Hounds In The Kitchen » Meat

Cold Smoked Meat with the Hillbilly Hamhouse

Rachel Tayse — Thu, 01 Mar 2012 12:52:39 +0000

The hillbilly ham house hootenanny concludes today. Catch up on Part One: Why Build a Hillbilly Hamhouse and Part Two: How to Construct a Hillbilly Hamhouse.

So there she was, in all her glory. I ran her for a couple weekends to churn out some smoked meat to give away for Christmas. I poked me a thermometer thru the tinfoil a few times to check’er, and she was about 100 dee-grees, and that book on smokin’ meat—charcoalabalooza or somesuch name, it had—ennyway, I had Rachel read parts of it to me and it said 100 de-grees is about right.

I hadda go buy me some fish to smoke—they’s not bitin’ down at the crick, and them’s all got like two heads and talk funny and what-not ennyway, I ‘spect that comes from livin’ in the run-off of the coal-mine down the way, that’s a whole different story– but in true Mr. Tayse Christmas fashion, I foun’ me some pig roastin’ meat in the freezer, and made me up some o’ that good ol’ Canadian backbacon.

And, durned if that hillbilly hamhouse didn’t turn out some of the best durned backbacon and smoked salmon ever I laid a tooth to, even usin’ that ol’ oak that fell down two years ago for the smokin’ firewood instead o’ some fancy aldermanwood or whatever. Kinda tasted like some o’ that fancy wine they get outta Californi-a, that chardocuternnay or whatever, that kind all them pussies what drink white wine call “oaky”…

That thar's me on the left.

That son-in-law o’ mine, he brought out a sign fer the hillbilly hamhouse, so’s them’s seein’ it fer the first time’d know what she was, but me, I figger if you dunno by lookin’ what she is, you’re dumber than I is. But I’m right proud o’ that ol’ hamhouse, it dresses up the neighborhood, besides makin’ good eats.

I’m thinkin’ ‘bout mebbe expandin’ on it. I been wantin’ to smoke a whole hog, now. I gots me this ol’ chevy up on blocks out back, an’ I figger if set fire to that rustbucket, you know, to get rid o’ the plastic and stuff inside, then I could pipe the ol’ barbecue smoke down the hill into that chevy. I reckon could sit me a whole hog up in the driver’s seat to smoke, now there’d be a sight to please any hilljack—it’d be lak that ol’ hog’s drivin’ along in a cloud o’ smoke, mebbe I’d put a pregnant Winston in ‘is mouth just for show—and when he’s done, we’d have us some good eats too…

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Cold Smoked Meat with the Hillbilly Hamhouse is a post from Hounds In The Kitchen.
If you like what you read, please consider supporting us with a donation or visit the Hounds in the Kitchen shop for ebooks and favorite tools. Thanks!

Constructing the Hillbilly Hamhouse

Rachel Tayse — Tue, 28 Feb 2012 12:53:39 +0000

Rachel’s dad Mitch is contributing to the blog this week with his Mark Twain-esque story about making a hillbilly ham house. Start with Part 1 where he reasons out why to engage in the project. Today’s part 2 reviews the construction process.

Fer me, makin’ Christmas presents has jest one rule—I gotta use stuff I got aroun’ the house. I’s not spose to go roun’ buyin’ special tools an’ such. But that ain’t no big thang aroun’ my place—I saves me ‘bout ennythin’ a body’d ever need. I figger one day my life’ll depend on me makin’ me a washin’ machine or somethin’ outta the scrapwood, sheetmetal, and electric motors lyin’ roun’, and I’ll be set.

I already had me a durn good barbecue pit, so’s all’s I gone do was rig me up somethin’ to give that smoke fu’ther to go, a smoke-stack, to chill that smoke down, so i’d not be cookin’ that meat, but smokin’ it. Then I had to come up wi’ the house, somethin’ big enuf to lay the meat in, at t’other end.

For the stack, I’s thinkin’ I’d use me some o’ that CPVC tube I been savin’, fer when I put me in some indoor plumbin’. But I ain’t no dumbbell, whatever the little woman says, and I knowed that tube might likely melt, up near the pit end anyway. Plus, I done worked with that tube before, and turnin’ corners and glue and cuttin’ and all…sounded like more work than this ol’ briarhopper’s signin’ up fer. Then I lit on this ideer of usin’ tinfoil—it orta cool that smoke right quick, an’ I gots me a pile of it already—or the little woman do, anyway, an’ she won’ miss it.

