June is busting out all over. The delicate pink and white blossoms of spring have given way to lush peonies and roses and lilies. After a momentary blip last week, there is no more no sign of the sultry, damp days ahead when dogs will lie panting in the shade and we will press sweating glasses of lemonade to our fevered brows. Today all is bright green hills and turquoise skies. The kind of weather when thoughts turn to fresh salads. And the grill, of course. Summer means grilling. Oh, no! you say But I’m a city dweller. I can relate. I’m a grill widow. Where once I was only in charge of marinating, my hobbled husband has temporarily relinquished his patio post in front of the Weber, leaving me to face down this fiery challenge. For the moment, I have run screaming back to my stove, where it’s possible to make a perfectly acceptable steak. Heat up that cast iron pan really well, buy the best meat available and don’t overcook it. That’s the best advice I can give you. That, and serve it sliced thinly next to a simple salad of arugula and red onion. It’s heaven on a plate.

the best steak is humanely raised and well-marbled

I don’t think I need to go on any more about the importance of buying humanely raised meat, do I? My hope is that you will have found a local source, some small farm that takes good care of its animals. Organic has come to mean less and less, and I don’t think proscribing grass-fed makes any sense either, so just try to know your farmer, or at least your butcher, and learn about where your meat comes from.

My favorite steak is a well-marbled ribeye with the bone in. You really need that fat for juicy flavor. And I feel like the bone imparts extra flavor. To me, this is the most buttery and delicious cut. It requires nothing more than salt and a hot pan (or grill). Although I know tastes vary, I think the best way to eat it is medium-rare. Before cooking, I let my steak sit out so it’s room temperature, and salt it generously.  Then I set a cast-iron pan on the flame and let it heat up for quite a while. You want your steak to sear and get a deep crusty char on the outside, but remain juicy pink and tender within. Note: switch on your stovetop fan and throw open a window, as you will be generating some smoke!

no matter where you do your cooking, you want to get a deep crusty char

If you’re a steak novice, fear not. Nothing could be easier. But you either have to use a thermometer, or learn a simple technique for ascertaining doneness. Heat changes the texture of meat, and this is palpable. As it heats up, the protein strands tighten, causing the meat to firm up. This shrinks it and squeezes the juices out, which is why a rarer steak is preferable; a well-done steak is tougher, firmer and less juicy.

If you’re going to use a thermometer, here are suggested temperatures. But do bear in mind that meat will continue cooking after you take it off the heat, so aim for about 5 degrees lower. It’s essential that you let your steak rest for at least 10 minutes before cutting into it. Trust me, this makes all the difference. Rest the meat on a cooling rack, turning it over in the middle of the resting period. It will help the juices from pooling on the bottom of the meat (and leaking out onto the plate), and distributes the juices evenly throughout.

Here is a guide that explains how to test for doneness by feel. It’s very satisfying to be able to give your steak a poke and understand what’s going on in there. As with everything, practice makes perfect. And remember, you can always throw your steak back to cook a bit more, but once you’ve overcooked it, well…

Rare: 140º

Medium rare: 145F

Medium: 160º

An arugula salad is the perfect cool, crunchy and slightly bitter counterpoint to your hot, fatty steak. Taking a cue from classic steakhouse salads, I like to throw in some red onion. It can be a bit too pungent and aggressive, though, so try soaking your slices in cold water as you prepare your steak. It’s a neat trick that softens their flavor.

photos from saveur magazine

Back from a restful week in Antigua—sadly without G, who is currently climbing palm trees in the Philippines. I went solo to a wonderful Easter lunch at Stephanie’s yesterday. Took lots of photos of the beautiful table and the delicious pork roulade, and then promptly forgot my camera! But I’m sharing it with you nonetheless, recipe and photos courtesy of Saveur. This was perhaps the best pork loin I’ve ever eaten, juicy and flavorful, perfumed with herbs and sauced with a savory onion jus. The pork came from Fleischer’s, a fantastic upstate resource for organic and grass-fed meat. Also on the menu: frisée salad with preserved lemon and asparagus tips; pea soup with tarragon; mashed potatoes; roasted carrots; baked Alaska. On a lark, I made some carrot marshmallows with honey, cumin and chile salt. More about those, and photos, later this week.

butterflying requires a sharp knife and a steady hand

If you don’t want to deal with it, you can get your butcher to butterfly the pork loin for you, but it’s really not that hard. All you’re really doing is creating one flat piece so that you can roll it up.

lay out the string, then the prosciutto

Once you’ve chopped up the ingredients for the herb paste (garlic, rosemary, sage, lemon zest), you smear it on both sides of the loin. As indicated in the photo, above, lay out lengths of butcher’s twine, place slices of prosciutto on top, and then position the rolled loin in the middle.

kitchen string or butcher’s twine helps you tie a nice package

Then you simply tie the prosciutto onto the loin to make a nice, tight bundle. For more explicit instructions and photos, refer to the original recipe here.

Next, you brown the roulade well and then nestle it over a mess of sliced onions before roasting it to a lovely rich brown. Thinly sliced and topped with the onion jus, this makes a homey yet still rather glamorous dish.

ROAST PORK LOIN ROULADE

from Saveur Magazine

serves 8-10

1 lemon

5 tbsp. chopped fresh rosemary

25 fresh sage leaves, minced

12 cloves garlic, finely chopped

4-lb. boneless pork loin, trimmed

Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper, to taste

12 thin center-cut slices prosciutto di Parma (3 oz.)

2 tbsp. extra-virgin olive oil

1 large onion, cut into thick rings

Heat oven to 375˚.

