I have always found that if you want to eat the tastiest and most interesting pieces of pork, then you should go to a Cantonese restaurant. They do belly pork in many different ways: slow-roasted with soy; roasted until the skin is like sandpaper; braised in stock with garlic and aniseed; and various one-dish “hot-pots” where pieces of meat are cooked with oysters, eel, bean curd, pork kidney and liver, and many other ingredients too numerous to mention. In China, every bit of a pig is used.
The same goes for France. A charcuterie is one of my favorite places to dip into on travels in that country. I can’t resist looking at the trays of porky things such as museau (sliced pork brawn, or “head cheese” as the Americans call it), pork chops that have been made into a confit, smeared with fat and ready to be added to a pot of haricot vert beans and braised in the oven. Myriad sausages, both dried as in salamis and saucisson sec, and others, such as cervelas and saucisson de Lyon, which will be boiled and served with lentils or hot potato salad. Then there are the dried hams, such as jambon de Bayonne, freshly cooked boiled hams, and knuckles of cured pork for choucroute. And there are always those lovely slabs of poitrine fumée, a smoked bacon that bears no resemblance to our lackluster, watery, ready-sliced, pre-packed version. This poitrine fumée is marvelous stuff. I only wish you could buy it outside of France because its smoky flavor is so pungent, and its texture is firm with an equal proportion of meat and fat that produces the best crisp bacon you will ever eat.
The Italians call this bacon pancetta. It appears in two forms. One is exactly like poitrine fumée, and the other is unsmoked and comes in a long sausage. Its center is like the lean part of back bacon (the loin) and rolled round it is the belly. It has a deep and strong cure—like bacon used to have—and is, once again, dry and meaty with just the right amount of fat. This sort of bacon is perfect for putting into a beef stew or a coq au vin. The smell of it frying in its own fat is one of the best. You can find this in good Italian grocers.
It is a shame that here in Britain we actually haven’t progressed further than roast pork with sage and onion stuffing and applesauce, and sausages. I know that there are artisan pork butchers dotted around here and there—particularly in the West Country—but they are very few and far between. There used to be good-quality, homemade brawn in any self-respecting butcher’s shop, but not so much now. Have we become so sophisticated and health-conscious that we only like our pork in neat little fillets or a well-trimmed chop? Even more perversely, you will find a hearty and gutsy dish that has been over-refined so that it, too, loses its identity. Recently, on a visit to a smart new restaurant in London’s West End, I ordered a dish of braised pig’s head. What was odd was that the only parts of the head served were a small piece of cheek, a little tongue, and some brain. It came in a neat little bowl with some admittedly good gravy, but where was the ear and some of the lovely fatty skin?
In French Provincial Cooking by Elizabeth David, I first came across the dish Le Saupiquet des Amognes. Mrs. David describes it as a “sauce piquante à la crème served with slices of ham fried in butter.” She also goes on to say that it is a sauce “which is one well worth knowing.” I agree. It is nicely old-fashioned, being a very rich sauce that is (a) thickened with flour and butter—very unfashionable—and, (b) uses lots of cream—very unhealthy. The dish originates in Burgundy, particularly around the region of Morvan, which is noted for its ham dishes.
The sauce is also particularly good with boiled salted ox or calves’ tongue (see here).
4 shallots, peeled and finely chopped
6 tbsp white wine vinegar
3–4 juniper berries, crushed
6 tbsp white wine
2 tbsp butter
1 rounded tbsp all-purpose flour
1 cup strong beef stock (use the recipe for Meat Glaze on here, and use the stock before the final reduction)
¾ cup plus 2 tbsp heavy cream
salt and pepper
In a stainless steel or enamel pan, boil together and reduce the shallots, vinegar, juniper berries, and white wine until nearly all the liquid has been driven off.
Meanwhile, melt the butter in another pan, add the flour and make a roux. Heat the beef stock and add to the roux, using a whisk. Cook gently for a few minutes, then add to the reduced shallot mixture. Bring back to the boil, add the cream and seasoning, and allow to simmer very gently for 5 minutes or so. Strain through a fine sieve, check the seasoning, and the sauce is ready.
This recipe comes from Chez Panisse Cooking by Paul Bertolli with Alice Waters. The greens in question can be young spinach leaves, arugula, frisée, or, if available to you, Chinese greens, such as bok choy.
¼ tsp salt
2 tbsp red wine vinegar
1 large shallot, peeled and finely chopped
1 garlic clove, peeled and very finely chopped
4 tbsp olive oil
3 large handfuls of greens (about 9 oz), washed and dried
12 very thin slices of prosciutto
Dissolve the salt in the vinegar, stir in the shallot and garlic, add pepper to taste, and stir in the olive oil. Put the vinaigrette in a stainless steel bowl or wok large enough to hold the greens comfortably, and place over a low heat. Add the greens, toss them continually with a pair of tongs or two forks for about 1 minute or until they are slightly wilted but have not gone entirely limp. Remove from the heat, and working directly from the bowl, place a small mixture of greens loosely on each prosciutto slice. Roll up and serve while still warm.
The texture of this terrine is vastly improved if it is hand-chopped with a large knife. It may be grated using the large-holed disk of a grater, but the result is not as good. This feeds many more than four people—probably about twelve in fact; making a terrine for four people is not practical.