That ol’ tinfoil tho’, I did ‘low it wouldn’t hold up by hisself. But I keeps chickenwire aroun’, jest in case I need to ketch me sum critters or whatnot, so’s I hacked me off a coupl hunks o’ that chickenwire and took to wrappin’ it roun’ a piece o’ that ol’ CPVC, for to get me that tee-yoobyoo-lahr shape on that chickenwire , don’t y’ know. Then I took an’ slid that ol’ chickenwire off that CPVC, slick as u please, and commenced to bendin’ it and crimpin’ it to itself, till I got me bout’ half the bend I was wantin’. I done that whol’ thang again with t’other hunk o’ that ol’ chickenwire, an’ I hooked them two pieces up together, crimpin’ them little hexie mesh bits down t’ each other, till I had me a tube lookin’ kinda like a P-trap under a sink (if I had me a sink, that is), maybe six feet long and ‘bout 3 or 4 inches wide.

I’s ‘bout ready to slap together some kinda box to be the hamhouse, mebbe some 1×2’s or 2×2’s knocked together and covered with more o’ that tinfoil, when my eyes lit on an ol’ roastin’ pan, ‘r box, ‘r whatever y’ call it, covered, sheet aluminum, a nice piece, what we’d not used in y’ars. Fact is, I’d bought it at a church ga-rage sale way back when, and the little woman never wanted to use it. It’s a big ol’ thing, only good for turkeys ‘r hams r such. Turns out when she cook them turkeys she likes to leave ‘m up open an’ uncovered most o’ the time anyway. Says she get better skin that way. Well, I reckon so. I sure gots no complaints where my vittles is concerned, I eats right good for an ol’ briar, so I’ll leave it up to her.

Ennyway I took me this ol’ covered roaster and figgered it’d finally get some use. The onliest problem I had was how to hook that there smokestack tube to this roastin’ box I had. I kept starin’ at that thang, wondering if I should maybe drill me some holes and’ hog ‘em out till they’s a big enough hole fer the stack, or mebbe try a hacksaw. I’s about ready to just beat on the thang with a hammer, that allus works good for most thangs.

Then I had me another ideer, and here’s whar another Christmas tradishyun come in—I allus have to borry some tools from my son-in-law Alex. Sometimes I even axe ‘im first ‘fore I takes ‘em. This time I stole a coupla hole saws. I chucked the bigger one—3 or 4 incher I dunno—and commenced to cuttin’ on the bottom of that roastin’ box.

Man I’ll tell you what, that steel cuttin’ tool went thru that aluminum like my ol’ clasp-knife slicin’ a sausage, and I was hummin’ and feelin’ good, like a pig in slop, why I’s just as pleased as I could be. Then that ol’ hole saw done cut thru on just a teeny little spot, and that drill she done grabbed that roastin’ pan and ripped it clean outta my hands. Yeah, I’m tellin’ y’ what, it like to busted my wrist-bones, right that, and that roastin’ box flew by my knee goin’ like sixty. I’s commencin’ to cussin’ a blue streak, an’ felt my ol’ wrist throbbin’ like I’d been muckin’ out stalls all day, but I picked him back up off that floor and I kep’ at it. That ol’ box, y’d think he was an ol’ catfish I’s guttin’, the way he shook and whined and twisted and bounced aroun’. Ennyway it did finally cut enough I could punch thru, an’ I had me the hole I’s wantin’.

Now it was time to hang this whole thang together so’s I could get to smokin’ me some meat. I wired that stack right up to the chimney pipe o’ that barbecue pit out on m’ back deck, and I lay that stack along the top of the deck rail. I snugged that hamhouse right up ag’in that ol’ chickenwire stack. I drilled me a few holes to take a few sheetmetal screws into that hamhouse, right up nex’ ter that hole I done cut out o’ it, like maybe at the 90-degree spots around the circle, about a quarter-inch from the hole. I wrestled that ol’ chickenwire stack thru the hole so’s I had an inch ‘r two of it stickin’ thru, and I bent it back like the bell on my ol’ pal Glenn’s trumpet, so’s I could screw it down to the hamhouse from the inside. I used a couple washers to glom onto that chickenwire a little better, but I di’n’t worry much bout it—it aint lak I’s fixin’ to put enny load on it, it ‘uz just to keep it hangin’ together..

Then that ol’ hamhouse wanted to move around. Yes it did, I sw’ar! It wuz gonna fall off the deck, or tip that good ol’ meat off into the woodpile or somethin’. I sw’ar that ol’ hamhouse, he ‘bout alive, the way he fought me and fought me…ennway, that deck what I’s workin’ on, the one on the back o’ my house? Well, it’s a downright tradgedy, is what it is, it’s so old and fallin’ apart, I figgered what’s one more mess on’t. I coulda done somethin’ purty like build me a nice OSB shelf on it—I done used that stuff to make that front door, don’t y’know, and it looks right nice there once I used a couple leftover cans o’ Rustoleum to cover up the saw marks. But that ol’ deck, it needs burned down or somethin’, and I ain’t about to spend time makin’ it look purty. Ennywho, to make a short story long, as it were, I just drilled a coupla more holes in the bottom of that hamhouse and jammed a coupla drywall screws right into the top rail o’ that ol’ deck, and thar he sat, tight down to that deck.

