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1. Alex, thrilled by the finished dry cured ham. This ham was pressed and salted for two weeks and hung to dry until it lost 30% of its weight, about six months. 2. Wishing he had a wooden ham vice. 3. Trying to achieve the perfect thin slice. 4. Pile of prosciutto-like ham.
1. Alex, thrilled by the finished dry cured ham. This ham was pressed and salted for two weeks and hung to dry until it lost 30% of its weight, about six months. 2. Wishing he had a wooden ham vice. 3. Trying to achieve the perfect thin slice. 4. Pile of prosciutto-like ham.
The hillbilly ham house hootenanny concludes today. Catch up on Part One: Why Build a Hillbilly Hamhouse and Part Two: How to Construct a Hillbilly Hamhouse.
So there she was, in all her glory. I ran her for a couple weekends to churn out some smoked meat to give away for Christmas. I poked me a thermometer thru the tinfoil a few times to check’er, and she was about 100 dee-grees, and that book on smokin’ meat—charcoalabalooza or somesuch name, it had—ennyway, I had Rachel read parts of it to me and it said 100 de-grees is about right.
I hadda go buy me some fish to smoke—they’s not bitin’ down at the crick, and them’s all got like two heads and talk funny and what-not ennyway, I ‘spect that comes from livin’ in the run-off of the coal-mine down the way, that’s a whole different story-- but in true Mr. Tayse Christmas fashion, I foun’ me some pig roastin’ meat in the freezer, and made me up some o’ that good ol’ Canadian backbacon.
And, durned if that hillbilly hamhouse didn’t turn out some of the best durned backbacon and smoked salmon ever I laid a tooth to, even usin’ that ol’ oak that fell down two years ago for the smokin’ firewood instead o’ some fancy aldermanwood or whatever. Kinda tasted like some o’ that fancy wine they get outta Californi-a, that chardocuternnay or whatever, that kind all them pussies what drink white wine call “oaky”…
That son-in-law o’ mine, he brought out a sign fer the hillbilly hamhouse, so’s them’s seein’ it fer the first time’d know what she was, but me, I figger if you dunno by lookin’ what she is, you’re dumber than I is. But I’m right proud o’ that ol’ hamhouse, it dresses up the neighborhood, besides makin’ good eats.
I’m thinkin’ ‘bout mebbe expandin’ on it. I been wantin’ to smoke a whole hog, now. I gots me this ol’ chevy up on blocks out back, an’ I figger if set fire to that rustbucket, you know, to get rid o’ the plastic and stuff inside, then I could pipe the ol’ barbecue smoke down the hill into that chevy. I reckon could sit me a whole hog up in the driver’s seat to smoke, now there’d be a sight to please any hilljack—it’d be lak that ol’ hog’s drivin’ along in a cloud o’ smoke, mebbe I’d put a pregnant Winston in ‘is mouth just for show—and when he’s done, we’d have us some good eats too…
One early morning in Monterey, California, I walked into my Russian Language classroom at the Defense Language Institute and was greeted with a most surprising smell. "Get over here an' tear you off a hunk of boooo-dan!" Sargent Lyles he shouted in his heavy cajun accent that applied equally to the Russian we were learning.
"What's that?" I mumbled, tired.
"Boudin! Sausage!" he replied, shoving a piece of hot meat on crusty bread into my hands.
I didn't expect or wish for juicy spicy sausage at 0600, but I couldn't help but love the foodie enthusiasm of 'the Cajuns', as we affectionately called Lyles and his good friend Lieutenant Eaves. Lyles and Eaves surprised myself and our fellow soldiers regularly with their experience with all realms of the real world. They recommended a 50/50 mix of Round-up and diesel fuel to remove weeds (effective, if not environmentally conscious), volunteered and knew precisely how to install a fence on a slope, and showed up to potluck meals with home-cooked Southern classics.
I will never forget their retelling of Mardi Gras in backwoods Louisiana.
Men dress in garish costumes and begin drinking early in the day. After parades, if there were any, they climb onto their horses. Next, they journey from house to house on a 'stone soup'-like tradition that seems to have mutated over the years. Instead of collecting usable contributions to a community pot of gumbo, households throw pieces of raw chicken at the drunk, costumed horse riders. Eaves and Lyles were proud enough of the insane but ancient Courir de Mardi Gras to show video of their band of drunken men in chicken-juice-stained colorful clothes.