Zest lemon, slice in half, and set aside. Pile zest, rosemary, sage, and garlic on a cutting board; chop together with a knife until combined; set herb mixture aside.

Using a knife, butterfly pork loin. Season both sides with salt and pepper; rub both sides with herb mixture; roll loin. Wrap pork in prosciutto; tie with kitchen twine.

Heat oil in a 12″ skillet over medium-high heat. Cook pork roast, turning occasionally, until browned on all sides, about 12 minutes. Transfer pork to a plate. Nestle onion slices in skillet and pour in 1⁄2 cup water; put pork on top of onions. Roast, basting occasionally with pan juices, until an instant-read thermometer inserted into middle of roast registers 140˚, 45–50 minutes. Transfer pork to a cutting board; let rest for 20 minutes. Slice pork; transfer to a platter along with onions. Squeeze juice of reserved lemon into skillet; whisk. Serve pan juices with the pork and onions.

Passover is coming up next week, and more than one person has already asked me for a good brisket recipe. It’s a classic Jewish holiday dish, especially among the Ashkenazi, perhaps simply because it’s economical and delicious. It’s also incredibly easy to make, and turns out best if you braise it, especially if you’re using a “first cut” which has less fat. Passover, for the goyim among you, commemorates the story of the Exodus, in which the Israelites were freed from slavery in Egypt. Because the Jews had to flee quickly—is there any other way?—matzoh (unleavened bread) is eaten to remind us that there was no time for the bread to rise. This does not explain why brisket, which requires such long cooking, is also on the menu. Beef jerky would really be more like it. Anyway, this recipe comes from Martha Stewart, who is most definitely not of the tribe, but knows her way around a good pot roast.

onions, garlic, chile sauce and ketchup create a rich braising liquid

I love that this is a one-pot meal—if your Dutch oven is big enough to accommodate such a large cut of meat. Mine was not, so I seared it in a big skillet and transferred it to a casserole before baking. Either way is just fine. Once it’s seared on both sides, you whisk together some strongly flavored ingredients—hot coffee, Worcestershire sauce, honey, ketchup, chile sauce, soy sauce and garlic—for a tangy, sweet/sour brew that coats the meat. I added a bunch of sliced onions to this recipe, because I like both the flavor and the body they add to the sauce. I use my own homemade ketchup (still have some left from last summer’s batch) and I encourage you to make some, or at least avoid the high-fructose-corn-syrup-laden major brands in favor of something more artisanal. I did not have chile sauce on hand, so used 1/4 cup spicy Sriracha and a few tablespoons of tomato paste. It came out a bit too hot, so I would go easy on the Sriracha. (I toned it down by adding chicken stock and some tomato sauce.)

sear the meat in a hot pan until it’s nicely browned on both sides

a tangle of onions adds flavor and texture

Once you’ve browned the meat, cook the onions in the fat, scraping up any brown bits. If you’re not using just one pot, you might want to add a splash of water to the onions so none of the good caramelized bits are left on the skillet when you change pans. Then you just lay the meat on the bed of onions, smother the whole thing in sauce, cover it (with a lid or foil) and slide it into the oven. You flip it once, and it’s done in about 3 hours. I’m going to serve mine with some sweet potato pancakes and a big green salad. A little horseradish sauce would be nice with this as well.

photo by Sarah Shatz for Food52

COFFEE-GLAZED ROASTED BRISKET

adapted from Martha Stewart

serves 6

3 pounds humanely raised beef brisket (first-cut)

sea salt and ground pepper

2 tablespoons mild olive oil

1 large yellow onion, peeled and thinly sliced

1/2 cup freshly brewed black coffee

1/2 cup ketchup

1/2 cup chile sauce

1/2 cup honey

1/3 cup Worcestershire sauce

2 garlic cloves, minced

1 tablespoon soy sauce

1 tablespoon Sriracha (hot chile sauce), optional

Preheat oven to 325º.

Season beef brisket with salt and pepper. In a large Dutch oven over high heat, warm oil. Add brisket, fat side down, and cook until well browned on both sides, 4-5 minutes each. Remove brisket to a plate, and add onions, sautéing until golden. Turn off heat and replace brisket on top of onions.

In a small bowl, combine coffee, ketchup, chile sauce, honey, Worcestershire sauce, garlic, soy sauce and Sriracha, if using. Pour over brisket.

Cover and bake in oven, flipping halfway through, until meat shreds easily with a fork, 2 ½-3 hours. Remove from oven. To serve, slice brisket the bias against the grain, drizzle with sauce and pass the extra.

SWEET POTATO PANCAKES

adapted from Jonaz on Food52

serves 5

2 3/4 pounds sweet potatoes

2 tablespoons soy sauce

3/4 cups flour (I use all-purpose gluten-free)

1 teaspoon maple syrup

1 teaspoon sea salt

1/2 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper

a combination of butter and oil, or lard, for pan-frying

Preheat oven to 325º. Roast sweet potatoes until soft, about 1 hour. Remove skin and mash, removing any dark spots.

In a large bowl use your hands to mix mashed potato with soy sauce; do not overmix, or the mixture will get too sticky to work. Add flour, sugar, salt and pepper and mix again with your hands until you a consistency that is soft, even and a bit sticky. If it is watery, add some flour. Do not overmix!

Spoon the batter into a small ziploc bag, and snip off one corner to pipe mixture through.

Heat a heavy, well-seasoned skillet over medium heat and add butter/oil or lard. Pipe 2” pancakes into the skillet, using a spatula to smooth as needed, and fry on both sides until deeply golden brown and crisp.

