(Not So) Secret Ingredient

I have to give hat tips to the New York Times and the Food Network for the wonderfulness of this dish. Coinciding with my search for the perfect taco in California, NYTimes.com posted a delicious looking entry that could very well win top honors. So when I returned to NYC, I gathered all the ingredients from Trader Joe's and drew up battle plans. The second nod goes out to The Food Porn Network. Unless the Rachel Maddow show is on, it's always at low volume in the background. I think I was updating my Facebook status for the umpteenth time one day when I overheard someone mention cocoa powder. For once, my short-term memory served me flawlessly, because when I racked my brain for a new recipe for the portion of pork loin leftover after the Times' tacos, a light bulb went on, and the rest as they say is... Well see for yourself.

Braised Mexican Pork - a Blog O. Food recipe

1½ lb pork loin roast 2 Tbsp cooking oil 1 medium white onion, cut in half and thinly sliced 3 cloves garlic, finely chopped 1 tsp ground Ancho chili pepper 1 tsp ground Chipotle chili pepper 1 tsp ground cumin 1 Tbsp cocoa powder 1 can (14.5 oz) diced tomatoes, drained Chicken stock, enough to cover pork loin half way Salt & freshly ground black pepper

By now, my loyal minions, you should have all mastered the rudiments of braising. If not, shame on you! But I'm here to help.

Sear the pork loin on both sides in a little cooking oil (bacon fat for us shameless Mexicans) in a large heavy sauté pan or Dutch oven, anything with a tight-fitting lid. Don't fuss with the cut of meat. Place it in the hot oil, then leave it alone. Allow it to develop some good color.

Remove the pork from the pan, reduce your heat slightly and sweat your onions, stirring occasionally. At the point where they're gonna start caramelizing, add the garlic and cook for one more minute, just until the garlic is fragrant.

Here's where the alchemy begins. Bump up the heat again, add the tomatoes, spices and cocoa, and let everything cook quite through - seven to eight minutes I'd say - before adding any cooking liquid. Stir the contents of the pan, but don't worry if the bottom of the pan starts to get sticky and brown. That's where the magic lies.

Jack the heat up to high and add the chicken stock. Use a wooden spoon to loosen up all the fond (the brown stuff) on the bottom of the pan. You're releasing intense flavors by doing so. Nestle the pork in the center of the broth and vegetables, reduce the heat to it's absolute lowest*, cover and simmer for hours.

Two hours in, I flipped the meat over, gave everything a gentle shake, covered and simmered for another couple hours. By the end, the meat needed little in the way of persuasion to fall apart of its own accord. Just for kicks, I cracked the lid on the pan to let the sauce reduce a bit.

I had some extra red bell peppers lying about, taking up space. I tortured them over an open flame until the entire outter skin was charred black. Adding insult to injury, I smothered them in a brown paper bag for 10 minutes so that their 3rd degree burns would peel right off, leaving nothing but sweet, tender flesh for me to eat with my pork. I'm a monster, I know.

You have to be a little careful with Mexican spices and  hard experience is really the only teacher when it comes to combinations and proportions. I can caution you that Chipotle chili has an INTENSE smoky flavor, with the ability to overpower just about anything it's added to, so take care there. With the fieriness of the Ancho powder, some tempering influence was called for. Hence the cocoa powder. It was just the counterbalancing force I was looking for, and elevated my chili sauce to new heights. Characteristically, I was the first to compliment the chef. Now it's your turn!

Thanks for taking the time - Blog O. Food

*Most gas ranges cannot achieve real simmering temperatures without the flame going out. I use the low-tech method of creating a sort of halo with a piece of aluminum foil wadded into a strand and curved into a circle. I put it between the heat and the sauté pan, That elevates the food away from the heat, thus reducing the temperature. It's failsafe.

Carnitas Tacos

When I was growing up, I would bug my parents to take me to the beach every weekend. I just always wanted to be in the water. Whenever I was successful in convincing them to make the trip, my stepmother would braise pork the night before for lunch the next day. She'd stuff shredded meat, refried beans and salsa into heated flour tortillas and wrap them tighter than any machine could ever hope to achieve. On the big day, I would body surf for hours, duck diving the bigger waves, while my dad would float on his back just beyond the swell, the only things visible being his face, belly and toes. He reminded me of a big log in the water, perfectly horizontal. When Anita could convince me to get out of the water for lunch, saltwater dripping from my sinuses, burritos warmed by the sun would be waiting. Nothing tasted better than her pork. I find myself thinking of her excellent cooking and wishing I had paid just a little more attention while she was still alive.

