woman to do otherwise?” He shook his head, then glanced at the desk across the room and smiled wryly.
“Besides, it doesna become me to be takin’ a high moral stand about other people’s behavior. Stealing letters and spying and trying generally to subvert a man my family holds as King? I shouldna like to have someone judging me on the grounds of the things I’m doing, Sassenach.”
—Dragonfly in Amber, chapter 13, “Deceptions”
Cassoulet comes from the French cassole, the traditional, conical clay pot in which this savory, rib-sticking meat-and-bean stew is cooked. Originally a simple “casserole” of white beans, duck or goose confit, sausages, pork, and whatever other meat was available, this dish of humble beginnings, and its ingredients, is now the cause of much regional debate across southern France.
The Outlander Kitchen cassoulet is a combination of traditional ingredients and techniques with a few modern modifications to make this historical dish more accessible to twenty-first-century North Americans.
Serves 6
Ingredients
1 pound (450 grams) dry white beans (cannellini, Great Northern, navy)
1 smoked ham hock (about 2 pounds or 900 grams)
2 large onions, 1 whole and 1 julienned (see Knife Skills)
6 whole cloves
2 medium stalks celery, each cut into 2 pieces
1 medium carrot, cut into 4 pieces
2 bay leaves
1 pound salt pork (450 grams), cut into ¾-inch cubes
4 whole chicken legs with thighs
1 pound (450 grams) raw lamb or pork sausages with garlic
½ cup white wine or dry vermouth
1 can (14 ounces or 398 ml) whole tomatoes, drained
2 tablespoons duck fat, plus additional, as required
½ teaspoon freshly ground pepper
1 whole garlic head, loose papery skin removed
1 fresh sage sprig
Method
Soak the beans overnight in a large bowl of tepid water.
The next day, in a stockpot, cover the ham hock with cold water, cover, and bring to a boil over high heat. Boil 2 minutes, then drain and discard the water. Cover again with cold water. Stud the uncut onion with cloves. Add it to the pot, along with the celery, carrots, and bay leaves. Bring to a boil, covered with a lid, over high heat. Once at a rolling boil, reduce heat to low and simmer until the ham hock is almost fork-tender, about 90 minutes.
Add the drained beans to the pot, increase the heat to high, and bring to a low boil. Reduce the heat to low, cover, and simmer until the beans are just tender, 45 to 60 minutes, depending on the variety and age of the beans.
Drain and reserve the liquid. Discard the clove-studded onion, carrots, celery, and bay leaves. Pour the beans into a large bowl and shred the meat from the ham hock, discarding the bone, skin, fat, and gristle. Add the meat to the beans.
Move a rack to the middle rung and heat the oven to 350°F.
Place the cubed salt pork in a cold Dutch oven or large cast-iron pan set over medium heat. Cover with a lid and cook until the fat is rendered, stirring very occasionally, 30 to 40 minutes. Remove the lid and cook until the pork is crisp. Scoop the pork onto a plate with a slotted spoon.
Leave all the fat from the salt pork in the pan. (If you do not have at least 3 tablespoons of fat in the pan, add duck fat to make up the difference and heat until shimmering.) Add the chicken legs, skin side down. Cook, undisturbed, until golden brown, 4 to 5 minutes. Flip and brown the other side. Add the legs to the plate with the salt pork. Next, brown the sausages in the fat, turning occasionally until deep golden, about 5 minutes. Cut the sausages in half and pile onto the plate with the rest of the meat.
Discard all but 1 tablespoon of fat from the Dutch oven. Add the julienned onions, stirring constantly, until they soften, about 3 minutes. Deglaze with the wine, scraping up the browned meat bits, until almost dry, about 2 minutes. Add to the bowl with the beans, along with the tomatoes, duck fat, and pepper. Mix well.
Pour half of the bean mixture into a 3-quart cassole, ovenproof ceramic bowl, or Dutch oven. Add the salt pork, chicken, and sausage in a mixed layer, then top with the remaining beans. Pour in enough of the reserved pork hock cooking liquid to just come up to the level of the beans and poke the garlic and sage under the surface.
Bake, uncovered, until the cassoulet comes to a simmer and a crust begins to form, about 1 hour. Stir the crust gently back into the cassoulet, bringing moist beans to the top. Add additional pork hock liquid if required to moisten the beans. Cook for another 2 hours, checking and stirring in the crust one more time. When finished, it should have a thick, golden crust.
Allow to rest for 15 minutes before serving from the pot, breaking the crust at the table.
Store leftovers in the fridge up to 3 days.
Notes
• Discarding the hock’s first boiling water mellows the second boiling to a mild-tasting, slightly smoky stock that won’t overpower the other ingredients.
• I have replaced a classic cassoulet ingredient, duck confit, with more readily available chicken legs. The optional duck fat replaces the authentic flavor lost by using chicken, but if you have access to duck confit, by all means use that.
• In lieu of an authentic cassole, use a Dutch oven or other large ovenproof vessel. Without the traditional conical shape and sloping sides, however, the liquid in the dish will not evaporate and form a crust. You’ll still have a rich and delicious cassoulet, just a crustless one.