The snow’s gone but it’s not exactly shirtsleeves weather. My idea of a good time is still hunkering down in front of the fire, or under a duvet. Soon I’ll be donning my linen overalls and running up and down the aisles of Silver Heights Nursery buying scented geranium and heirloom tomato plants. But today I’m not above a good braise. Get ‘em while it’s cold. One last chance to slowly simmer and stew, to watch those lazy bubbles and that mesmerizing cloud of steam. So put aside thoughts of spring things for the moment and haul out your lovingly broken-in Le Cresuet, your stalwart Staub. You’ve just got time for one more stew before the mercury rises. Make it oxtail, the ultimate slow-cooker. Ick, you say. How can you eat a cow’s tail? How can you not? I firmly believe you honor that cow more by making use of its every beefy bit.

beautifully marbled and full of flavor

If you’re still buying factory farmed meat, all “sanitized” and wrapped in its styrofoam tray, chances are you’ll never cross paths with an oxtail. But if you can find a small butcher purveying local, humanely-raised beef, s/he’ll mostly likely be offering you all sorts of interesting bits and bobs, like cheeks and hearts and tails.

Oxtails make a delicious, rich stew full of flavor and nutrition. They are quite fatty, so they need a slow braise and then the broth must be skimmed. It’s easiest if you prepare this dish in advance, chill it, and then remove the fat once it’s solidified. But you can also just skim it off the top in a liquid form if you don’t want to wait.

star anise and fermented black beans

This recipe is sort of an Asian hybrid. It’s reminiscent of pho, the ubiquitous Vietnamese noodle soup, but requires fewer steps, and incorporates Chinese fermented black beans. Also flavored with star anise, garlic and ginger, it delivers big, lip-smacking umami. I used these wonderful dried Vietnamese rice noodles with green tea that I found at Whole Foods. I’ve never before seen this style of dried noodle made with brown rice. A real score. They cook very quickly, just by being immersed in boiling water for one minute, so they would be great for quick stir- fries or cold noodle salads. Don’t overcook them and remember to rinse them after or they get quite sticky.

brown rice noodles

BRAISED OXTAILS WITH CHINESE GREENS

serves 2

About 2 lbs oxtail pieces (2- to 2 1/2″ thick)

2 cups chicken stock

1/2 large onion, halved and thinly sliced

1/4 cup soy sauce

3 large garlic cloves, smashed and peeled

4 whole star anise

3 (1/4-inch-thick) rounds fresh ginger

2 tablespoons dark brown sugar

1-2 tablespoons fermented black beans

6 baby bok choy

4 scallions, sliced

rice noodles

handful of cilantro, chopped

1 lime, quartered

Arrange oxtails in single layer in large, heavy pot. Add next ingredients through the beans, and enough water to cover oxtails by 1/2″; bring to a boil. Reduce heat to low, partially cover, and simmer until very tender, adding more water by 1/2 cupfuls as needed to keep oxtails covered, about 3 hours. Cool slightly, then remove oxtails and set aside. Strain broth and refrigerate, uncovered, until cold, then cover. Now trim any remaining fat from the oxtails and slip meat from bones in small chunks. Discard fat and bones. At this point you can cover meat and refrigerate it, too. Meat and broth will keep like this for up to 3 days.

If you want to eat it sooner, remove broth from fridge once a layer of fat has solidified enough to be skimmed off. Once you’ve skimmed and discarded the fat, reheat broth over medium heat in a large pot, adding meat back in.

Meanwhile, fill a large bowl with boiling water and drop in two “nests” or portions of rice noodles. Let them sit until soft, about 1 minute, then drain well in a colander and rinse with cold water (or cook according to package instructions). Set aside.

Heat a large pot of salted water to boiling and cook bok choy until just tender, about 3-4 minutes. Slice and divide between two large soup bowls. Stir rice noodles into soup and warm for a minute or two. Pour broth and meat over bok choy. Sprinkle with scallions and cilantro, and add a good squeeze of lime.

For the current Charcutepalooza challenge, we’ve moved on from simple salt curing and brining to the added step of hot smoking. Given a choice of making tasso ham or Canadian bacon, I made both. Perhaps I should say “we,” as without G’s smoking prowess I would just have lots of incredibly well-seasoned but essentially raw pork on hand. Having come out the other side of this process, I have to tell you how incredibly rewarding it is. The meat is so delicious, and it was great fun to see it through the relatively few simple steps it took to create all this rich and complex flavor. If you held a gun to my head, I think I’d have to admit I prefer the tasso—it’s made from pork shoulder (otherwise known as Boston butt, the same cut we use for our July 4th pulled pork), and slow-cooking melts its generous fat through every fiber. I can’t wait to use it in some traditional recipes like gumbo or jambalaya. The Canadian bacon is also remarkably good, especially when you consider that every bit of fat has been removed. I added an extra rub to mine, just a simple mixture of brown sugar, cayenne and cumin, but I like the extra kick it gives the smoky pink meat.

here’s how the tasso looks, post-rub and pre-smoke

Tasso ham is a specialty of Cajun cuisine. Ham is actually something of a misnomer, since tasso is not made from the hind leg of a pig. I sliced mine across the grain into 3 slimmer pieces, dredged them in a salt cure, then rinsed them, rubbed them with spices and hot-smoked them for a few hours. Although the recipe (from Charcuterie) has you go right from rubbing the meat with spices to smoking it, I let mine sit in the spice rub (white pepper, cayenne, marjoram and allspice) for a few days. The guys at Dickson’s say they leave theirs for a month (!) so I thought I should at leave mine for at week.

the tasso, fresh from the smoker

The tasso is unbelievably juicy and flavorful, fairly bursting with rich, meaty, spicy smells and tastes.