Then I commenced to wrappin’ that stack up with that tinfoil. I reckoned it’d cool’at smoke right down, and I foun’ out later I warn’t wrong on that too. I wrapped a few spots what looked like they’d leak some with that briarhopper band-aid, duct tape, but I warn’t too worried bout’t. In fact, I’s worry’tin about the fire gettin’ enuf draft, is what I was worry’tin about. I had it figgered if it wouldn’ draft good, I’d just rig me up a fan outta one o’ them ol’ cornpewters I keep lyin’ around fer just that reason, but I’s still a lazy ol’ hillbilly and I’s happy to leave that off if I could, and a few leaks here and there would help her to draft good, I figgered.

An’ so it was, in th’end—one I had her all wired up I started a fire in th’ ol’ pit, and sure enuf, she drew just fine. That hillbilly hamhouse, she filled up with smoke till it’d make yer eyes water, I sw’ar. Last thang I did wasta take and put in a couple ol’ short jelly glasses in the bottom o’ that ol’ hamhouse. I reckoned that meat needed to be up high in the house where all that smoke’d be, so them glasses raised the rack I up off the floor o’ that hamhouse. Turns out them glasses kep’ the meat up out o’ the juice and funk what drip down and collect on the bottom of her, too, which I hadn’t thunk of, but I didn’t let on that when I’s showin’ off to my fambly; it jest look like I’d been knowin’ that all along, an’ a man in my condition don’t need to be givin’ his fambly more ammunition when it come to pokin’ fun at ol’ Dad, y’see..

Tomorrow, the conclusion of the hillbilly ham house hootenanny: smoked meat!

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Constructing the Hillbilly Hamhouse is a post from Hounds In The Kitchen.
If you like what you read, please consider supporting us with a donation or visit the Hounds in the Kitchen shop for ebooks and favorite tools. Thanks!

Why Build a Hillbilly Hamhouse?

Rachel Tayse — Sun, 26 Feb 2012 12:54:33 +0000

While the Hound family is vacationing, Rachel’s dad is taking over the blog with a hillbilly hamhouse hootenanny. Stay tuned all week for the full story.

The thing is, I’s spose to make me something for to give away at Christmas. That’s what it started out as, ennyhow. I’s made sum burnt-wood pitchers in past y’ars, and oncet I made me a walkin’ stick outta some branch what fall on th’ roof one night. Man, I ‘lowed I’d never make one a’ them again, I’s sandin’ and planin’ and I dunno what-all, fer days and days, to that there walnut stick, tryin’ to get me 8 flat sides on the durn thang. So’s I could put me sum writin’ on it, don’tcha know. Ennyhow, It turned out all righ’, I reckon, leastways dotter Meg she said she lakked it real good. I’m still pickin’ sawdust outta my store-boughts, though. And, lemme tell y’all, thar ain’t nothin’ worse than bitin’ down on a good ol’ roastin’ ear and findin’ a walnut chip ‘tween yer gums and yer store-boughts.

Ennyway, dotter Rachel—she runs this cornpewter thang what’s called a bee-log, must be somethin’ to do with honey, I dunno—she done axed me to write me up somethin’ on how the hamhouse got bilt. Now I calls it a hamhouse, y’ know, cuz that sounded kinda high-toned fer them city folk what I done it fer. But ‘tween you ‘n me, t’ain’t nothin’ but an ol’ box for smokin’ some good ol’ pig parts. Anyway, she axed me to tell y’all how it wuz done.

I’d done decided I wasn’t gone make me no more wood stuff this y’ar. Mostly cuz my ga-rage’s all full up wi’ dotter Heather’s furniture an’ stuff, and I weren’t gonna blow sawdust all over all them nice things what she picked up down at the Goodwill store. I done that last y’ar and it warn’t pretty when the little woman seen what I done. My wife Cindy, she come out thar to that ga-rage and lak to bust a blood vessel when she seen all that sawdust all over that purty stuff out thar. I tried to tell ‘er I’s just coverin’ up the mouse turds, but when I showed ‘er that she swell up and ‘bout passed out cold.

Ennyhow I decided then and thar I’s not makin’ ennymore wood stuff till I had me a ga-rage back. I thought about usin’ dotter Sarah’s ol’ room, but i’s full o’ some more dotter’s stuff an’ ol’ squirrel pelts an’ fiddles an’ I dunno what-all, so I’s just givin’ up the belt-sander and workin’ with wood fer naow.