-Alex's story, written by Rachel
Every year around this time, we reminiscence about The Cajuns and cook a Louisiana-inspired meal. This year we made boudin, a pork and rice sausage flavored with peppers and garlic. We used Emeril's recipe. Unlike any other of the many batches of sausages we've made, this sausage is stuffed with cooked meat. It is then poached in hot water for service.
We spiced our boudin mildly in the hopes that our child diners would eat it. (Only the youngest ate more than a cursory bite.) To replicate the heat that Alex remembers, I created a spicy aioli to spread on crusty bread slices. Topped with boudin and pickled onions, this combination was indulgent, just right for the spirit of Mardi Gras.
The rest of dinner with friends included masks, shrimp etouffee, maque choux, and Abita beer.
Dessert had to be king cake. The lemon flavored dough rose slowly and steadily, baked to a golden brown and tasted rich. I found the charm (not having a baby Jesus figure, we substituted an Easter bunny) so I will gladly bake a king cake again next year.
Lyles and Eaves, wherever you are, we hope you are celebrating Mardi Gras in style today. Laissez les bons temps rouler!
I apologize for another list post but my mind is stuck on them right now. I have gift lists, guest lists, and grocery lists scattered around the house. When not making or checking off my lists, I read these five great articles this week:
1) It's For You, Teacher Tom is a sweet reflection in the true meaning of gift giving, as observed with preschoolers.
2) If I Do Something Bad, Will You Still Love Me? by Amy Turn Sharp makes me feel all funny inside. She can do that with the shortest stories and I am always amazed.
3) The Chicken In The Snow is Lil's latest blog post. She wrote the comic after we saw a little snowfall and wondered how our chicken Austra must feel.
4) Alex pointed out the Most Popular Photography Tips, Tricks and Hacks post by Lifehacker. I hope to find some time to dig through all the ideas soon.
5) I was thrilled to see my name among the Charcutepalooza Semi-Finalists list. I am so appreciative of those who followed along and supported my meaty writing. If you liked my posts, click through to some of the other sites - I'm among some amazing bloggers!
Did you read anything great this week?
My final Charcutepalooza post, on the topic of showing off, takes the form of two family stories.
Origins of the Sweetheart
Once upon a time in 13th century Europe, lived Devorguilla of Galloway. Devorguilla was a woman of substance (i.e. wealthy land owner) whose parents arranged her marriage to John de Baliol.
Read more of the Baliol family history on Tom Baillieul's website if you wish - it's pretty fascinating stuff! Tom, Alex's father, also painted and graciously allowed me to use the Devorguilla/John de Baliol crest on the right.
When John died in 1269, Devorguilla embalmed his heart and enshrined in a decorative ivory box to accompany her everywhere. Legend has it that Devorguilla had this heart seated at the opposite head of her dinner table and donated John's portion of the meal to the hungry.
History shows that Devorguilla likely coined the term 'sweetheart' through her dedication to John even after his death. In 1290, she was buried with John's heart at a Cistercian monastery she founded with the name 'Sweetheart Abbey'.
Consumption of the Sweet Heart
703 years after the death of Devorguilla, her descendant Alex Baillieul was born. Alex grew to be an adventurous traveler and cook proud of his Balliol heritage.
Alex's wife Rachel embarked on a year long charcuterie project in 2011, the culmination of which was to be a dish or meal that showed off four styles of meat curing. At the same time as the final Charcutepalooza project assignment, Rachel and Alex intended to attend a CMH Dinner Club with the theme 'show your roots'.
Rachel could think of no 'roots' story better than that of Devorguilla. She knew that she and Alex had to create an edible sweet heart.
Noticing very little fat (or inedible bits), the curing plan became clear: the heart would be cooked slowly in goose and bacon fat. A recipe on From Belly to Bacon confirmed that confit is an appropriate technique for this unusual cut of meat.
When tender, 12 hours after cooking, Alex cooled the heart in the fat. To serve it, he sliced the muscle into thin pieces and seared them in a hot pan. Rachel prepared a rosemary honey drizzle to garnish the sweet heart.