• Use the leftover pork hock stock to make a smoky bowl of Kale Brose with Bacon.
“Oh, they would,” Jamie assured me. “They were most seriously sharpening their knives when I found them at it and told them not to trouble themselves.”
I suppressed an involuntary smile at the image of the Beardsleys, bent side by side over a grindstone, their lean, dark faces set in identical scowls of vengeance, but the momentary flash of humor faded.
“Oh, God. We’ll have to tell the McGillivrays.”
Jamie nodded, looking pale at the thought, but pushed back his bench.
“I’d best go straightaway.”
“Not ’til ye’ve had a bite.” Mrs. Bug put a plate of food firmly in front of him. “Ye dinna want to be dealing wi’ Ute McGillivray on an empty stomach.”
Jamie hesitated, but evidently found her argument to have merit, for he picked up his fork and addressed himself to the ragoo’d pork with grim determination.
—A Breath of Snow and Ashes, chapter 46, “In Which Things Gang Agley”
By the eighteenth century, much of the North Carolina and surrounding colonies’ diets were based on pork and corn, as both were relatively easy and inexpensive to raise. This “hog and hominy” diet, as it came to be called, stretched across all levels of society, with the average person consuming five pounds of pork for every pound of beef.
Ragoo is from the French ragoût, a main-dish stew cooked slowly over low heat. Serve this tender, red-wine braised pork with Beer-Battered Corn Fritters, or over pasta, like an Italian ragù, also borrowed from the French root word.
Serves 6 or more
Ingredients
¼ cup all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon kosher salt, plus additional
½ teaspoon freshly ground pepper
4 to 5 pounds (2 kilograms) boneless pork shoulder, cut into 6 to 8 pieces
¼ cup (4 tablespoons) butter
2 bay leaves
2 fresh thyme sprigs
1 fresh rosemary sprig
1 large onion, julienned (see Knife Skills)
1 tablespoon tomato paste
1 cup red wine
1 cup Brown Chicken Stock
3 large garlic cloves, whole
1 tablespoon Worcestershire sauce
Method
On a large plate, mix together the flour, salt, and pepper. Dredge the pork pieces in the flour to cover on all sides.
In a Dutch oven or stockpot, melt the butter over medium-high heat. When bubbling, add half of the pork, leaving space between each piece. Fry until brown on all sides, about 3 minutes per side. Reduce the heat if necessary to avoid burning. Move the cooked pork to a plate and repeat with the remaining pieces. Keep the cooking juices in the pot.
Meanwhile, tie the bay leaves, thyme, rosemary, and lemon zest into a square of cheesecloth with string, or enclose them in a large tea ball. Set the bouquet garni aside.
Add the onions to the pot, scraping up the browned meat bits with a wooden spoon. Stirring almost constantly, fry the onions until they are a deep golden color but not browned, 7 to 10 minutes. Add the tomato paste and stir for 1 minute. Deglaze with the red wine, bring to a boil, and stir for 1 minute. Add the stock, the pork and its accumulated juices, the garlic, and the Worcestershire sauce. Bring to a boil over high heat, add the bouquet garni to the pot, reduce the heat to low, and cover. Simmer until the meat is very tender, about 3 hours.
Discard the bouquet garni and skim the clear fat from the surface of the pot. Shred the pork with two forks and toss in the liquid to cover well.
Store leftovers in the fridge up to 3 days.
“Ken the difference between a Scottish wedding and a Scottish funeral, do ye?”
“No, what?”
“The funeral has one less drunk.”
She laughed, scattering crumbs, and took a Scotch egg. “No,” he said, steering her skillfully to the right of the dock, and toward the willows. “Ye’ll see a few feet sticking out of the bushes now, but this afternoon, they hadn’t had the time to get rat-legged yet.”
“You have such a way with words,” she said appreciatively. “I went and talked to the slaves; all present and accounted for, and mostly sober, too. A couple of the women admitted that Betty does tipple at parties, though.”
“To say the least, from what your Da said. Stinking, he described her as, and I gather he didn’t mean only drunk.” Something small and dark leaped out of his path. Frog; he could hear them piping away in the grove.
—The Fiery Cross, chapter 47, “The Lists of Venus”
The origins of this tasty, protein-packed portable snack are unclear. London’s Fortnum & Mason claims to have invented it for rich coach travelers in 1738. Others have speculated that Scotch eggs were inspired by nargisi kofta, also known as Narcissus meatballs, a dish of minced meat and boiled eggs from the kitchens of sixteenth-century imperial India. A third, more pedestrian, explanation is the most likely: a portable lunch made from leftovers, a Scotch egg is a variation of a Cornish pasty, bridie, or any other handheld working man’s lunch from the early days of industrialized Britain.
Makes 6
Ingredients
7 large eggs
½ cup all-purpose flour
½ teaspoon kosher salt
Pinch of cayenne pepper
1½ cups panko-style breadcrumbs
1½ pounds (700 grams) pork sausage
Vegetable oil
In a large saucepan, cover 6 eggs with cold water and top off with an extra inch. Bring to a full rolling boil over high heat, remove from the heat, and cover for 7 minutes. Drain and cover the eggs with ice water until cool to the touch, then peel them.
