Pork

Pork shoulder is delicious braised as well as roasted. Salsa Genovese provides a wonderful sauce as well as a large amount of meat—indeed, this traditional Neapolitan Sunday dish gives you two options, for two different meals. In the custom of “Sunday sauces,” the freshly cooked pork and its braising sauce are served separately the first time: the sauce with the meat extracted is tossed with pasta for a first course, and the meat is sliced and served as a main course. (In Italian and Italian-American homes, these might be different courses or on the table at the same time.) Whatever sauce and meat are left from the first feast are then combined into a meaty sauce to dress pasta another day. A 5-pound pork shoulder cooked, in my recipe, with 5 pounds of chopped onions will give you plenty of meat and sauce to enjoy all these ways. Braise a bigger shoulder butt for even more leftovers—just be sure to buy plenty of onions: a 7-pound pork roast gets 7 pounds of onions!

Pork shoulders (also called butts or Boston butts) are terrific roasts, in my opinion, more delicious than pork loin and definitely less expensive. With a nice layer of fat on top, a good proportion of fat through the muscle, and lots of connective tissue, the roasted meat has wonderful flavor and soft, moist texture. It’s easy to roast—you don’t need to erect a foil tent for it—and the shoulder-blade bone, which adds flavor and speeds roasting, is simple to remove when you’re serving the meat. (It is also easy to braise, as you will find in the following recipe for Salsa Genovese). Shoulder roasts range from 4 to 8 pounds, bone-in, or larger. This procedure will work for any-size roast, though the vegetable and seasoning amounts are for a 5-to-7-pound shoulder, the size you’ll usually find in the butcher’s case. To feed a big crowd, ask the butcher to cut a larger shoulder for you, or cook two smaller roasts in one very big roasting pan. Be sure to increase the vegetables, seasonings, and cooking liquids proportionally with your meat. Some of the other choices you have with this easy roast: should you mash all the roasting-pan vegetables into the sauce—the simplest method—or cut and caramelize them to serve as a side dish? Or a bit of each? (See page 344 for more information.) It’s up to you. Do you want to glaze the roast? I’ve got a good maple syrup glaze to share—see recipe that follows.

Guazzetti are sauces made by slowly simmering meat, game, or poultry in stock, creating a velvety texture that coats pasta wonderfully. Traditionally, a guazzetto got its great flavor from bones with little flesh, but it works with meaty cuts too. Country ribs can be so meaty you’ll have more pork than you need for the sauce, so enjoy it in sandwiches or salads or as a ravioli stuffing.

Everyone traveling to Bologna, Emilia Romagna, is bound to eat ragù Bolognese, ricetta tradizionale and/or ricetta antica. Served with fresh tagliatelle, particularly spinach tagliatelle, it is the precursor to meat sauce as we know it, and still the main Sunday staple at a Bolognese Sunday meal. The ricetta antica, an old recipe, has milk added while the sauce simmers, to give it additional richness and velvety texture. Today it is mostly the tradizionale, without milk, that is cooked in Bologna.

We have all seen countless dishes called al Marsala on the menus of Italian-American restaurants. Too often, I have found, they disappoint me. The pork scaloppine I enjoyed at the Ferdinando brothers’ trattoria reminded me that this simple preparation depends so much on the quality of the wine that is splashed into the skillet. And I was not surprised to learn that the superb sauce coating the meat was made with a carefully chosen Marsala, dry and aromatic. After all, the town of Marsala lies just a few hours west of Palermo, and from that western tip of the island comes all authentic Marsala, in a wide range of vintages, colors, and degrees of sweetness. The finest Marsalas, aged a minimum of 10 years, are ranked with the great fortified wines of the world—sipping one of these is a pleasure you shouldn’t miss. But for good cooking, I recommend a moderately priced Superiore (aged 2 years) or Superiore Riserva (aged 4 years). I always prefer dry (secco) Marsala, even for desserts like Espresso Zabaglione (page 156); for these scaloppine, secco is a must.

The foothills of the Apennines line the eastern part of the Maremma and provide a congenial habitat for many species of wildlife, notably wild boar. As they range the hills, foraging at different altitudes, their diet varies, from rough vegetation to earthy treasures like acorns, chestnuts, and hazelnuts. Boar is prepared in infinite ways, from curing it and making sausages, prosciutto, and salami, to braising and roasting it. As with domestic pigs, the flavor of boar meat varies according to what the animal has consumed. Part of the luck of the hunt is bagging a boar that has feasted on acorns or chestnuts rather than meager plant foods—you can taste the difference. Here in the States, boar are domestically raised, though often allowed free range like true wild boar. The meat is generally excellent, complex in flavor and surprisingly tender. It is also easily purchased, over the Internet, right from the producers or through specialty-food merchants (see Sources, page 340) but it is expensive and you can use pork tenderloins instead in this recipe (but marinate them for only half the time). If you’ve not tried boar, this recipe for tenderloins will be a tasty and easy introduction. After marinating for several hours in wine and aromatics, the filets need only brief cooking on the stovetop. Most of the work here is transforming the marinade into a beautiful, savory-sweet condiment with plump apple wedges and prunes. It is a memorable special-occasion dish.

Like Antico Peposo, page 195, this is a rugged, spicy, Maremma-style meat stew—chunks of pork marinated in wine, then browned and braised with ground fennel, peperoncino, and black olives. Traditionally, secondary cuts of pork were used for this dish, but if you prefer, pork chops can be substituted for the pork shoulder. Just keep in mind not to overcook them—use less stock, and cook for a shorter time. Serve with Braised Swiss Chard and Cannellini Beans, page 175, or polenta.