Lord how I do run on…ennyhow, about the hamhouse. I’s allus loved me some bacon, and barbecue, and I even lak me that smoked salmon, too, tho the boys down at the barbershop think I’s gone city on ‘em, eatin’ on that fish, all hoity-toity alder-wood juniper-berry cured smoked pickled, an’ sliced up real purty. Ennyway, I done heard you caint make bacon in a reg’lar barbecue pit, you gots to have a real smoke-house, so the smoke she get good and cold ‘fore it hit that meat. And it takes all kinda other stuff to make real smoked meats and stuff, I heard, so I figgered I’d just never get to make it. Shoot, the meat-cutter does a plumb good job with bacon, so I’s jest let it be.

Now an’ also, thar’s no way in the worl’ a married man lak me is gonna get away with spending hours an’ hours putterin’ aroun’ buildin’ some thang when he orta be cuttin’ the grass or some blamed thang. Exceptin’ when it’s Christmas. Then’s the time when all the wimmenfolk go plumb crazy and figger all us gone crazy too, and then’s the time we-uns menfolk can gets us somethin’ done. So I done decided I’d make me up a right fine cold smokin’ hamhouse and smoke me up some Christmas presents.

Stay tuned tomorrow for Part 2: Construction.

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Why Build a Hillbilly Hamhouse? is a post from Hounds In The Kitchen.
If you like what you read, please consider supporting us with a donation or visit the Hounds in the Kitchen shop for ebooks and favorite tools. Thanks!

Boudin and King Cake and Feast!

Rachel Tayse — Tue, 21 Feb 2012 14:03:26 +0000

One early morning in Monterey, California, I walked into my Russian Language classroom at the Defense Language Institute and was greeted with a most surprising smell. “Get over here an’ tear you off a hunk of boooo-dan!” Sargent Lyles he shouted in his heavy cajun accent that applied equally to the Russian we were learning.

“What’s that?” I mumbled, tired.

“Boudin! Sausage!” he replied, shoving a piece of hot meat on crusty bread into my hands.

I didn’t expect or wish for juicy spicy sausage at 0600, but I couldn’t help but love the foodie enthusiasm of ‘the Cajuns’, as we affectionately called Lyles and his good friend Lieutenant Eaves. Lyles and Eaves surprised myself and our fellow soldiers regularly with their experience with all realms of the real world. They recommended a 50/50 mix of Round-up and diesel fuel to remove weeds (effective, if not environmentally conscious), volunteered and knew precisely how to install a fence on a slope, and showed up to potluck meals with home-cooked Southern classics.

I will never forget their retelling of Mardi Gras in backwoods Louisiana.

Men dress in garish costumes and begin drinking early in the day. After parades, if there were any, they climb onto their horses. Next, they journey from house to house on a ‘stone soup’-like tradition that seems to have mutated over the years. Instead of collecting usable contributions to a community pot of gumbo, households throw pieces of raw chicken at the drunk, costumed horse riders. Eaves and Lyles were proud enough of the insane but ancient Courir de Mardi Gras to show video of their band of drunken men in chicken-juice-stained colorful clothes.

-Alex’s story, written by Rachel

Every year around this time, we reminiscence about The Cajuns and cook a Louisiana-inspired meal. This year we made boudin, a pork and rice sausage flavored with peppers and garlic. We used Emeril’s recipe. Unlike any other of the many batches of sausages we’ve made, this sausage is stuffed with cooked meat. It is then poached in hot water for service.

We spiced our boudin mildly in the hopes that our child diners would eat it. (Only the youngest ate more than a cursory bite.) To replicate the heat that Alex remembers, I created a spicy aioli to spread on crusty bread slices. Topped with boudin and pickled onions, this combination was indulgent, just right for the spirit of Mardi Gras.

The rest of dinner with friends included masks, shrimp etouffee, maque choux, and Abita beer.

Dessert had to be king cake. The lemon flavored dough rose slowly and steadily, baked to a golden brown and tasted rich. I found the charm (not having a baby Jesus figure, we substituted an Easter bunny) so I will gladly bake a king cake again next year.

Lyles and Eaves, wherever you are, we hope you are celebrating Mardi Gras in style today. Laissez les bons temps rouler!

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Boudin and King Cake and Feast! is a post from Hounds In The Kitchen.
If you like what you read, please consider supporting us with a donation or visit the Hounds in the Kitchen shop for ebooks and favorite tools. Thanks!