the cayenne gave the canadian bacon rub a ruddy hue

I couldn’t leave the Canadian bacon well enough alone, either. This is meant to get a good 2-day brining (since all the fat is removed) in a pot of salted water mixed with sugar, garlic, thyme and sage. After that, the recipe from Charcuterie calls for you to dry it out in the fridge for a couple of days before smoking. I brined it for longer (logistical miscalculation) and then couldn’t resist giving it a little spice rub, too. I mixed up some dark brown sugar, cayenne and cumin. I let that sink in for a few days before handing it over to my Master Smoker.

brining imbues canadian bacon with salty juiciness

This turned out to be amazingly delicious as well! As you imagine, Canadian bacon is not called that in Canada, where it’s know as back bacon. It qualifies as such even if it’s simply a brined and roasted loin; the smoking is optional, but not to be missed, if you ask me. G and I tromped out to an old orchard that’s in a small meadow in the woods back of our house and brought back a huge dried bough of apple wood. He used that and some hickory chips to smoke these meats. Swaddled in a Brooklyn sweatshirt and a big wool cap, he sipped a little Pappy Van Winkle bourbon to keep warm and read the Sunday Times as he maintained the temp in our Weber grill at 200º for about three hours.

pork fat is an excellent source of vitamin D

When I purchased my pork loin, it came virtually encased in a creamy layer of fat, about 2 inches thick. It cut away easily enough, but then I was left with about 2 pounds of the stuff. It seemed criminal to simply chuck it, so I pulled out Fat: An Appreciation of a Misunderstood Ingredient, With Recipes by the wise and wonderful (and winsome) Jennifer McLagan and looked into rendering lard. This is something you should only ever endeavor to do with the very best quality pig fat. Lard is an excellent source of vitamin D and makes a banging pie crust, the best ever.

skinless cracklings (ick) and Mexican-style lard

To render lard, you simply place the pig fat and a small quantity of water in a low oven and let it slowly melt. I was intrigued by a side bar, citing Mexican cooking authority Rick Bayless on the merits of rendering at a slightly higher temp, which browns it a bit and gives it more of a roasted pork flavor. This is especially good for making your own tamales or incorporating in dishes like refried beans. Since I already have a few tubs of neutral lard on hand in the freezer, I decided to give this a shot. The byproduct of all this rendering—aside from the lard, of course—are the cracklings. They were actually kind of foul and got tossed. If you leave the skin on the fat, then you get the real cracklings that actually have some flavor. I mean, enough is enough, when it comes to pork and every other thing. Except maybe smoking.

TASSO HAM

from Charcuterie by Michael Ruhlman and Brian Polcyn

5 pounds boneless pork shoulder butt, slice crosswise into 5 even slabs

Basic Dry Cure* for dredging, about 2 cups

3 tablespoons ground white pepper

1 1/2 tablespoons cayenne pepper

3 tablespoons dried marjoram

3 tablespoons ground allspice

Dredge the pork in the dry cure, pressing it into the cure to make it adhere, and shake off the excess. The surface of each piece should be coated with an even layer of cure. Refrigerate, covered for 4 hours.

Rinse the pork under cold water, brushing off any remaining dry cure, and pat dry with paper towels.

Combine the remaining ingredients in a shallow bowl, mixing well. Dredge the meat on all sides in the spices so that the pieces are uniformly coated. (GFL note: Here is where I wrapped mine in saran and left to cure in the fridge for almost a week.)

Hot-smoke the pork to an internal temperature of 150º. The ham will keep for several weeks refrigerated and for several months in the freezer.

*BASIC DRY CURE

1 pound kosher salt

8 ounces sugar

2 ounces pink curing salt (10 teaspoons)

Would it surprise you to hear that last night we busted out the barbecue and grilled up some pork, and awoke this morning to the first day of spring covered in snow? During a stroll around our yard yesterday, I was so thrilled to spy the first signs of life: snowdrops, rhubarb, mint (photos tomorrow). The chipmunks were dashing about, shaking off the winter doldrums and nibbling on green shoots. All just a tease. We’ll be out snowshoeing again tomorrow. Not sure if I’m complaining, but I think I am.

Anyway, we were lucky enough to get in our first grilled dinner—steaks, but featuring the other white meat. Whoever heard of a pork steak? At Dickson’s, where we get our meat in the city, they frequently have interesting new cuts. If I’m not mistaken, this has to do with the fact that they are buying the whole animal. They like to find appealing ways to showcase parts that don’t often show up in the butcher case. It’s also why they can sell things like homemade suet, stocks, patés and terrines. So when G spied these pork “sirloins,” he had to give them a try.

turns out that a sirloin is not only beef

Lightly marbled, with a rim of fat along one edge, this is one very meaty, tender and juicy pork steak. Not sure how you feel about pork. If you eat it, only buy pork products that come from small, local farms that raise their pigs humanely. I would never, ever again eat a bite of factory-farmed anything. If you have no idea why I would say this, please watch my friend Sarah Teale’s excellent documentary for HBO, Death on a Factory Farm. If you do not have access to meat raised in this way, I suggest you skip it altogether. Simple as that. The meat, milk and eggs found in supermarkets today are highly contaminated and devoid of the type of nutrition our bodies need.

It’s good to remember that, as Sally Fallon of Nourishing Traditions states, “the amount of meat in your diet depends on your genetic makeup and on hormonal factors. Some people require a lot of meat while others do not produce enough hydrochloric acid in their stomachs to handle large amounts very well. Some researchers claim that our need for meat declines in later years. Requirements for individual essential amino acids vary enormously.”