Rachel and Alex ultimately were unable to attend the CMH dinner club. Instead they served sweet heart, fermented Spanish-style chorizo, duck prosciutto, squirrel rilletes, homemade cornichons, and sour cherry preserves on a charcuterie platter for Thanksgiving with extended family, retelling the story of Devorguilla.
Adventurous diners were surprised at the luxurious heart. It was beefy and rich with melt-in-your-mouth texture. Lil declared it "better than hamburger". Devorguilla's namesake, the big hound Devie, heartily approved of the dish, complaining only that she did not get more pieces as treats.
Sweet heart, a dish honoring an ancient relative with the ancient art of charcuterie, was the perfect ending to a year of cured meat.
Final Relfections
I, Rachel, entered the Charcutepalooza challenge with a fair amount of meat curing experience. Any fears of raw meat, botulism, icky meat casings, and expensive investments had already been overcome at the beginning of 2011. Instead, I took on Charcutepalooza as a lens through which to explore food writing and expose more people to the dark secrets of the meat hanging in my basement.
I attempted to record each challenge in a unique way - I told fiction, humor and non-fiction stories, shared new and interpreted recipes, showed off charcuterie in pictures and video, and opined on marriage, meat sourcing, squirrel and vegetarianism. Some of these posts were quite a stretch for my skills and patience but I advanced to spread the love of cured meat.
There is a fabulous trip to France awaiting one of the Charcutepalooza participants. I do not envy Cathy and Kim who must judge the entries. Fortunately, I feel like a winner already because this challenge has strengthened my confidence as a writer and home cook. It even convinced my family that heart is a sweeeeeeet meat.
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Sweet Heart (Beef Heart Confit with Rosemary Honey) Makes: 50+ appetizer servings Time: 12 hours cooking, 48 hours infusion for honey
1/2 cup local lightly-flavored honey 1 stalk fresh rosemary
1 beef heart (4-5 pounds of meat) salt 2-3 quarts of goose, pork, or duck lard (we used a mix of all three)
1. Fold rosemary stalk to fit into the bottom of a half pint jar. 2. Cover rosemary with honey. Put a lid on the jar and set aside at room temperature for 2 or more days, until infusion reaches your desired taste. 3. Salt beef heavily inside and outside of the heart cavity. Chop into large pieces as necessary to fit in an oven-safe pan or pot. 4. Liquefy lard by heating it on the stove top. 5. Pour fat over the heart until all parts of the meat are covered. 6. Place in a 200 degree oven for 12 hours until meat is tender. 7. Cool the heart while submerged in fat. Under refrigeration, the heart keeps indefinitely. 8. For service, remove heart from fat by reheating on the stove top and straining off the fat when it is liquefied. (Fat may be reserved for future use.) 9. Slice the heart into pieces 1/8 inch thick. 10. Heat a cast iron skillet over high heat. Quickly sear heart slices and place on a bed of arugula or other lettuce on a platter. Drizzle with rosemary honey.
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The eleventh Charcutepalooza challenge is curing. Alex and I have cured and dried many meats including saucisson sec, fermented chorizo, and coppa. I asked my daughter Lillian to complete this challenge with me. She's been around hanging meat for most of her life. Curing requires minimal skill and can be left for days at a time, perfect for the distractable mind of a six year old. Watch how Lil cures lardo:
While the lardo cured and dried, our family began reading Columbus-native Jeff Smith's iconic juvenile comic series Bone. One character in the book, an adversarial rat creature, is so mesmerized by quiche that he wants to cook the protagonist Bones into quiche, dreams about quiche, and even argues so adamantly about quiche that the Bones repeatedly escape capture. For the rest of the series, the Bones call the quiche-loving, negligent soldiers 'stupid, stupid rat creatures'.
Alas, our lardo-making daughter did not like the quiche. Alex and I, however, think the the stupid rat creatures were right on: quiche is a great way to enjoy cured meat.