So this weekend, with picnic baskets on every square inch of beach sand and park grass, I took a stab an replicating my stepmother's kitchen. You've all seem me braise. This time I pulled out all the stops. I didn't stop with slow cooked pork roast though. I shredded the meat and crisped it through on a skillet before wrapping in a soft warm corn tortilla with a dollop of sour cream and a roasted spring onion. Anita, I think, would have been proud.

Braising 101: Sear meat on all sides, then remove from pot. Reduce heat and sweat onions, garlic and dried chilies until just starting to caramelize. Add  spices: chili powder, cumin, and cayenne pepper. Return meat to the Dutch oven and add enough cooking liquid to come half way up the sides of the roast. For a rich full flavor I added red wine, chicken broth and a can of whole tomatoes in their juice. Cover and simmer away until meat separates easily.

I braised my pork until there was almost no liquid left in the pot. I then strained the meat and reserved what remained of the reduced sauce. I let the sauce cool and skimmed off the layer of oil that rose to the top. The remaining reduction I used in a sauté pan when I crisped up my shredded pork. As the pork got crispy, I heated tortillas and seared whole spring onions. The tacos were simplicity themselves: meat, onion, a little sour cream. The crust on the tender pork lent a crunchy texture. The sauce reduction was rich, complex and delicious. The only thing better than getting to eat these tacos is sharing them with friends. So come on over!

Thanks for taking the time - Blog O. Food

It's Not the Method, It's the Madness

It has been one of those weeks*, and by the time I checked the kitchen cupboards, it was already Sunday and I was just too exhausted to even think about walking to the market, let alone braving the roads. So whatever was in the pantry was gonna have to do. And that's the real beauty for any aspiring cook: learning to improvise.

By force of habit I took something out of the freezer to thaw Saturday morning. On Sunday morning, I learned what it was. Pork was once again on the menu. I had no idea what I was going to with it, but was inspired by Hollywood to be a leaf on the wind. I had onion and garlic of course. There were roasted red peppers and fresh thyme in the fridge. I had a few Yukon Golds and some canned olives. There was plenty to choose from on "spice island", and I knew I couldn't go too far wrong with a slow-cooked sauce.

By now, everyone should know how to braise a piece of inexpensive meat: season with salt & pepper, brown on all sides in a Dutch oven with a little hot olive oil, add liquid and simmer for several hours. Here's where the madness comes in. Follow your nose. Sniff your spices. Which ones go well together, and which one clash? Oregano and basil say Italian, thyme and rosemary bespeak French. Cumin, allspice and coriander speak of faraway shores.

So many people let their fear of failure prevent them from even making an effort. What a shame. Get in there. Develop some chops. Trust your own instincts. Believe me, everyone screws up, spectacularly even. Learn from your mistakes and keep at it. Anyone can cultivate sound kitchen skills, it just takes a desire to learn and a willingness to try.

No shopping list required. I basically used what was on hand. A 3lb boneless pork roast, roasted red peppers, black olives, Yukon Gold potatoes, herbs, Marsala wine and spices.

Brown seasoned meat in a couple table spoons of olive oil. Pork tends to be lean and dry now. If you have the time, brine your meat overnight in plain ol' salt water. We'll talk about brining liquids in Cooking 201.

Rule of thumb: any great sauce is gonna start with chopped, cooked onion. In this case red onion...

... and garlic. Everyone has walked into a house where onion and garlic are cooking. The smell is heavenly.

After the meat has browned, sweat onions for 5 minutes, add garlic and cook another 60 seconds. Then toss in the rest of your ingredients, in this case, potatoes and peppers and warm through.

Return roast to the pot, add liquid and bring to a boil. Water is fine, vegetable or chicken stock is better. A dry white wine is best of all. Let your nose decide which spices to add. I liked the exotic promise of cumin and allspice.

Reduce heat to low, cover pot and let simmer for several hours. Flip the roast every hour. The meat will talk to you. When it falls apart without any effort, it's done. Isn't my azure Dutch oven beautiful? Suck it, Williams-Sonoma!

