Pulled pork, take one

Yesterday I finally embarked on making pulled pork. Its tremendous popularity in the last five or so years has made it a frequent menu item everywhere, and it's fast becoming a feature of many establishments including the food trucks that stake their whole business on it. While this is definitely not a bad thing, it does make me want to conquer this ubiquitous object of our desires.

Really, pulled pork came from roasting a whole hog in a barbecue pit for hours and hours, tender- and lovingly basted and kept turning - including through the night - to ensure even, slow cooking. American barbecue culture can probably claim the phenomenon, but this method of creating juicy-fall-off-the-bone pork is also seen in the Central & South Americas, and Asia, for example in the Philippines with their famed lechon (perhaps an American legacy in the country) which I enjoyed late last year.

Lechon being sold on the street, El Nido, Palawan, Philippines

Obviously cooking an entire pig is a luxury of time and money that not all of us can afford. So, in the day when the pork shoulder, or "Boston butt" in America, was an economical piece of meat to buy, as it was a fatty, tough-skinned, hard-working piece of meat, folks made lemonade out of lemons. They understood that slow-and-low cooking could make this piece of meat tender, flavourful, pull-apart and juicy.

I don't know about you, but I am often allured by the '8 to 14-hour slow-roasted pulled pork' on the menus, yet recently, I've become skeptical. The last few times I've encountered it, the pork has been dry, a little stringy, not all that flavourful. I find vendors often relying on their accompaniments, e.g. sauce or slaw, to try and salvage the lack of moisture that one comes to expect from pulled pork. (One exception, however, was the pulled pork burger I tasted a month ago at Duke's Brew & Cue in Hackney, London. Amaze.)

However, last night, I felt empathy. Whether it was that my pork shoulder was boneless (most recipes recommend bone-in for maximum flavour, which I'd attest to usually, but my shoulder was on sale and at a good price); and/or, that I just didn't leave it in the oven for long enough (6 hours at 140degC/285degF) to let the muscular tissue to break down and dissolve. The result, in any case, was dry pork with a thick layer of fat still existent under the skin. Next time, I will undoubtedly go for bone-in shoulder and at least 8 hours cooking time, or however long it takes to allow the meat to become spoonable. (I admit, I was late putting it in, impatient... and hungry!)

After 6 hours and resting before trying to achieve crispy skin (which I burned half of due to being impatient, again) 

In terms of flavour however, the pork was delicious. A little dry, yes, but tasty. I simply seasoned it in ample salt and pepper before roasting (however I'm curious that in Felicity Cloake's experimentation, she barely mentions pepper and favours sugar for basic seasoning - another aspect to test). I also set it atop quartered onions, garlic cloves and sliced carrots, to keep it elevated and allowing fat to drain off (cooking the carrots and onions to a gluttonous level). I regretted not rubbing in a little smoked paprika ten minutes after it went in the oven, in the after-thought of wanting to impart a slight smokiness, but as J. Kenji Lopez-Alt encourages, I was happy enough to allow my pork to sing for itself, leaving the extra flavours for the accompaniments.

My Love for Mexico, Part 2

If you're coming fresh to Part 2, see Part 1 for the lead-in. This is my ode to Mexican food and uses the leftovers from my Mexican-marinated chicken tacos with homemade cooked salsa, refried beans and avocado.

A note on refried beans: for convenience, I used a prepared can (La Costeña, to be exact) for the recipe. To save a couple dollars, and for homecooked-wholeness and health, if I had the time and foresight, I would soak some dried black beans overnight and cook them until tender in unsalted, boiling water. After draining, and retaining 1/4 cup of water, I'd add a generous amount of olive oil (start with a few tablespoons), the water and one finely chopped garlic clove to the beans, heating gently. As the garlic cooks through, stir and mash beans with a fork. Add either more water or oil to achieve a consistency you prefer (definitely not runny!). Season with salt and pepper, and a shake of smoked paprika for extra flavour.

So... you've got some cooked salsa, refried beans, red onion/cilantro, avocado, and tortillas leftover? And some eggs? Perfect, huevos rancheros it is!
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Huevos Rancheros (The below recipe is for 1, for more, you just need more salsa and eggs!)

I love cooking eggs like this. Basically, you're poaching the eggs in a sauce that also seasons and makes it into a complete meal. The Moroccans and north Africans do something similar, called 'shakshuka', where the tomato-based sauce features cumin and roast peppers more prominently.

2 eggs
Enough salsa to fill a small 15cm pan with a generous layer

Reheat salsa over medium heat, and when bubbling, make two wells in your salsa for the eggs. The deeper the better. Crack eggs, one at a time, into the formed wells. Reduce heat to low and cover pan with a lid. Check after 3-4 minutes. You can tell if the eggs are cooked by how much the yolks jiggle when you shake the pan. I prefer mine a little soft.

My first well (top) wasn't quite deep enough

As the eggs cook, prepare the rest of the dish. Reheat refried beans, and warm through tortillas in a dry pan over medium heat. When eggs are ready, you should be able to slide the eggs/salsa easily onto a plate. Season eggs with a pinch of salt and freshly cracked black pepper. Serve tortillas and refried beans topped with avocado (seasoned with black pepper) on the side. Top with cilantro/onion and a generous squeeze of lime juice.

Best breakfast/brunch/lunch, ever.

So, so good. And especially for the fact that it's full of good, healthy stuff! Even the black beans are very good for you, too. Let's face it, you can't be guilty with this one.

My Love for Mexico, Part 1

While I continue finishing a post on my recent travels through South East Asia, I wanted to mark my return to the pursuit of deliciousness with some food I prepared earlier. (Thanks to everyone who have been visiting during my hiatus, whether old or new readers, and even if you arrived here by accident, it still fills me with joy when I see my visitor counter going up!)

Slow-braised oxtail stew with carrots, peas and Goose Fat-roasted Sweet Potatoes
(photo courtesy of my brother's Instagram)

While life continues to sort itself out, I've been cooking. And because I'm in the northern hemisphere now, the produce just keeps getting better and better as we approach summer. Of course, at the sight of a full oxtail in the local butcher, I couldn't resist slow-braising it in some red wine and freshly made chicken stock (from the roast a night before) with a bay leaf, some garlic, onions and carrots... but last night, I reaffirmed my love for Mexico.

The inspiration came from seeing corn tortillas in one of the ethnic supermarkets, all the way from Guanajuato, Mexico and complete with the 'Hecho en Mexico' logo. The rest followed: some spare tomatoes in the kitchen, green onions, green peppers and iceberg lettuce on special, a bright leafy bunch of cilantro (coriander) from the Asian grocer, complete with it's roots, ripe avocados, limes, red onion, garlic, a can of tomatoes, a can of refried black beans (found next to the tortillas), and some essential herbs/spices (ground cumin, oregano, ground chilli, smoked paprika). A visit to Dublin's best butchery got me some chicken breasts to give my tacos extra excitement.

Breakfast in Mexico City, 2009

Having travelled* to Mexico for two months previously, I feel I have a really good understanding of Mexican flavours.  (*By now, everyone knows my 'travelling' means eating, right?) Whenever the stars align for some homemade comida mexicana at home, I am brought straight back to memories of eating tacos fresh from one-man food carts, standing around or sitting on plastic chairs with locals on the side of the street.