Porchetta NYC

Yes, I'm one of those people who takes pictures of their food when eating out.

"Porchetta" is a little storefront in the East Village that Nicole and I have been wanting to try for a while. I remember doing an internet search one day, figuring there must be some establishment in the U.S. that does a version of this specialty. Lo and behold, in the East Village, where there is such a great variation of niche foodie joints, there is such a place. The first time we made it down there the unthinkable happened--they were "out of pork". Well, not really because they had a rich, salty pork ragu that we tried instead, along with some potatoes and roasted brussels sprouts. But it meant we had to venture back in pursuit of their namesake.

Porchetta is quintessential street food in central Italy. A whole pig or piglet, deboned and organs removed, seasoned with garlic, fennel and a variation of other herbs and spices depending on the purveyor and/or local customs. It is then slow roasted, laid out on a table, sliced crosswise and served warm on simple rolls. You'll usually find the porchetta man selling his lunch meat from a little truck in or just outside a busy piazza. The ears and jowls though are off limits to most tourists, reserved for the town's senior paesans.

To me there are three essential elements of a good slice of porchetta; tender meat with distinct tones of wild fennel and garlic, a layer of very soft palatable fat, and an outside of perfectly crispety crunchy skin. Taking a bite all three textures intermingle, amplified by the occasional munch of coarse salt.

So when Nicole had to go to the city for a wedding dress fitting last Sunday we had an excuse to go back. This time...we were in luck! They had porchetta, succulent hunk upon succulent hunk, lying oozing in the deli case with that distinct cross-hatch patterned, deeply colored and caramelized skin in all its porcine splendor. Considering the dearth we happened upon last time, part of me wanted to snatch a whole slab and be off to the pigeon races.

Porchetta NYC doesn't actually use whole pigs; they take a skin-on pork belly (where slab bacon and pancetta come from) and wrap it around a pork loin. The end result is similar to the original concept, but requires less preparation and cooking. Judging though by the shape of the bone sticking out the side of a piece just out of the oven, I'd say they wrapped the bellies around a pork butt, not a loin. Even better if you're concerned about being short-changed on pork fat.

The menu is small as you can imagine. Porchetta comes on bread or a platter, with sides of things like potatoes, simply cooked beans and greens that change daily. In the time it takes for McDonalds to get your order ready these guys are serving up something speciale. Ok, maybe a little longer than that.

Sometimes I find garlic flavor in roasted meats to be oppressive (garlic burp) if not cooked long enough for it to turn sweet, but theirs was mellow with the fennel pollen really standing out. The meat was chopped and tender, the fat present but not abundant, spiked with squares of skin here and there. Texturally it didn't make for quite the cadence that I've found in Italy, but all the elements were there. The bread was ciabatta rather than the roll you'll traditionally find, and it worked just as well.

As with the last time we were there we ordered a side of roasted potatoes and crispy ends. The potatoes are roasted in the fat and drippings from the meat, along with scraps of pork, the crap cooked out of them to yield salty bits of serious crunchiness...they might be better than bacon, seriously.

We ate almost in silence, save the initial consensus that it was worth the trips. With no condiments (sometimes people put mayo or mustard on) it was still moist enough that no beverage was necessary to wash it down. When we were finished, we weren't stuffed but very content. Yes, it would take a while for our bodies to process that skin and flush out the tablespoons of salt, but we were up and at 'em with little or no tummy rubbing or "whew" ing that accompanies more gluttonous animal fat endeavors.

If you find yourself in this part of town, check it out. Or put in on your list of ethnic specialties, for which there are so many destinations throughout NYC. The locale is tiny; not big enough to dine out over several courses, just enough space to eat and go, but that's the point.

Porchetta NYC is located at 110 East 7th Street.

Posole or Pozole

I'm not an expert on mexican cuisine, but judging from the number of variations I've seen of this dish I gather it's pretty ubiquitous in some form from region to region. And spelled a couple of ways too. I saw a version of Posole rojo once and the deep red broth with little bits of hominy bobbing up made it look pretty appetizing. It's often made with pork, but I when I thought of this I had a roasted chicken lying around from a family gathering the night before, so in it went.

It's an easy soup and comes together very quickly if you use pre-cooked meat. Aside from the hominy and the dried chiles, neither of which are expensive, the ingredients are probably in your pantry already. The hominy have a nice plumpness, chewy texture, and give the soup a corny tortilla flavor. The base is a vibrant peppery one making you anticipate a burst of heat, but instead it mellows out. Of course, that could change if you wanted the heat.

Ingredients:
1 3-5 lb. chicken, cooked, meat pulled off bones and shredded by hand
2 16 oz. cans of hominy, white or golden, drained
1 large onion, diced
1 clove plus 2 cloves garlic
4-5 large dried chile peppers (I used New Mexico chiles, very mild but go with a hotter variety if you want)
1 teaspoon chile powder
1 teaspoon cumin
1 teaspoon oregano, mexican if you have it
1/2 tube tomato paste
48 oz. (6 cups) low sodium chicken broth or water
12 oz. light beer
5 tablespoons olive oil
optional: hot pepper flakes


Optional garnishes:
raw onion, diced
cilantro
lime juice
queso fresco
bell pepper, diced
tortilla chips


Equipment:
Dutch oven or heavy bottom pot for making soup
blender
Pot for heating broth


Begin by bringing the broth or water up to a boil, then lower to a simmer. Place the dried chiles, stems removed, into the blender with 1 clove of garlic, and then pour enough of the heated liquid over to cover them and let them steep 10-20 minutes. Blend everything together to liquefy.