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Stupid Rat Creature Quiche Makes: 6 Time: 20 minutes preparation, 40-50 minutes baking
4 ounces lardo, diced, plus several slices for garnish if desired 5 eggs, beaten 3/4 cup whole milk 1/2 teaspoon salt 10 grinds fresh black pepper 1 cup shredded cheddar single pie crust (my recipe here)
1. Preheat oven to 350 degrees F. 2. Cook lardo in a skillet until lightly browned, drain fat. 3. In a mixing bowl, beat together eggs, milk, salt and pepper. 4. Line a 9-inch quiche or pie pan with crust. Tuck under edges and finish with a fork or fingers. 5. Scatter lardo and cheese on the bottom of the crust. 6. Pour egg mix over the top. 7. Bake in oven for 40-50 minutes or until top is browned. 8. Cut into six slices and serve.
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This post is a part of the year-long Charcutepalooza challenge. Read below for our other meat-curing adventures and reflections.
Modern Mistletoe: Meat, Marriage, & Duck Prosciutto Pizza Waste Not, Want Not Squirrel Rillettes English Pork Pie Photojournal Almost All-Ohio Mouselline How to Make Hot Dogs Like a Girl Mint Lamb Sausage Inspired by Jorgensen Farms Taco Truck Chorizo Sopito Red’s Canadian Bacon or Why I Had to Kill a Pig To Eat Meat Again The Story of the Rachel Salt Cure Old and New Cider Syrup Bacon
Added to Simple Lives Thursday.
I recently mentioned on twitter that having the first meat of the season hanging in the basement made me feel like our house was a home again. Someone (who are you? I can't find the tweet now!) replied "It's modern mistletoe!"
That got me to thinking about how meat curing is a tasty metaphor for my nearly-eleven-year-long marriage to Alex.
Curing meat takes time and attention from both parties in our house. We help each other to procure the ingredients, turn the meat in cure, and check it as it dries.
Some couples like to have independent hobbies but we like being in each other's business. Even before I ate meat, I assisted Alex with charcuterie because it's a fascinating hobby.
Meat curing and marriage benefit from a healthy dose of humor. Much of making bacon (or duck prosciutto in this case) is icky work - there's raw meat, mildly-toxic salt, and the possibility of insects being attracted to the drying meat. The cure for the gross parts of curing is to laugh. We make jokes (sausage is especially good for word play), gently tease, and sometimes try to drip meat juice on a spouse during a photo shoot. It's all good fun.
When meat is done curing, we cook up creative dishes together. In the case of the duck prosciutto, we added it to homemade pizza. Alex made the dough and I popped open a jar of my home-canned tomato sauce. We added a pile of arugula and mozzarella before topping the 'za with thin prosciutto slices and a grate of Parmesan.
Alex and I enjoyed the pizza with a glass of wine and candle on the table in the company of our daughter Lil (who also served as the photographer for the three portraits above). We savored the from-scratch food we made together.
Curing meat challenges us to work together, listen to each other, and enjoy the finer things in life. Meat IS our modern mistletoe, the object under which we find love.
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Duck Prosciutto Pizza Makes: 1 12-inch pizza Time: 2 hours dough, 20 minutes assembly, 7-10 minutes cooking
1/4 recipe homemade pizza dough 1/4 cup tomato sauce 3 ounces fresh arugula 1/2 cup shredded mozzarella cheese 2 ounces duck prosciutto, sliced as thinly as possible 1/4 cup freshly grated Parmesan cheese
1. Heat oven to 450 degrees F with a baking stone on center rack. 2. Make a thin circle from the dough and place on a cornmeal dusted pizza peel or back of a cookie sheet. 3. Top pizza with a bit of tomato sauce, then arugula and mozzarella cheese. 4. Arrange duck prosciutto and top with Parmesan. 5. Transfer pizza to the baking stone. 6. Bake for 7-10 minutes until cheese is melted and slightly brown. Remove from oven, let rest 1-2 minutes, cut, and serve.
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This post is a part of the year-long Charcutepalooza challenge. Read below for our other meat-curing adventures and reflections.
Waste Not, Want Not Squirrel Rillettes English Pork Pie Photojournal Almost All-Ohio Mouselline How to Make Hot Dogs Like a Girl Mint Lamb Sausage Inspired by Jorgensen Farms Taco Truck Chorizo Sopito Red’s Canadian Bacon or Why I Had to Kill a Pig To Eat Meat Again The Story of the Rachel Salt Cure Old and New Cider Syrup Bacon