Bincho-tan at Freshstreet Yakitori

Rachel Tayse — Tue, 31 Jan 2012 19:48:09 +0000

Freshstreet Yakitori (previously Section 8 Yakitorium) has received a good bit of press lately. The reviews are universally great but no one has picked up on exactly what makes the Yakitorium so tasty and authentic.

It’s the bincho.

Bincho-tan is a special hardwood charcoal produced and imported from Japan. So far as I can find, no one else in Columbus (and possibly the state) is using this cooking fuel.

Bincho-tan is produced from oak by steaming the wood at high temperatures. The resulting charcoal burns at a lower temperature but for longer periods of time than traditional coals. More importantly to cooks, bincho-tan does not smoke.

Yakitori stands prefer bincho-tan, therefore, because it allows the true taste of the meat to come through the flames. The charcoal also powers a grill for many hours, allowing the chef to cook through a meal shift.

Yakitori the Freshstreet Way

Kenny Kim and Misako Ohba first brought Japanese street food to Columbus with their Foodie Cart crepes. They later added takoyaki (pancake-batter like savory balls filled with octopus or corn) and moved into a shack in the Short North. Yakitori is their latest endeavor, served late nights at the Double Happiness bar in the Brewery District.

Kenny and Misako import their bincho-tan from Japan through a Chicago importer. Several other ingredients including ramen noodles are obtained in this way. They invest great cost in importing these authentic goods because they are not satisfied with lesser replacements.

The pair skillfully skewer small bits of meat, some of it local, on wooden spikes so the meat rests evenly across the yakitori grill bricks. Traditional Japanese chicken thigh and skin are offered, as are more adventerous cuts like beef cheek, pork belly, tongue, and tuna. At least one vegetable is always available. Skewers run between $2-4.

Yakitori are grilled over hot bincho-tan to order. Some are served simply with lemon and salt; others are dipped in a soy-based sauce. The resulting meat has the crisp texture of a grilled product without excessive smokiness.

Wise visitors order a variety; I was surprised at how much I loved the unctuous beef cheek and also that I enjoyed okra cooked yakitori-style, as I don’t like it in any other preparation.

Other Japanese specialities compliment the yakitori, including an excellent take on okonomiyaki (savory cabbage pancakes) for $4. Diners can eat at the Double Happiness bar or in their comfy lounge. The bar makes notable soju (barley spirit) and sake cocktails, well matched to the Freshstreet food.

Despite, or perhaps because of, the Japanese street food authenticity, Freshstreet Yakitori is widely appealing to many palates. Kids will enjoy meat on a stick as much as adults. There is something for every diet and adventure-level.

If you go:

Freshstreet Yakitori at Double Happiness is a bit hard to find. It is just over the 70/71 split from downtown at Front and Brewer streets. Look for the slender building on the east side of the street across from Wasserstrom and Via Vecchia.
Current hours are Thursday – Saturday 6:30 – 11:59 pm.
Find parking on the street or nearby garages.
Prepare to wait 5-10 minutes for your food. Every dish is made to order.
Freshstreet crafts their menu to have options for gluten free, vegan, vegetarian, and low-carb diets. Be sure to specify if you are gluten free, especially, so that there is no contamination on the grill.

Freshstreet Yakitori at Double Happiness
482 S Front St
Columbus, OH 43215
(614) 220-5558

http://www.facebook.com/freshstreet
www.doublehappinessohio.com

NB. I will be cooking yakitori with the Freshstreet folks in Cleveland at a Brick & Mortar pop-up Japanese Festival this Thursday, February 2, at 6:30 pm. Tickets are still available for the event. Columbus Food Adventures has a few spots left for their road-trip adventure that includes the festival dinner, ride from Columbus and back, and a meet and greet with Chef Jonathon Sawyer.

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Bincho-tan at Freshstreet Yakitori is a post from Hounds In The Kitchen.
If you like what you read, please consider supporting us with a donation or visit the Hounds in the Kitchen shop for ebooks and favorite tools. Thanks!

Links I Love {Friday Five}

Rachel Tayse — Fri, 16 Dec 2011 13:25:00 +0000

I apologize for another list post but my mind is stuck on them right now. I have gift lists, guest lists, and grocery lists scattered around the house. When not making or checking off my lists, I read these five great articles this week:

1) It’s For You, Teacher Tom is a sweet reflection in the true meaning of gift giving, as observed with preschoolers.

2) If I Do Something Bad, Will You Still Love Me? by Amy Turn Sharp makes me feel all funny inside. She can do that with the shortest stories and I am always amazed.

3) The Chicken In The Snow is Lil’s latest blog post. She wrote the comic after we saw a little snowfall and wondered how our chicken Austra must feel.

4) Alex pointed out the Most Popular Photography Tips, Tricks and Hacks post by Lifehacker. I hope to find some time to dig through all the ideas soon.