Tortelli are ravioli by another name—a square, filled pasta. And though they vary greatly, like all pastas, tortelli often are filled with fresh ricotta and spinach or other greens, herbs, or vegetables. In Maremma, where carnivorous appetites rule, such a meatless approach is not typical. As you’ll find in this set of recipes, tortelli maremmani have meat inside and outside—and lots of it. Fried chopped chicken livers plump up the tortelli, in addition to ricotta and spinach. Once cooked, the tortelli are dressed with a typical ragù maremmano, made with three chopped meats slowly cooked in tomatoes. My friend Alma likes best boar, chicken, and pork, but here I call for veal, pork, and sausage, because I find that combination comes close to the complexity of the boar. Of course, if you can get boar, by all means use it. This is a great pasta, and worth all the stirring and stuffing. However, it is not necessary to make everything here and put the ingredients together in just one way. The components of tortelli maremmani give many options for delicious meals (and convenient advance preparation). For instance, it’s fine to make the filling and the pasta for the tortelli and leave the ragù for another day. You can sauce your tortelli simply with sage butter, pages 49–50, or just shower them with Tuscan olive oil and Pecorino Toscano. On the other hand, go right to the ragù recipe—skip the tortelli—and make this marvelous sauce to dress any pasta, fresh or dry, or polenta or gnocchi. Indeed, the ragù recipe makes enough for two or more meals. Toss a couple of cups of ragù with spaghetti for a fabulous (and fast) supper one night, and freeze the rest. It will still be perfect whenever you do get a chance to roll and fill those plump tortelli maremmani.

In Friuli and neighboring regions, cooking pork and cabbage together in the same pot has been the habit for centuries. Sometimes the cabbage is in the form of sauerkraut (for example, Istrian cappucci guarniti, page 27), and sometimes it is fresh Savoy cabbage. This recipe is a quick and delicious rendition of this one-pot tradition in which the meat and its juices are used to flavor and cook the cabbage. Here the chops are browned in the skillet, leaving caramelization and pan juices that permeate the cabbage as it cooks alone, until the ingredients are united for a few minutes at the end. Together, they make a harmonious and satisfying meal—but if you have a hungry bunch, serve some grilled polenta alongside.

In Trieste, every home and every trattoria has a pot of this hearty soup perking on the stove, especially during the winter months, when the bora, a cold north-easterly wind, blows down from the Carso mountains above the city. Bean soups with pasta (pasta e fagioli) or rice are popular here too, as in other parts of Italy, but the combination of beans and sauerkraut is the favorite by far—a perfect example of the Slavic influence on the culinary culture of Trieste.

At every major holiday or event in Istria—no matter what else—there must be a pot of sauerkraut with big cuts of cured and fresh pork buried inside. This dish belongs in the category of treasured one-pot meals, filled with flavor, that can feed a crowd yet require little attention from the cook. It is enjoyed for days—even better reheated—and if there are any leftovers, they are turned into jota, page 42. It is essential that cured meats be of the best quality, so visit a real Eastern European–style butcher if you can. Good sauerkraut is also essential. If you can’t find genuine fresh sauerkraut, sold in bulk, I recommend buying bagged sauerkraut, in the refrigerator cases of most supermarkets, rather than canned.

This is a hearty soup that my grandmother made—though never the same way twice. Sometimes she would add some pasta near the end of cooking, in the style of pasta e fagioli, or add another kind of bean, since legumes were so important. In season she would toss in a cup or two of fresh corn kernels. This is really a one-pot meal, in two courses. First you have the velvety, rich soup, then sliced sausage and ribs as a second course. With a piece of country bread and a small salad, who could ask for more?

PAT My brothers and I are all “bourbon men.” We take ours neat, or lacquered to our ribs. Enough said. GINA I can’t believe I ended up with a bourbon-and-ribs man. Growing up, we always had chicken, hot dogs, smoked sausages, and burgers, but for some reason the ribs were always center stage. The women in my family were often throwing some crazy ingredient or other into their rubs and sauces—and don’t you know that we kept bourbon as one of them. We always had bourbon around for “ailments,” and not just the cooking kind. So what do I do? I go and marry a rib-grilling bourbon lover—was my life being planned even then? To this day, ribs and bourbon are like the “main act” in my life! Remember: in all grilling, the sauce and the rub must work together, like a good marriage. And when smoking those ribs, Pat will remind you to keep the heat “low and slow.”

If you’ve got a smoker or kettle grill, here’s your recipe—you’ll make much more pulled pork than you need for the nachos, but are you complaining? Ever heard of that Memphis classic, a pulled-pork sandwich? Make some Neely’s coleslaw (see page 150), BBQ sauce (see page 37), and toasted hamburger buns, and go to town with the leftovers.

You don’t always have to have an outside smoker, hickory smoke, charcoal, or even indirect heat to create delicious pulled pork. The secret lies in the smoked paprika and the fruit flavor from the apple juice; the lid should stay tight on your Dutch oven to keep in the tenderness. We don’t need much of a dry rub for our pork, because the hot sauce, Worcestershire, and soy already make the Spice Fairy’s presence known!

PAT Have mercy—I could eat pork chops 7 days a week. I eat ’em grilled, fried, or baked, but my absolute favorite is a smothered pork chop. When I pull up and smell the fantastic aroma coming from the stovetop, it stops me in my tracks. That’s Tanya, working her magic. GINA Okay . . . if my sister wasn’t my sister, I would think she is trying to get my man! She knows that he loves pork chops, and I am the only one other than his mama who is supposed to know that! Tanya uses all the right ingredients: adding chicken broth for more moisture, and a dash of hot sauce and cayenne to spice it up (hey, sister, that’s my thang). This is the only time I will bend on letting someone cook for Pat!