I tend to eat only occasional and small quantities of cured pork—bacon, pancetta, ham hocks—used as a flavoring in vegetable dishes. Once a year, on the 4th of July, I do indulge in our wonderfully smoky, North Carolina-style pulled pork. Pork fat is extremely nutritious and high in vitamin D. But it’s not wise to eat a lot of nitrites or nitrates in this form, nor is it a good idea to eat a lot of grilled/charred foods as they carry carcinogens.

That said (oy), we sprinkled these pork sirloins with chile salt and tossed them on a hot grill until they were crusty on the outside and pink and juicy on the inside, and boy were they delicious! With a crisp salad of radicchio, parsley and toasted pecans, it was the perfect dinner for a Meaty Monday—as long as you’re not in the middle of yet another snowstorm…

I finished brining my corned beef and cooked it a few days early, so I could share the rest of the recipe with you now. I’d love to hear if any of you decided to go for it this year, in time for St. Patrick’s Day this week. I’ll post pictures of the meat, sliced and plated, on Thursday, but I’m equally excited about the vegetables. These are poached in the beef broth until they are beautifully tender and nicely flavored from the pickling spices. You can make just potatoes and cabbage, but I encourage you to branch out and incorporate parsnips, carrots, onions, and turnips or rutabagas. You could even add daikon or kohlrabi. Be sure you’ve got some sharp, grainy mustard on hand, or whip up one or both of these piquant sauces. The demise of winter is nigh, slain by the fair hand of spring.

these vegetables are a great counterpoint to the rich, fatty meat

leave the spice bag in while poaching the vegetables

CORNED BEEF & VEGETABLES

a continuation of this recipe

serves 8, with leftovers

1 12-ounce bottle Guinness stout
3 tablespoons pickling spice, plus cheesecloth or spice bag

3 medium turnips or rutabagas, peeled and quartered

8 unpeeled medium white-skinned or red-skinned potatoes (about 3 pounds)
6 medium carrots, peeled
4 medium onions, peeled, halved through root ends
4 medium parsnips, peeled, cut into 2-inch lengths
1 2-pound head of cabbage, quartered

Remove corned beef from brine and rinse well. Then place directly in a very large, wide pot. Add stout and enough water to cover by 1 inch. Wrap pickling spice mixture in cheesecloth  or spice bag, enclosing completely, and securing with kitchen string. Place spice bag in pot. Bring just to a boil, skimming as needed, then reduce heat to medium-low, cover, and simmer until beef is tender, about 2 1/4 hours. Transfer beef to large baking sheet. *At this point, you can cool the meat, then wrap in plastic wrap and refrigerate for a couple of days.

Add vegetables to liquid in pot; bring to boil. Reduce heat to medium and boil gently until all vegetables are tender, about 40 minutes. Using slotted spoon, transfer vegetables to baking sheet with beef. Discard spice bag. Return beef to pot and rewarm 5 minutes.

Cut beef against grain into 1/4-inch thick slices. Arrange beef and vegetables on platter. Serve with Horseradish Cream and Guinness Mustard (recipes follow).

HORSERADISH CREAM

1 cup sour cream or crème fraiche

6 tablespoons prepared white horseradish (about 4 ounces)

1 tablespoon finely chopped dill pickle

1 tablespoon chopped fresh chives or green onion tops

Whisk all ingredients in small bowl to blend. Cover and refrigerate at least 2 hours. (Can be made 2 days ahead.)

GUINNESS MUSTARD

1/2 cup coarse-grained Dijon mustard

2 tablespoons regular Dijon mustard

2 tablespoons Guinness stout or other stout or porter

1 tablespoon minced shallot

1 teaspoon golden brown sugar

Whisk all ingredients in small bowl to blend. Cover and refrigerate at least 2 hours. (Can be made 2 days ahead.)

You don’t have to be Irish to love corned beef. Eastern European Jews are great connoisseurs of all manner of boiled meat, and New York deli is renowned for its sandwiches piled high with thin slices of this pink, juicy meat. But St. Patrick’s Day is coming up a week from Thursday, and that gives you plenty of time (you only need about 5 days, which means you should get started by Saturday at the latest), and the perfect reason, to make your own this year. In its original, peasanty guise, this traditional dish is as much about the vegetables: turnips, rutabagas, carrots, onions, parsnips, cabbage and plenty of spuds, of course. Not to mention delicious mustards and horseradish sauce. It’s a dish meant to usher in spring by using up all those roots stored for the winter. The date for celebrating St. Patrick—a 5th-century English missionary who converted a load of pagans to Christianity—fell during the fasting season of Lent, but prohibitions against eating meat were lifted so the Irish could celebrate their patron saint with dancing, drinking and feasting on the traditional meal of Irish bacon and cabbage. I think breaking my own fast with this is a bad idea, but we’ll see how things go…

If you make a big hunk of meat, you can share it with lucky friends, or hoard it to make such delectable offshoots as red flannel hash (with beets) and Reuben sandwiches (with homemade sauerkraut). I’m planning to serve mine with another Irish classic, colcannon, which is potatoes mashed with kale.  Champ is also traditional, potatoes mashed with parsley, scallions or chives. As with Eskimos and snow, the Irish have quite an extensive vocabulary when it comes to potatoes.

pickling spice blends, like Indian masalas, vary from cook to cook

Corning means to preserve something in a salty brine; corn was a generic term for grain and, in this instance, refers to the coarse grains of salt used for curing. In the days before refrigeration, it was an essential process for storing meat, especially from large animals like cows. Any cut of beef can be corned, but a tougher, well-marbled brisket is the ultimate choice. The recipe below, adapted from Michael Ruhlman and Brian Polcyn’s Charcuterie, calls for you to brine the meat for 5 days. The brine is flavored with a rich mix of aromatic spices, including whole clove, black pepper, coriander, mustard, bay leaf, allspice, red chile, cinnamon and mace.