5) I was thrilled to see my name among the Charcutepalooza Semi-Finalists list. I am so appreciative of those who followed along and supported my meaty writing. If you liked my posts, click through to some of the other sites – I’m among some amazing bloggers!

Did you read anything great this week?

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Links I Love {Friday Five} is a post from Hounds In The Kitchen.
If you like what you read, please consider supporting us with a donation or visit the Hounds in the Kitchen shop for ebooks and favorite tools. Thanks!

Sweetheart, Sweet Heart {Charcutepalooza}

Rachel Tayse — Tue, 06 Dec 2011 17:53:04 +0000

My final Charcutepalooza post, on the topic of showing off, takes the form of two family stories.

Origins of the Sweetheart

Once upon a time in 13th century Europe, lived Devorguilla of Galloway. Devorguilla was a woman of substance (i.e. wealthy land owner) whose parents arranged her marriage to John de Baliol.

Read more of the Baliol family history on Tom Baillieul’s website if you wish – it’s pretty fascinating stuff! Tom, Alex’s father, also painted and graciously allowed me to use the Devorguilla/John de Baliol crest on the right.

When John died in 1269, Devorguilla embalmed his heart and enshrined in a decorative ivory box to accompany her everywhere. Legend has it that Devorguilla had this heart seated at the opposite head of her dinner table and donated John’s portion of the meal to the hungry.

History shows that Devorguilla likely coined the term ‘sweetheart’ through her dedication to John even after his death. In 1290, she was buried with John’s heart at a Cistercian monastery she founded with the name ‘Sweetheart Abbey’.

Consumption of the Sweet Heart

703 years after the death of Devorguilla, her descendant Alex Baillieul was born. Alex grew to be an adventurous traveler and cook proud of his Balliol heritage.

Alex’s wife Rachel embarked on a year long charcuterie project in 2011, the culmination of which was to be a dish or meal that showed off four styles of meat curing. At the same time as the final Charcutepalooza project assignment, Rachel and Alex intended to attend a CMH Dinner Club with the theme ‘show your roots’.

Rachel could think of no ‘roots’ story better than that of Devorguilla. She knew that she and Alex had to create an edible sweet heart.

Rachel bought a beef heart from Blues Creek Meats. She, Alex, and Lil examined the anatomy, identifying the aorta and chambers while marveling at the mass of the muscle.

Noticing very little fat (or inedible bits), the curing plan became clear: the heart would be cooked slowly in goose and bacon fat. A recipe on From Belly to Bacon confirmed that confit is an appropriate technique for this unusual cut of meat.

When tender, 12 hours after cooking, Alex cooled the heart in the fat. To serve it, he sliced the muscle into thin pieces and seared them in a hot pan. Rachel prepared a rosemary honey drizzle to garnish the sweet heart.

Rachel and Alex ultimately were unable to attend the CMH dinner club. Instead they served sweet heart, fermented Spanish-style chorizo, duck prosciutto, squirrel rilletes, homemade cornichons, and sour cherry preserves on a charcuterie platter for Thanksgiving with extended family, retelling the story of Devorguilla.

Adventurous diners were surprised at the luxurious heart. It was beefy and rich with melt-in-your-mouth texture. Lil declared it “better than hamburger”. Devorguilla’s namesake, the big hound Devie, heartily approved of the dish, complaining only that she did not get more pieces as treats.

Sweet heart, a dish honoring an ancient relative with the ancient art of charcuterie, was the perfect ending to a year of cured meat.

Final Relfections

I, Rachel, entered the Charcutepalooza challenge with a fair amount of meat curing experience. Any fears of raw meat, botulism, icky meat casings, and expensive investments had already been overcome at the beginning of 2011. Instead, I took on Charcutepalooza as a lens through which to explore food writing and expose more people to the dark secrets of the meat hanging in my basement.

I attempted to record each challenge in a unique way – I told fiction, humor and non-fiction stories, shared new and interpreted recipes, showed off charcuterie in pictures and video, and opined on marriage, meat sourcing, squirrel and vegetarianism. Some of these posts were quite a stretch for my skills and patience but I advanced to spread the love of cured meat.

There is a fabulous trip to France awaiting one of the Charcutepalooza participants. I do not envy Cathy and Kim who must judge the entries. Fortunately, I feel like a winner already because this challenge has strengthened my confidence as a writer and home cook. It even convinced my family that heart is a sweeeeeeet meat.