12 oz pork fatback
2 lb shoulder of pork
8 oz lean bacon in one piece, rind removed
8 oz pork liver
2 tbsp butter
2 small onions, peeled and finely chopped
1 cup fresh white breadcrumbs
1 wineglass of dry white wine
3 tbsp brandy
4 garlic cloves, peeled and finely chopped
2 tbsp chopped flat-leaf parsley
10 sage leaves, finely chopped
½ tsp ground allspice
2 tsp herbes de Provence
2 level tsp ground black pepper
2 tsp salt
Preheat the oven to 325°F. Cut 4 oz of pork fatback into thin slices and use them to line a 3-pint dish, reserving two or three slices for the top. (The shape of the container is up to you. It could be the traditional oval terra cotta dish with a lid, or the neater rectangular porcelain or orange cast-iron type made by Le Creuset.) Having done this, cut the remaining fat into small dice. Do the same to the pork shoulder, bacon, and liver. Put them all together on a chopping board. Using a large knife, mix thoroughly by further chopping until all three ingredients are a uniform mass. Place in a large bowl.
Melt the butter in a frying pan and cook the onions until pale gold. Cool and add to the meat together with all the other ingredients. Take a small amount of the mixture and fry in a little oil until cooked through. Allow to cool and taste for seasoning. Pack the mixture into the terrine and cover with the reserved slices of pork fat. Put the lid on (or cover with aluminum foil) and cook in a bain-marie using a deep enough roasting pan so that the water will come three-quarters of the way up the dish. Cook in the oven for about 1½ hours.
Remove from the oven, lift out of the roasting pan, and pour away the water. Return to the empty pan and uncover. The terrine will have slightly shrunk away from the edges and be surrounded by meat juices and fat. Insert a thin skewer into the middle of the terrine, hold it there and count to five, then hold it against your bottom lip. If it is hot, not warm, then it is cooked. Allow to rest for 10 minutes.
If the lid of the terrine is suitable, then invert it and weight it down to press the terrine. If not, then a small piece of wood cut to fit the top of the terrine, wrapped in plastic wrap and then foil, may be used instead. Press for at least 30 minutes, during which time juices and fat will have come to the surface or poured over the edge of the dish. If it is the latter, then return these juices to the terrine. Replace the lid, allow to cool completely, then put in the fridge. Wait for 3 days before consuming. Eat with crusty bread and gherkins.
Braised belly pork given this treatment ends up as a wondrously tender and melting piece of meat. The recipe has evolved from various ideas, with both European and Asian influences. Most of the time it ends up slightly different from the time before, with a lot of trial and error, but that’s the fascination of cooking.
The right thing to serve with this would be some briefly fried spinach or, if you happen to live near an oriental supermarket, then get some bok choy (Chinese greens) and some egg noodles.
4 pints water
4 lb belly pork, in one piece, rind and bones intact
¾ cup dry sherry or sake
3 star anise
2-inch cinnamon stick
15 thin diagonal slices of fresh root ginger
½ tsp (or less) dried chilli flakes
1⅓ cups good-quality soy sauce
1 tbsp red currant jelly
6 tbsp balsamic vinegar
30 garlic cloves
6–7 spring onions, trimmed and thinly sliced into shreds
cilantro sprigs
1 large red chilli, seeded and cut into thin strips
Bring the water to the boil in a shallow pan that the pork will fit into quite snugly, but with a few gaps to spare. Put in the pork and when it comes back to the boil, remove any scum. Add the sherry or sake and simmer for 30 minutes. Add the spices, ginger, chilli flakes, soy, red currant jelly, and balsamic vinegar. Bring back to the boil and simmer, covered, on a very low heat or in a very low oven for 2–3 hours, carefully turning the meat from time to time. Add the garlic after 1 hour of cooking.
When a thin skewer inserted into the meat offers absolutely no resistance, then the meat is cooked. Gently remove onto a serving dish along with the pieces of ginger and garlic, and keep warm. Reduce the sauce until of a syrupy consistency but watch out for excess saltiness due to the soy sauce, so keep tasting.
Spoon the sauce over the meat and strew with the spring onions, cilantro sprigs, and chilli. The meat can be eaten with a spoon, the bones will just slip out and the fat and rind will be lusciously soft and melting.
This is a French country classic, though I suppose one could say that boiled bacon and split peas would be our English version. To cheat, it would be perfectly acceptable to buy some good-quality bacon in a piece, and to use that instead of salting your own.
4 lb belly pork, in one piece, rind and bones intact
1 quantity Brine (see here)
12 oz Puy lentils (the brown ones are a perfectly good alternative)
12 small carrots, peeled
20 pearl onions, peeled
12 tender celery sticks, cut into 3-inch pieces
2 bay leaves
3 cloves (stuck into the carrots or the onions)
2 thyme sprigs
¼ cup butter
2 tbsp chopped flat-leaf parsley
Dijon mustard
½ cup heavy cream
Soak the pork in the brine for 3 days, then drain and place in a large pot. Cover with cold water, bring to the boil, and drain again. Put the pork back in the pot and cover with 3 pints water. Poach gently for 30 minutes. Add the lentils, vegetables, herbs, and spices, and continue cooking on a very low heat, stirring from time to time, for a further 1 hour or until the lentils and vegetables are tender. Remove the pork and keep warm. Stir the butter into the hot lentils for added richness, check the seasoning, and stir in the parsley. Pour into a warmed deep oval serving dish, slice the pork, leaving the bones intact, and lay on top. Serve with a little mustard sauce, made by simply whisking the mustard into the heavy cream.
