Pork

A few simple spices are all you need to transform ground pork into a fantastic taco filling.

This dish conveys the grandeur of formal Chinese dinners, but there's nothing intimidating about its preparation. The balance of flavors is sublime, and the presentation is striking — ruffled Napa cabbage is arranged around large pork meatballs to create the appearance of the lionlike Tibetan dog.

Fig trees love warmer climates. However, for the adventurous northern gardener, the best way to grow figs is in a container that can be placed outdoors in warm weather and then brought indoors to winter. The best variety of fig tree for a container is the Petite Negri fig. It's a small- to medium-sized black fruit with sweet, red flesh. If you have great weather, Mission figs are superb. The natural sweetness of figs goes well with pork tenderloin in this dish. If you like, use sturdy fresh rosemary branches (as from the Tuscan variety) for the skewers.

These ribs get the benefit of a lemon pepper accent mixed with complementary seasonings and finished with an apple juice baste. We think they're best hot off the grill without any other seasonings. If you must, serve them with barbecue sauce on the side.

"There is no point in cooking country ham and burgoo to serve just six," Charles Patteson advises the Derby Day host in Charles Patteson's Kentucky Cooking (1988). "Start with the mandatory mint juleps," he continues. "Burgoo, which is midway between a hearty soup and a stew, succeeds the juleps in the guests' cups as a first course." I hadn't known that. Nor had I known that it's traditional for burgoo to be scooped into silver mint julep cups at the annual Kentucky Colonels' Barbecue the day after the Derby. In Kentucky's Best (1998), Linda Allison-Lewis writes that burgoo must "simmer for twenty-four hours prior to being served," then confides that burgoo chefs used to listen for the splatter of the "mysterious ingredient"—the ingredient that fused all flavors—being added "sometime in the dark of night." Legend has it that that ingredient was a black snake that fell out of a tree into the first batch of burgoo. Historians doubt that but most do agree that burgoo was created during the Civil War by Gus Jaubert, a French chef serving Confederate general John Hunt Morgan. At war's end, Jaubert settled in Lexington, Kentucky, began making burgoo on a massive scale, and soon gained fame as "the burgoo king." On his death, according to Ronni Lundi, author of Shuck Beans, Stack Cakes, and Honest Fried Chicken (1991), Lexington cook J. T. Looney "inherited both Jaubert's pot and his title." While traveling about the Bluegrass State some years ago to research my Grass Roots Cookbook, I ate burgoo every chance I got. I also learned more about this Kentucky classic. Jaubert's original recipe apparently contained blackbirds. Unable to say "blackbird stew" not only because French was his first language but also because he had a hairlip, Jaubert pronounced it "burgoo." Or so I was told. Elsewhere I learned that those early burgoos contained mostly squirrels plus whatever vegetables came to hand. I daresay that there are hundreds of different recipes for Kentucky burgoo today. This downsized version of the burgoo served for years at the Pete Light Springs Restaurant in Cadiz, Kentucky, was given to me by Lois Watkins, whom I profiled in my book. "This burgoo is the best in the world," she said as she handed me the scribbled recipe. I won't quarrel with that.

"If gumbo is the national stew of Cajun country, burgoo is the stew of Kentucky," Ronni Lundy asserts in her book Shuck Beans, Stack Cakes, and Honest Fried Chicken. Because the stew is made in many different ways with a variety of ingredients, the "Burgoo Song" by Robert Myles claims, "You can toss in almost anything that ever walked or flew." Many early recipes for burgoo include squirrel in addition to chicken, beef, and pork. In Kentucky, Anderson County, which hosts its Burgoo Festival every September, is known as the burgoo capital of the world. Arenzville, Illinois, makes a similar claim. But the French lay claim to the basic concept of burgoo, and it's conceivable that the word burgoo arose somehow from the French ragout (pronounced ra-goo), also a term describing a stew. Burgoo makers agree • Burgoo should be made in stages: cook the meat first, and then add the vegetables.
• No less than 4—6 hours should be devoted to making burgoo. Some recipes call for a 24-hour cooking period.
• Burgoo should contain more than one meat.
• Burgoo should be prepared outdoors over an open fire.

Try a heritage Berkshire pork loin rack for great flavor and tenderness. If you are lucky enough to have a pork vendor at your local farmers market you can buy it there (you might want to order it in advance) or it can be mail ordered from www.heritagepork.com or prairiepridefarmminnesota.foodoro.com. Many butchers can cut a loin rack for you as well. Commercially, the loin rack is cut into pork chops but if you call ahead they can cut a roast for you.

Korean pickled cabbage, a.k.a. kimchi, provides the spice in these savory fritters, while soaked raw mung beans hold the flourless pancakes together. They're great with or without the dipping sauce and pickled pears.

"The best thing about serving a braise," says chef Cruz Goler, "is that timing isn't critical, making this a great party dish." French in technique but Italian in spirit, the recipe calls for pleasantly bitter Treviso radicchio to act as a foil to the rich pork. Be sure to let the pork cool in its liquid so that the braised meat can continue to soak up the sauce.