[print_this]

Sweet Heart (Beef Heart Confit with Rosemary Honey)
Makes: 50+ appetizer servings
Time: 12 hours cooking, 48 hours infusion for honey

1/2 cup local lightly-flavored honey
1 stalk fresh rosemary

1 beef heart (4-5 pounds of meat)
salt
2-3 quarts of goose, pork, or duck lard (we used a mix of all three)

1. Fold rosemary stalk to fit into the bottom of a half pint jar.
2. Cover rosemary with honey. Put a lid on the jar and set aside at room temperature for 2 or more days, until infusion reaches your desired taste.
3. Salt beef heavily inside and outside of the heart cavity. Chop into large pieces as necessary to fit in an oven-safe pan or pot.
4. Liquefy lard by heating it on the stove top.
5. Pour fat over the heart until all parts of the meat are covered.
6. Place in a 200 degree oven for 12 hours until meat is tender.
7. Cool the heart while submerged in fat. Under refrigeration, the heart keeps indefinitely.
8. For service, remove heart from fat by reheating on the stove top and straining off the fat when it is liquefied. (Fat may be reserved for future use.)
9. Slice the heart into pieces 1/8 inch thick.
10. Heat a cast iron skillet over high heat. Quickly sear heart slices and place on a bed of arugula or other lettuce on a platter. Drizzle with rosemary honey.

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Sweetheart, Sweet Heart {Charcutepalooza} is a post from Hounds In The Kitchen.
If you like what you read, please consider supporting us with a donation or visit the Hounds in the Kitchen shop for ebooks and favorite tools. Thanks!

A Six Year Old Makes Lardo & Rat Creature Quiche {Charcutepalooza}

Rachel Tayse — Thu, 01 Dec 2011 13:00:00 +0000

The eleventh Charcutepalooza challenge is curing. Alex and I have cured and dried many meats including saucisson sec, fermented chorizo, and coppa.

I asked my daughter Lillian to complete this challenge with me. She’s been around hanging meat for most of her life. Curing requires minimal skill and can be left for days at a time, perfect for the distractable mind of a six year old. Watch how Lil cures lardo:

While the lardo cured and dried, our family began reading Columbus-native Jeff Smith’s iconic juvenile comic series Bone. One character in the book, an adversarial rat creature, is so mesmerized by quiche that he wants to cook the protagonist Bones into quiche, dreams about quiche, and even argues so adamantly about quiche that the Bones repeatedly escape capture. For the rest of the series, the Bones call the quiche-loving, negligent soldiers ‘stupid, stupid rat creatures’.

As Lil says in the video, she doesn’t like lardo raw but loves it cooked like bacon. We cooked some salted, dried back fat into a quiche that a Lil’ rat creature might like – no green stuff or spice. We arranged a few strips of lardo into a star pattern on the center, another recurring theme in Bone.

Alas, our lardo-making daughter did not like the quiche. Alex and I, however, think the the stupid rat creatures were right on: quiche is a great way to enjoy cured meat.

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Stupid Rat Creature Quiche
Makes: 6
Time: 20 minutes preparation, 40-50 minutes baking

4 ounces lardo, diced, plus several slices for garnish if desired
5 eggs, beaten
3/4 cup whole milk
1/2 teaspoon salt
10 grinds fresh black pepper
1 cup shredded cheddar
single pie crust (my recipe here)

1. Preheat oven to 350 degrees F.
2. Cook lardo in a skillet until lightly browned, drain fat.
3. In a mixing bowl, beat together eggs, milk, salt and pepper.
4. Line a 9-inch quiche or pie pan with crust. Tuck under edges and finish with a fork or fingers.
5. Scatter lardo and cheese on the bottom of the crust.
6. Pour egg mix over the top.
7. Bake in oven for 40-50 minutes or until top is browned.
8. Cut into six slices and serve.

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This post is a part of the year-long Charcutepalooza challenge. Read below for our other meat-curing adventures and reflections.

Modern Mistletoe: Meat, Marriage, & Duck Prosciutto Pizza
Waste Not, Want Not Squirrel Rillettes
English Pork Pie Photojournal
Almost All-Ohio Mouselline
How to Make Hot Dogs Like a Girl
Mint Lamb Sausage Inspired by Jorgensen Farms
Taco Truck Chorizo Sopito
Red’s Canadian Bacon or Why I Had to Kill a Pig To Eat Meat Again
The Story of the Rachel
Salt Cure Old and New
Cider Syrup Bacon

Added to Simple Lives Thursday.

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A Six Year Old Makes Lardo & Rat Creature Quiche {Charcutepalooza} is a post from Hounds In The Kitchen.
If you like what you read, please consider supporting us with a donation or visit the Hounds in the Kitchen shop for ebooks and favorite tools. Thanks!