about mace: it’s so delicious we should all be cooking with it much more

Mace is the bright red, lacy covering (the “aril”) of the nutmeg seed shell. Because the yield of mace is much less than that of the seed, it’s more highly valued. A pile of fruit large enough to make one hundred pounds of nutmeg produces just a single pound of mace. This outer covering is removed and broken into parts known as “blades.” As it is dries, it loses its bright red color and develops a sweet fragrance and a warm, sharp and highly aromatic flavor, more intense and slightly sweeter than nutmeg. The best quality mace will retain some pliability and release a little oil when squeezed. As with all spices, it’s best to buy it whole and grind your own. I use my coffee grinder.

the pepper, coriander and mustard get gently toasted

briny depths: kosher salt, brown sugar, garlic, pink salt

You may want to ask your butcher if he can spare you a little pink salt (you’ll need just 6 teaspoons), or order some here or here. (In New York City, it’s available at Kalustyan’s.) Pink salt is a cooking term for sodium nitrite, a chemical formula used as a color fixative and preservative in meats and fish; it also prevents the growth of Clostridium botulinum, the bacterium responsible for botulism. In very high doses, sodium nitrite is actually quite toxic, so it is dyed pink in order to avoid confusion with other substances in the kitchen. Make sure you use it carefully and only in designated amounts. A common concern about sodium nitrite is the formation of carcinogenic nitrosamines when exposed to high temperatures. However, our bodies are full of nitrites, as much as 93% of which come from green vegetables, including spinach and celery. We naturally convert nitrate into nitrite, which works as a powerful antibacterial agent, particularly in an acidic environment like our stomachs. That said, you can choose to leave it out of the recipe, but your corned beef will not have the pink color, firm texture or precisely the flavor you might be expecting. Which is not to say it won’t be delicious. For a more detailed discussion of pink salt, and curing safety in general, see Michael Ruhlman’s post for Charcutepalooza here.

If you like to tipple as you cook, consider having a bottle of Bushmills at the ready. Bushmills is Ireland’s oldest working distillery, dating from the 15th century, when King James I granted Sir Thomas Phillips a royal license to distill uisce beatha, Gaelic for “water of life.” Most Irish whiskey is distilled three times, and peat is rarely used in the malting process, so it has a smoother finish than many Scotches. In other words, it goes down like a lucky charm!

And while you’re at it, now is the perfect time for you to throw together a batch of sauerkraut. Come on! It’s the easiest thing in the world and so deeply satisfying, not to mention incredibly healthy what with all that wonderful lacto-fermented natural bacteria that’s fabulous for your digestion. In fact, drinking the juice from your homemade kraut is super therapeutic. All you need is a head of cabbage, some salt, a jar and a little elbow grease. Here’s the recipe.

what a crock: cabbage, salt, caraway seeds and juniper berries

CORNED BEEF

slightly adapted from Charcuterie by Michael Ruhlman and Brian Polcyn

Pickling Spice:

2 tablespoons black peppercorns

2 tablespoons mustard seeds

2 tablespoons coriander seeds

2 tablespoons hot red-pepper flakes

2 tablespoons allspice berries

1 tablespoon ground mace

2 small cinnamon sticks, broken into pieces

2-4 bay leaves, crumbled

2 tablespoons whole cloves

1 tablespoon ground ginger

Brine:

8 cups water

2 cups lager

1 1/2 cups coarse kosher salt

1/2 cup light brown muscovado sugar

1 ounce (5 teaspoons) pink salt (see above)

3 garlic cloves, minced

3 tablespoons pickling spice

One 4-5 pound well-marbled (first-cut) beef brisket

Lightly toast the pepper, mustard and coriander in a hot, dry skillet, then smash them with the side of a knife to crack them. Combine these with the remaining pickling spice ingredients, mixing well. Store in a tightly sealed plastic container or glass jar.

Pour water and beer into a non-reactive container or roasting pan deep enough to contain the meat and brine. Add coarse salt, pink salt and sugar, stirring until dissolved. Mix in pickling spices. Pierce brisket all over with the tip of a small, sharp knife. Completely submerge brisket in liquid, then top with a heavy platter to weigh it down. (I needed two cans of tomatoes on top of the platter to keep my brisket submerged.) Cover and refrigerate 5 days.

Stay tuned for part 2 of making corned beef with vegetables, plus delicious sauce recipes, next Meaty Monday!

I arose this morning to the deep silence of new-fallen snow, a world blanketed white. Today is a holiday. An opportunity to putter about guilt-free, reading yesterday’s paper, enjoying a leisurely cup of chai. Thoughts turn to the cubes of lamb I pulled from the freezer to defrost overnight. Something warming is in order, a comforting braise of some sort, but nothing that requires too much work. Perhaps a spicy vindaloo is just the thing. It can marinate for hours, and then G can stir it on the stovetop while I’m at yoga this evening. A group effort, and yet not much effort at all. Brown rice, sauteed spinach and a little raita. That’s dinner on this Meaty Monday. A day off for you might mean ordering in, but it’s actually much more indulgent to inhale the wonderful smells of aromatics and spices, knowing that a delicious curry is in your future.

i love the earthy palette of these fragrant spices

you may not have all these spices on hand but improvising is totally acceptable

Making a curry is a great excuse to head to your local Indian market, always a delight for the senses. A visit to Kalustyan’s, in person or online, never fails to enthrall. I’m a big fan of making a curry whenever the mood strikes you, and this means stocking your pantry with, at the very least, cumin, coriander, ginger, cayenne, turmeric, fennel, cinnamon, clove and cardamom. If you have a spice grinder (or a coffee grinder), tou can buy everything whole (except ginger, and maybe turmeric); spices stay fresher for longer like that.