In a small bowl, stir together the flour, salt, and cayenne pepper. In another bowl, beat the remaining egg with 1 teaspoon of water to make an egg wash. Fill a third bowl with the breadcrumbs.
Flatten 4 ounces of sausage into a patty in the palm of your hands, and wrap it around a peeled egg. Repeat with the remaining sausage meat and eggs. Roll the sausage-covered eggs in the flour to coat lightly, then in the egg wash, and finally in the breadcrumbs to cover evenly.
In a large frying pan, heat 3 inches of vegetable oil to 350°F. Fry the Scotch eggs until golden, turning occasionally, about 3 minutes. Drain on paper towels. Alternatively, bake in a 400°F oven until light golden and crispy, 25 to 30 minutes.
Serve warm or cold.
Store leftovers up to 3 days in the fridge.
Notes
• Lightly cracking the hard-boiled eggs before submerging them in ice water makes them easier to peel, especially farm-fresh eggs.
• Pork sausage is traditional—but you can use any sausage your heart desires—beef, turkey, even veggie, or make a batch and a half of Young Ian’s Sage and Garlic Sausage and use that.
• Baked Scotch Eggs are not a beautiful golden like those fried in oil, but they do crisp up nicely, to the point where I can honestly say that you’re not going to lose a lot of flavor if you forgo the mess and cleanup of deep-fat frying.
Bangers and Mash with Slow-Cooked Onion Gravy
“Where the hell have you been?” I demanded.
He took time to kiss me before replying. His face was cold against mine, and his lips tasted faintly and pleasantly of whisky.
“Mm, sausage for supper?” he said approvingly, sniffing at my hair, which smelled of kitchen smoke. “Good, I’m fair starved.”
“Bangers and mash,” I said. “Where have you been?”
He laughed, shaking out his plaid to get the blown snow off. “Bangers and mash? That’s food, is it?”
“Sausages with mashed potatoes,” I translated. “A nice traditional English dish, hitherto unknown in the benighted reaches of Scotland. Now, you bloody Scot, where in hell have you been for the last two days? Jenny and I were worried!”
—Dragonfly in Amber, chapter 33, “Thy Brother’s Keeper”
In the past, British sausages—particularly those made under rationing during World War II—were made with an excess of water and would sometimes burst when cooked over a high heat, leading to their nickname, bangers. That won’t happen with a modern sausage on either side of the pond, so fear not.
This is English comfort food at its best. The onions for the gravy cook low and slow all day to make an unbelievably flavorful gravy, and the rest comes together quickly for an easy, end-of-day meal that everyone will love.
Serves 6
Ingredients
3 medium onions, julienned (see Knife Skills)
2 tablespoons vegetable oil, plus 1 teaspoon
½ cup (1 stick) butter
1 fresh thyme or rosemary sprig
Kosher salt to taste
¼ cup all-purpose flour
2 cups Brown Chicken Stock or Vegetable Stock
8 to 12 pork, beef, or veggie sausages, such as Young Ian’s Sage and Garlic Sausage
3 pounds (1.4 kilograms or 5 to 6 medium) yellow potatoes, peeled, cut into 2-inch pieces
2 bay leaves
½ cup light cream
Ground white pepper to taste
Method
In a 3-quart (minimum) slow cooker, toss together the onions, 2 tablespoons vegetable oil, 2 tablespoons butter, thyme, and a pinch of salt. Mound the onions in the center, away from the edges, so that they don’t burn. Cook over low heat for 4 to 5 hours, stirring occasionally if you are around.
Move a rack to the middle rung and heat the oven to 400°F.
When the onions are a deep caramel color, discard the thyme. Turn the slow cooker to high and stir in the flour. Cover and cook for 10 minutes. Whisk in the stock and another pinch of salt, cover, and cook, stirring occasionally, while you prepare the rest of the meal.
In a metal baking pan, toss the sausages with the remaining 1 teaspoon vegetable oil. Roast until golden brown, turning occasionally, 25 to 30 minutes. Tent loosely with foil until the potatoes are ready.
While the sausages cook, place the potatoes and bay leaves in a large saucepan with 2 inches of cold, salted water. Cover and bring to a boil over medium-high heat. Reduce to medium and steam, covered, until tender, 25 to 30 minutes. Drain and discard the bay leaves.
Mash the potatoes until smooth, and stir in the remaining 6 tablespoons butter and the cream vigorously with a wooden spoon. Season the potatoes and the onion gravy with salt and pepper.
Mound the mash in the middle of each plate and top with 1 or 2 sausages. Spoon over the onion gravy and serve with green peas or your favorite vegetable.
Notes
• Don’t rush the onions; the darker the caramel of the onions, the richer and more flavorful the gravy.
• Caramelized onions freeze very well. I often do up to 10 onions at a time, then freeze them in individual containers for use later.
• Avoid turning on the oven and grill the sausages on the BBQ or fry them on the stovetop.