Modern Mistletoe: Meat, Marriage, & Duck Prosciutto Pizza {Charcutepalooza}

Rachel Tayse — Tue, 22 Nov 2011 14:00:00 +0000

I recently mentioned on twitter that having the first meat of the season hanging in the basement made me feel like our house was a home again. Someone (who are you? I can’t find the tweet now!) replied “It’s modern mistletoe!”

That got me to thinking about how meat curing is a tasty metaphor for my nearly-eleven-year-long marriage to Alex.

Curing meat takes time and attention from both parties in our house. We help each other to procure the ingredients, turn the meat in cure, and check it as it dries.

Some couples like to have independent hobbies but we like being in each other’s business. Even before I ate meat, I assisted Alex with charcuterie because it’s a fascinating hobby.

Meat curing and marriage benefit from a healthy dose of humor. Much of making bacon (or duck prosciutto in this case) is icky work – there’s raw meat, mildly-toxic salt, and the possibility of insects being attracted to the drying meat. The cure for the gross parts of curing is to laugh. We make jokes (sausage is especially good for word play), gently tease, and sometimes try to drip meat juice on a spouse during a photo shoot. It’s all good fun.

When meat is done curing, we cook up creative dishes together. In the case of the duck prosciutto, we added it to homemade pizza. Alex made the dough and I popped open a jar of my home-canned tomato sauce. We added a pile of arugula and mozzarella before topping the ‘za with thin prosciutto slices and a grate of Parmesan.

Alex and I enjoyed the pizza with a glass of wine and candle on the table in the company of our daughter Lil (who also served as the photographer for the three portraits above). We savored the from-scratch food we made together.

Curing meat challenges us to work together, listen to each other, and enjoy the finer things in life. Meat IS our modern mistletoe, the object under which we find love.

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Duck Prosciutto Pizza
Makes: 1 12-inch pizza
Time: 2 hours dough, 20 minutes assembly, 7-10 minutes cooking

1/4 recipe homemade pizza dough
1/4 cup tomato sauce
3 ounces fresh arugula
1/2 cup shredded mozzarella cheese
2 ounces duck prosciutto, sliced as thinly as possible
1/4 cup freshly grated Parmesan cheese

1. Heat oven to 450 degrees F with a baking stone on center rack.
2. Make a thin circle from the dough and place on a cornmeal dusted pizza peel or back of a cookie sheet.
3. Top pizza with a bit of tomato sauce, then arugula and mozzarella cheese.
4. Arrange duck prosciutto and top with Parmesan.
5. Transfer pizza to the baking stone.
6. Bake for 7-10 minutes until cheese is melted and slightly brown. Remove from oven, let rest 1-2 minutes, cut, and serve.

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This post is a part of the year-long Charcutepalooza challenge. Read below for our other meat-curing adventures and reflections.

Waste Not, Want Not Squirrel Rillettes
English Pork Pie Photojournal
Almost All-Ohio Mouselline
How to Make Hot Dogs Like a Girl
Mint Lamb Sausage Inspired by Jorgensen Farms
Taco Truck Chorizo Sopito
Red’s Canadian Bacon or Why I Had to Kill a Pig To Eat Meat Again
The Story of the Rachel
Salt Cure Old and New
Cider Syrup Bacon

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Modern Mistletoe: Meat, Marriage, & Duck Prosciutto Pizza {Charcutepalooza} is a post from Hounds In The Kitchen.
If you like what you read, please consider supporting us with a donation or visit the Hounds in the Kitchen shop for ebooks and favorite tools. Thanks!

Thanksgiving Recipe Roundup {Friday Five}

Rachel Tayse — Fri, 18 Nov 2011 14:48:55 +0000

Is your Thanksgiving menu finalized?

My mother is hosting dinner this year so Alex and I are responsible for very little. We’re bringing a charcuterie platter for the appetizer, brussels sprouts (probably pan roasted with homemade bacon) and Alex’s dressing.

If your menu isn’t full of family traditions, here are five suggestions for seasonal but unique additions to the table:

1)Buffie Wellies – a tasty rich buffalo appetizer
2) Cranbellini – Add one ounce of cranberry liqueur (yes, there’s still time to make it!) to the bottom of a champagne flute. Top with sparkling wine and serve a fruity ruby red cocktail during appetizers
3) Mushroom Pie – vegetarian entree or earthy side dish
4) Cranberry Bread – an easy way to use cranberries other than sauce
5) Turkey Stock – even though we aren’t cooking the bird this year, I hope we can claim the carcass for stock making.

Are you hosting or contributing to Thanksgiving dinner? If so, what will you make? Feel free to link recipes in the comments.

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Thanksgiving Recipe Roundup {Friday Five} is a post from Hounds In The Kitchen.
If you like what you read, please consider supporting us with a donation or visit the Hounds in the Kitchen shop for ebooks and favorite tools. Thanks!