jaggery, green cardamom pods and ground sumac

If you’re not as obsessed with exotic items as I am, you may not have jaggery (unrefined Indian sugar) or ground sumac on hand, but fear not, oh intrepid cheflings! The point of the jaggery is to add a little sweetness, so you can substitute brown sugar or even a bit of molasses or light honey. The sumac adds an element of tartness, which you can replicate with a little more tamarind, or vinegar or lemon juice. It’s about balancing the flavors and you don’t need to be overly fastidious with which ingredients you use. Indian cooking is very forgiving this way, inviting cooks to create curries of their own devising with a classic repertoire of spices.

the marinade starts with a base of spicy mustard oil, tamarind and vinegar

For instance, I had no red wine vinegar on hand, so I used malt vinegar, which is what chef Durga Prasad of New York’s Tamarind restaurant uses in his vindaloo preparations. It has an earthy sweetness that enhances this dish.

ginger, chile and garlic are traditional flavors of Southern Indian cuisine

Vindaloo comes from vinho de alho, an old Portuguese dish of pork preserved in red wine (vinho) vinegar, and cooked with a lot of garlic (alho). Along with red chile peppers, this preparation was brought by Portuguese traders when they colonized India’s South coast in the 16^th century, including the city of Goa. The idea of preserving evolved into something more like a pickle, with a mix of whole spices including cumin, coriander, fenugreek, black mustard, cinnamon, cloves, black peppercorns, red chile and cardamom. In addition to vinegar, tamarind and sumac were added as souring agents, with a bit of jaggery to cut the sharpness. As in most dishes from this area, copious amounts of ginger and garlic are present. In deference to Muslims, pork has been replaced with goat or lamb, sometimes even chicken or prawns; and ghee takes the place of pork fat. It’s a fairly common mistake to think that the “aloo” in vindaloo refers to potatoes, but traditional versions of this curry do not incorporate the starchy tubers. Although they can make a nice addition, I prefer to serve mine with rice, and a creamy raita to cut the heat. Not the kind that drives you out of the kitchen, the kind that lures you to the table and warms the cockles of your heart.

GOAN LAMB VINDALOO

serves 6

Marinade

½ cup mustard oil

¼ cup red wine vinegar (or apple cider or malt vinegar)

2 tablespoons tamarind pulp (concentrate is fine)

1 teaspoon  sea salt

1/4 cup minced garlic

1-2 tablespoons finely chopped ginger (depending on your taste)

2 serrano chiles, seeds and vein removed

2 teaspoons ground cumin

1 1/2 teaspoons ground coriander

1/2 teaspoon turmeric powder

1/4 teaspoon ground fenugreek

1/4 teaspoon ground ginger powder

3/4 teaspoon ground cinnamon

1/4 teaspoon ground cloves

1/2 teaspoon ground black pepper

1/2 teaspoon ground cardamom

1/2 teaspoon ground sumac

1 teaspoon hot mustard powder

2 teaspoons cayenne

2 teaspoons paprika

2 pounds lean lamb, cut into 1″ – 1½” cubes

1/4 cup ghee

2 cups minced onion

6 tablespoons water, or more as needed

2 teaspoons jaggery (or light brown sugar)

Combine all the marinade ingredients in a non-reactive bowl. Stab each cube of lamb once or twice with a sharp knife and then slather with the marinade. Cover and marinate in refrigerator for 12 hours, or on the countertop for 6-8.

Remove lamb from the marinade and scrape off any that is clinging to the meat. Reserve marinade and set aside.

Heat ghee in a heavy saucepan or stock pot. Add marinated lamb and brown on both sides over medium-high heat, about 8 minutes. Remove browned pieces and set aside. Add the onions and fry until almost brown, about 5 minutes. Turn the heat down and add reserved marinade, being careful to protect your eyes from cooking fumes. Fry the paste for a few minutes before adding lamb and water. This should be a fairly dry curry, so don’t make it too soupy. Bring to a near boil, then turn down heat and cover. Simmer on low until lamb is tender, about 20 to 30 minutes. Stir in sugar. Serve with rice or Indian flatbread, and raita.

raita is a mild and versatile sauce that complements spicy food

CUCUMBER RAITA

makes about 2 1/2 cups

1 teaspoon whole cumin seeds

2 cups Greek yogurt

1/3 seedless cucumber, peeled and grated or finely chopped (about 1/2 cup)

sea salt

Toast the cumin seeds in a small heavy skillet over medium-low heat until very fragrant, about 2 minutes. Be vigilant so these do not burn! You can incorporate these whole but I like to bruise them with the salt in a mortar and pestle. Drain excess water from the cucumber. Stir all the ingredients together. Serve cold or at room temperature with hot curry.

i previously touted the merits of the mortar and pestle here

Even though it ends with me cooking dinner for my husband, I believe this to be a feminist post. After committing to joining in the year-long fun at Charcutepalooza, I promptly fell behind in procuring and curing the requisite first couple of challenges: duck prosciutto and pancetta. I’m pleased to say that here, today, on Meaty Monday, I can present the results of both completed endeavors.