Look at the difference in color after a couple hours of simmering. I am not cooking here, the alchemy is happening on its own.

Four hours later, I sat down to this. The pork just flaked on my fork. The sauce was rich and exotic, peppery and sweet. I am ashamed to admit I made a pig of myself.

I will beat this into you if I have to. Cooking does not have to be some big production or a dreaded chore. You're reading this blog, presumably you like to eat and possible prepare your own meals. Discover the joy of putting something delicious and pretty on the table. Make this your motto: "I like a cook who smiles out loud when he tastes his own work. Let God worry about your modesty; I want to see your enthusiasm." -Robert Farrar Capon

Thanks for taking the time - Blog O. Food

* I put in about 70 hours at work, pulled an all-nighter Thursday and, oh, U2 performed live at the office Friday morning.

A Mexican Getaway...

...Without Leaving Home. I haven't been home or not hung over (or both) for several weekends now, so I've been looking forward to a clear-eyed Saturday getting reacquainted with my kitchen. I even went so far as to remove some meat from the freezer before work Friday morning enabling me to hit the ground running without impinging on my pot of coffee and morning papers.

It's been a Mexican-Free Zone for an alarming stretch of time now and something simply has to be done about it. So, since I'm purposefully and blissfully alone this weekend, why not another installment in the solo meals series. Today: spicy pork fajitas and a chili corn side. Although the braising takes several hours, the prep work is a snap and after that, it's pretty much a hands-free work environment. In fact, I'm juggling iTunes, the Buick Invitational, the New Yorker and this blog entry while the pork is slowly breaking down into its tender goodliness.

My last pork entry was a honey & mustard-glazed roast, and I admit to being something of a student of the hot/sweet school, so this time it was a chili and brown sugar coating. Why brown sugar? Well, the molasses and trace minerals added to unrefined sugar undergo mysterious transformations in the presence of amino acids (protein) and all those wonderful pork juices. Don't ask me to elaborate, I can't. Let's just say it tastes bloody good, and leave it at that.

So I started with an inventory of the cupboards and, as usual, went with what I had on hand: onion, garlic, olive oil, white wine vinegar, chili powder, brown sugar and some other spices. I played around with measurements that looked right (I hate measuring, but will provide estimates later in the post), tossed everything into the food processor and broke it all down into a chunky paste.

The paste got rubbed into the pork roast, and worked into the meat thoroughly. I set the roast into a Dutch oven with one cup each of chicken stock and white wine. Covered, the pot went into a 300° pre-heated oven for four hours. Every hour, I turned the meat and kept the level of the liquid from completely evaporating.

After three-and-a-half hours, I started checking the roast for tenderness. Once it began to fall completely apart at the slightest touch, I removed the roast from the oven and let it rest loosely covered for 15 minutes.

While the meat rested, I moved the Dutch oven to the stovetop and reduced the juices and residual liquid over a medium low flame. While the sauce reduced, I heated sweet corn in a Tbsp of olive oil for about ten minutes. I added some minced roasted red peppers, chili powder, cumin and some red pepper flake, since I had no cayenne in the house. After about five minutes, I tasted for salt and removed from the heat.

The pork shredded effortlessly and needed no dressing short of some of the reduced broth from the Dutch oven. It remained juicy throughout the meal. There was a perfect balance of sweet and spice. A Mexican futbol goal!

Heap shredded pork on a serving platter and decorate with lime wedges. Serve with warm flour tortillas and sour cream or pico de gallo, or tomatillo salsa. Whatever you have on hand. If I had had company, I would have grilled whole scallions to serve with the pork and made fried plantain strips to serve on the side. Pile the juicy pork in a tortilla and add your favorite topping before wrapping it up and eating with your hands.

Only because I thought the label was cool, I picked up a Longboard Vineyards 2006 Sauvignon Blanc from the Russian River Valley. It was a great food wine. The spices in the meat and corn complimented subtleties in the bouquet and taste. Here were my tasting notes without and then with food: Nose: floral soap, herbal tea Mouth: dry, acidic, green apple and grapefruit flavors. Balanced finish. With food: Herbs come through in the bouquet. Citric complexities in the finish. Tartness without the pucker. Sorry for the shorthand, everyone has their own way of articulating the ephemeral. But it was a fine wine with spicy food. Longboard is a bit of an upstart with minor touchy-feely aspirations. Their website is good for a chuckle or two, especially if you've grown up around surfing. I wonder if sometimes I sound as big a tool!