Heat the olive oil in a pan over medium low heat, and when hot add the onions and garlic and sweat them 10 minutes or so, just until they brown slightly. Add the chile powder, oregano and cumin and let cook 2 minutes. Add the tomato paste and let cook 3 minutes until it turns a rusty color. Deglaze with the beer. Add the pureed chile liquid and half the broth and bring to a boil, then lower to a simmer.



After 20 minutes add the chicken and hominy, and more of the broth to find the soupiness or thickness that you prefer. Cook another 20 minutes, season to taste with salt, pepper and hot pepper flakes if you want more heat, and serve with optional garnishes.

HomeFood Italy

The other day Asher "softy" Levine forwarded me an article from the NY Times about an organization in Italy that arranges for travelers to dine in the homes of native italians called Homefood. "Cesarine", or skilled home cooks, usually female, deemed by the Bologna-based organization as having the requisite understanding of regional italian cuisine host people in their homes for dinner parties. Some are organized in advance and travelers sign up on a first-come basis, but there's also the option to schedule your own private meal with a Cesarina and their family.

So, like making reservations at a restaurant, you can find the nearest Cesarina when you're traveling in Italy, and schedules permitting, have a true italian meal with perfect strangers. The concept sounds bizarre for an american, but reading about this was a revelation for me. I'd heard about it a while back, but thought of it more as a localized movement than anything else. Apparently though this movement has grown into a cottage tourist industry, a kind of SlowFood offshoot meant to preserve and promote traditional cuisine and culture.

My interest is stepping outside the typical tourist itinerary to be welcomed into the home of gracious strangers who are intrinsically motivated to serve food of their heritage. Whereas we typically think of going to a restaurant when we want a special meal, italians stay at home where someone's grandmother is always the best cook. The cities have largely been written off by them in terms of culinary merit; it's in the countryside, as close to the land or sea from which the ingredients are sourced that you'll find the best food.

What you say? How can you have a bad meal in Italy? Doesn't everyone know how to cook? Well, no, and besides that they know who they're preparing food for in Piazza Navona or just outside Piazza San Marco in Venice. If I'm hungry while walking down a busy street and see crowded restaurants with waiters standing at the door, calling to tourists to come on in, I keep going. That's not to say they don't have good restaurants in the cities, or that you can't stumble across a gem, but I can't take that risk anymore, I have to do the research.

Knowing that Nicole and I have two weeks in Italy for our honeymoon, I figure we'll give this a shot at least once. We'll be in Toscana in a villa for four nights, the perfect setting to seek out one of these matriarchs who will fatten us up on age old recipes and locally sourced specialties. Do we bring the wine though? I guess that's the least we can do, although we might be humiliated if we don't bring a bottle made from grapes within walking distance of their paese.

The cost for a foreigner is a temporary fee of about 3.50 euros per month per person, 25 to 40 euros per person for a scheduled event, and 55 euros per person for a private meal. So you'll spend roughly what you'd spend in a restaurant for two people, but the point is this is probably more of an experience than you'll get spending that much to dine in a city or picturesque hilltown restaurant.

Oven Roasted Short Ribs

What I like about short ribs is the the homey pot roast-esque flavor, the fibrous but fork tenderness and the ample fat rendered by substantial cooking. These ones were rubbed the night before roasting and cooked in two stages in the oven. The rub was composed primarily of chile powder and pimentón a.k.a. spanish paprika, which made my hands smell like bbq potato chips after I massaged the spice and oil paste into the meat. Then I rubbed it all over my face. Pimentón is nothing like standard paprika, which is almost tasteless. I used a "dulce" strength for this dish, which imbued the meat with a little kick without making anyone sweat.

I served these ribs with a simple contorno of sauteed mushrooms and onions, and we drank a dark ruby, tannic Sagrantino di Montefalco from Colpetrone. Fatty, simply roasted meat often conjures up thoughts of Umbria, so it gave me an excuse to whip out this 2004 bottle we'd been saving for just such a meal. Perhaps it could have aged a little longer, but it still did the trick.

Feeds 6 Hungry People

Ingredients:

About 10 lbs. of beef short ribs (sounds like a lot, but remember those bones's)

3 tablespoons chile powder

1 1/2 tablespoons pimentón

1 1/2 tablespoons fresh garlic, minced

1 1/2 tablespoons salt

1 tablespoon black pepper

Pinch or 2 of sugar

about 1/4 cup olive oil

Optional: 15 year or more aged balsamic to drizzle on the ribs when serving

Equipment:

2 rimmed baking sheets or pans at least an inch deep, or 4 if you don't want to clean

wire racks to suspend ribs over baking sheets

Tin Foil

Combine the various powders, the salt, pepper and garlic in a small bowl and add the oil to form a paste. Rub this into each rib and transfer them to resealable plastic bags, then put them in the fridge overnight.

Preheat the oven to 325º F, or 300º F if using convection. Place the ribs on wire racks suspended over the baking sheets, and pour enough water in the pans to cover the bottom. Place the pans in the oven and cook for 1 hour 30 minutes, at which point a lot of fat should be rendered out and the ribs well browned.

Remove from the oven and put directly on 2 new (or the first ones cleaned) baking sheets. Cover with foil and cook another 2 hours. Let cool for 10-20 minutes, serve. You can remove the meat from the bones if you'd prefer, but for my purposes the bones stayed on.

Drizzle the aged balsamic on the ribs if you like, but we didn't feel the need.