Delicious on its own, this thoroughly modern meatloaf takes on a terrine-like texture when chilled overnight, just right for deluxe open-face sandwiches with a banh mi-like flavor profile.

When orzo, rice-shaped pasta, is cooked like risotto, it becomes soft and creamy. It’s a wonderful foil for pork, as well as chicken or seafood, and you can change the seasonings to match the protein. A drizzle of herby vinaigrette over the pork and orzo gives an extra zing of flavor.

Roasting beets takes a bit longer than boiling them, but the time spent is well worth it for the resulting rich flavor. Using both the greens and the roots makes beets a great bargain.

A mortar and pestle make easy work of crushing whole spices and peppercorns, but you can also use the bottom of a skillet or even the flat side of a chef ’s knife, pressing down firmly and working on a cutting board. Choose apricots that are ripe but still firm so they can hold up under the heat of the grill; brush the apricots and pork with the glaze as soon as they come off the heat. The glaze also tastes great on other grilled meats.

In the meat section of Mexican markets are large trays of pork or beef sitting in a thick red chile sauce that acts as both tenderizer and flavoring. This is carne adovada. At home, the mixture is slow-cooked into a stew along with additions like posole and vegetables. The chile sauce is a link back to the days before refrigeration, when chiles were used at the market as a preservative. Bueno Foods makes a delicious sauce using New Mexican red chiles that is perfect for this recipe (see Sources, page 167).

A wildly popular Latin snack food throughout the Americas, chicharrones are made from pork belly that has been cooked for a long time with the skin on, and contains a little meat (what we think of as pork rinds in the United States). Though usually eaten as a crispy snack, they also make a tasty taco filling when heated in a sauce until softened and chewy. The most unusual chicharrones are those made from the whole pork skin fried in one piece—they’re about four feet long by two feet wide and resemble some dried prehistoric animal. You’ll see them for sale on weekends along the highways in areas of Mexico where there are a lot of pigs, sometimes next to a huge pot of pork fat boiling over an open fire. They’re almost always made to order; you stop and buy a piece or buy the whole thing. I’m guessing you only see them by the highways because they are so enormous you need a car or pickup truck to get one home.

This is a very simple country-style recipe, kind of like the old family standby of fried pork chops, and is quite tasty if prepared correctly. It is important not to overcook the pork or it will be dry and chewy. In Mexico, pork shoulder chops or other secondary cuts are traditional, but I’ve used pork loin here to make preparation as easy as possible. Leave any fat on the loin to help keep it moist. If your loin is very lean (and modern pork tends to be very lean), letting it sit in a brine made of 8 cups water, 2 tablespoons kosher salt, 1/2 cup plus 2 tablespoons sugar, and 1 head garlic, halved, for 2 hours will make the pork juicier and give it a nice aroma.

The Sonoran landscape is riddled with mesquite trees, wild chile bushes, and barbecue pits. Not surprisingly, the Sonoran people are known for their fiery barbecued meats. Children and grownups alike gather wild chiltepin chiles from the bosque—the forested banks of rivers and streams—and sell them in the markets or next to the serious speed bumps in the road where you must slow down or lose your transmission. This recipe is typical of ranch-style cooking in northern Mexico except that a modern indoor oven replaces the traditional wood-fired barbecue pit. This recipe makes enough for a crowd. To halve, use two and a half pounds bone-out pork butt or four pounds country-style pork ribs, and halve the remaining ingredients, adjusting the cooking time accordingly. Note that the pork must marinate overnight.

Mondongo is usually a thick, spicy stew made with beef tripe and lots of locally grown vegetables, probably Spanish in origin. You can find many versions of it throughout Latin America and the Caribbean. The one I am most familiar with was prepared by our wonderful Mexican chef Daniel Alvarez, who cooked at the Coyote Cantina for over twenty years. His version used pork butt instead of tripe, lots of green chiles, sometimes posole or corn, and other green vegetables. He made this dish often for the staff meal and sometimes as a special at the Cantina. It always sold out quickly.

In Spanish, carnitas means “little meats,” and this is probably the most popular taco in Mexican cuisine. The pork pieces are succulent, juicy, and rich with a browned crust from frying—perfect for tacos. The best places in Mexico for this taco are at carnitas restaurants. Every town has one or more, some open only on weekends. You’ll see huge cauldrons—thirty gallons or more—of boiling pork fat holding whole pork loins, shoulders, and other big cuts like ribs. The chef closely monitors the frying temperature, pulling out the meat at just the right moment—when cooked, but still juicy. Customers say which cut they want and how much, always getting a mixture of lean and fatty meats, which make better tacos. The meat is weighed and chopped. Once you’ve paid, you take your carnitas to a table set up with fresh tortillas and bowls of salsa. Order a couple of cold beers and you are in taco heaven. This recipe is much simpler and easier, and the carnitas are great.

Tortellini are traditionally served in broth; Basic Chicken Stock (page 41) or Basic Brown Stock (page 50) would be equally delicious.