As promised:

Brown sugar and chili paste: (for a 3-4 lb pork roast) 1 tsp dried oregano 1 tsp ground cumin 1 tsp chili powder 1½ Tbsp white wine vinegar 4 cloves garlic 4 Tbsp olive oil ¼-cup dark brown sugar 1 medium yellow onion Pulse all ingredients in a food processor until the onion is broken down and a thick paste forms. Rub all over your pork roast.

Chili corn: 16 oz sweet corn kernels ¼ tsp ground cumin ¼ tsp cayenne pepper 1 tsp chili powder 1 Tbsp olive oil ¼-cup roasted red pepper, finely minced. Heat oil in a small saucepan over medium heat. Add corn and heat through for about 10 minutes. Add the spices and peppers and cook through for five minutes. Season to taste and remove from heat.

Any guesses on Sunday's menu? Shredded pork tostadas with black beans and queso fresco!

Thanks for taking the time - Blog O. Food

My Baby's Got Sauce

Braise - To cook by browning in fat, then simmering in a small quantity of liquid in a covered container.

Well that was clinical, and not at all indicative of the loving process used to take a tough cut of meat and turn it into a succulent, flavor-infused masterpiece. But it's succinct. The Devil, they say though, is in the details. With a little care, forethought and some time, you can take that inexpensive cut of meat and serve a dish to be proud of.

Take pork, for example. It is my favorite meat, but is often times so lean now, that it can be very difficult not to over-cook or dry out just about any way you prepare it. Braising is an ideal solution. I think that's why I serve a lot of pork on the weekends when I can take my time, prep early then sit back at let a low flame do all the work.

You've all seen my baked apple disaster now. Here is what preceded it.

Early Sunday morning (after my coffee, of course), I took a pork loin I had thawed over night, seasoned it with chili salt and fresh ground pepper and then seared on all sides in a hot Dutch oven with about 3 tablespoons of good olive oil.

It took about 15 minutes to brown the entire cut of meat. After searing, I removed the pork and poured off all but 1 Tbsp of the oil.

Lowering the heat under the pot, I cooked 1 sliced onion until it just started to brown and then added 4 cloves of chopped garlic and cooked another 1 minute. I scorched 1½ Tbsp of tomato paste in the pot and then deglazed the fond with white wine.

I returned the pork to the Dutch oven and brought the liquid to a boil. Lowering the heat to low, I covered the pot and set a timer for 4 hours. Occasionally I would jostle the pork loin making sure it wasn't sticking to the bottom of the pot.

At the 4-hour mark, I sautéed some button mushrooms in a little oil and butter until most of the moisture was cooked out of them. You don't want to disturb the mushrooms too much while they're browning, just give a periodic toss. The browned mushrooms and a 6oz can of sliced black olives went into the Dutch oven with the pork and the rich sauce.

About 40 minutes later, I steamed some brown rice in vegetable stock with 2 Tbsp of butter and a splash of soy sauce. While the rice was steaming, I cracked the Dutch oven lid ajar so that some of the liquid could evaporate from the sauce.

The pork separated effortlessly without the need of slicing. But it is was the sauce everyone remarked upon. The rich tomato paste was softened by the wine. The olives and mushrooms added earthy tones and texture. Finally the collagens and natural gelatin in the broken-down connective tissue enriched the body of the sauce, and everything was absorbed into the meat. My buddy Matt O'Food, a purveyor of fine sauces, would kill for what I was able to do with that braised pork loin. He'll be surprised to learn I still have a trick or two up my sleeve.

Vino? How about an old vine Zinfandel from the Central Coast, a Montepulciano, or even a super Tuscan for that matter? Something hearty, chewy, fruit forward and velvety in the mouth.

This meal basically prepared itself. I seasoned some meat, sliced an onion and some mushrooms, stirred a pot occasionally, and massacred a dessert. Plan ahead, and you'll wow 'em at the next Sunday supper too!

Thanks for taking the time - Blog O. Food