The day I found myself rubbing spices into 5 pounds of fresh pork belly, I happened to be tuned into Terry Gross’ Fresh Air interview with historian Stephanie Coontz on the subject of her new book about revisiting Betty Friedan’s seminal “The Feminine Mystique.” Friedan’s book, published 47 years ago, ignited the contemporary women’s movement, appealing to all those busy and domestically accomplished stay-at-home moms who were mystified by their utter despair and unhappiness. Cut to 2011: I am standing in my kitchen in the middle of a weekday, contentedly massaging a piece of meat with freshly ground nutmeg and feeling no pain. As we post-feminism feminists understand, it’s all about choice.

a pork belly has a fatty side and a meaty side like this

take the cure

One of the great things about abandoning city life to become a country bumpkin is that I am not distracted daily by shopping, lunch out, the gym, errands and socializing like I once was. These are things I still enjoy, but they have taken a back seat to more writing, more yoga, more cooking and experimenting in the kitchen, more nature, more introspection. It’s ironic that many women of our mothers’ generation were pining to get out of the kitchen, and so many of us are obsessed with getting back into it. Anyway, you get the point. So on with the charcuterie.

the rub includes thyme, bay leaf, juniper berries, nutmeg and lots of black pepper

there’s nothing more heavenly than the smell of freshly grated nutmeg

then it gets sealed in a big ziploc and refrigerated for a week

Jake Dickson told me that my pork belly came from a pig that had been raised on a diet of acorns at its Hudson Valley farm, so the fat might be slightly softer. In the end, I wound up curing the belly for 10 days instead of a week. Was it because of this? Not sure, but maybe.

Here comes the embarrassing part: I couldn’t figure out how to properly tie the pancetta. I rolled it beautifully but when it came to getting those butcher’s knots going, I was a total flop. I even watched a couple of how-to videos, but they kept going too fast and I just couldn’t get it. Have you figured out yet how much of a perfectionist I am? Well, this failure was challenging for me. In the end, I was grateful to read in our guiding tome, Michael Ruhlman and Brian Polcyn’s Charcuterie, that it’s permissible to wrap the belly in cheesecloth and hang it flat. So that’s what I did. But I was too ashamed to take pictures of it. I wound up creating a sort of truss out of kitchen string and hanging it in our “basement” (pretty close to a root cellar) where the temperature seems to hover around 53 degrees. It worked out!

the flesh darkens and firms but remains oily and m****

ok, so i don’t have the lovely spiral; i did it my way

it smelled so good i almost ate some raw! (but i didn’t)

I could think of no better purpose for this gorgeous pancetta than one of G’s most favored dishes: buccatini all’amatriciana. It’s named for the tiny town of Amatrice, where shepherds have long eaten this spicy pasta after a day on the chilly mountain slopes. It can be made with guanciale (maybe I’ll try that next) but pancetta also does nicely. In addition, it calls for onion, garlic, tomatoes, chile and pecorino.

this sicilian pecorino is from eataly, and it is extraordinary—rich, sharp and oily

the pork, tomatoes and cheese are an umami triftecta

I wanted to start the meal with something special (it’s Valentine’s Day, after all), so I thought why not feature the duck prosciutto as well? Is there such a thing as too much charcuterie? In reality, these highly flavorful preparations are an excellent means of consuming very small portions of meat. They add a lot to vegetable-centric dishes like the pasta, and this frisee salad I came up with.

The duck curing process was no less traumatic, by the way.

i got a beautiful breast from dickson’s

you bury it in salt and refrigerate it overnight before rinsing and applying the rub

I added some of my (fabulously expensive) fennel pollen and a little smoked salt to the recommended white pepper rub.

the wrapped and (jerry-rigged) trussed duck

I made the duck first, before the pancetta, and was too terrified of the enormous snow drifts to take it to the cellar (it has an outside entrance). Plus, I kept forgetting to buy a thermometer so I could register the proper hanging temperature and humidity. So I winged it, hanging it next to the (freezing) French doors that lead out to the porch. Every day I would anxiously feel it up to see if it was firmer and lighter. It needs to lose about 30% of its original weight. (Who doesn’t?) In the end, I’d say I left it to hang about a day too long. There’s a thin strip along the bottom that is slightly chewier than optimal, but I’ve actually grown to quite like that. It’s almost a little hammy.

it was pretty thrilling to cut into it and see such jewel-like meat

it’s quite unctuous and permeated with a light hint of fennel

the perfect salad to usher in the all’amatriciana

I’m serving it sliced into thin strips atop lightly dressed frisée, garnished with some pickled red jacket plums and a sprinkling of chopped toasted almonds. That ought to capture anyone’s heart.

I am woman, hear me roar.

BUCATINI ALL’AMATRICIANA

adapted from Mario Batali and Marcella Hazan

serves 4

3/4 lb pancetta, in thin 1″ batons 
3 garlic cloves, minced
1 onion, diced
3-4 whole dried chiles de árbol, crumbled
sea salt and freshly ground black pepper, to taste
1 large can peeled whole tomatoes
1 pound bucatini
Pecorino Romano or Siciliano, for grating

Bring 6 quarts of water to a boil and add 2 tablespoons of salt.

Place the pancetta slices in a large, heavy saute pan in a single layer and cook over medium-low heat until most of the fat has been rendered, turning occasionally. Remove the meat to a plate lined with paper towels and discard half the fat, leaving enough to coat the garlic, onion and chile pepper. Cook vegetables over medium-high heat for 5 minutes, or until light golden brown, then add the tomatoes, breaking them up with your spoon. Reduce the heat, and simmer for 20 minutes. Stir the pancetta back in and simmer for another 10 minutes. Taste for salt and pepper.

Cook the bucatini in the boiling water until just al dente. Drain the pasta and add it to the simmering sauce. Increase the heat to high and toss to coat. Divide the pasta among four warmed bowls. Top with plenty of freshly grated Pecorino and serve immediately.