by Bruce Steele | May 29, 2015 | Mangalitsa Pigs
By Francesca Shanks on May 1, 2015
This book is a love letter to a unique Hungarian pig breed, a breed whose history seems miraculous when compared to America’s agricultural traditions.
The curly-haired Mangalitsa’s “genetics have remained untouched since 1833”—an almost unbelievable story for those acquainted with large-scale agriculture in the U.S. But raising these pigs is a long game—they aren’t bred to fatten up quickly. They’re renowned for their taste and the quality of their lard, and they’ve found their way to several of the country’s highest-rated restaurants in recent years.
But, according to the book’s authors, this almost wasn’t so: in the early 1990s, less than 200 Mangalitsa pigs remained, prompting Peter Toth and a partner to buy a herd of 50 from a Hungarian farmer in order to expand the Mangalitsa’s numbers. Today, Toth is president of the Hungarian National Association of Mangalitsa Breeders, and, he writes, the breed is 10,000 strong.
TheMangalitsa_recipes-1Mangalitsa pigs are now (again) a big part of Hungarian cuisine, as 23 Hungarian chefs demonstrate with recipes that incorporate Mangalitsa cuts, from lard to brain to loin. Each beautifully photographed recipe comes with a short chef profile and detailed instructions—make Zsolt Litauszki’s Mangalitsa rillette in breadcrumbs with fermented wax beans, or simply marvel at Antonio Fekete’s “Apple dessert,” a white chocolate-covered molded apple mousse complete with dark chocolate stem (no pig included in this recipe).
If you’re desperate to taste Mangalitsa for yourself, there’s a list, including a map, of Hungarian restaurants at the back of the book, plus a couple of pages advertising Mangalitsa farmers in the U.S.
This beautiful book, with gold-embossed title and incredible photography, is translated from Hungarian, which, unfortunately, results in some typographical errors. This may drive you crazy if you’re an editor type, but don’t let it get in the way of the opportunity to read about this fascinating pig breed. If you are interested in a story that merges fine cuisine with a passion for animal husbandry, you’ll enjoy The Mangalitsa Pig, and probably learn something, too.
The Mangalitsa Pig: Royalty is Coming to America
by Mate Dobesch, Wilhelm W. Kohl, Peter Toth, Beata Bencsics, Eszter Szalai (Translator)
247 pages; Boook Publishing Hungary, 2014
Read the original post: modernfarmer.com
by Bruce Steele | May 11, 2015 | What Chefs Say
The Huffington Post | By Julie R. Thomson
In a not so distant past (about a century ago) and in a not so foreign land (like, in America), lard was the fat that people cooked with. It wasn’t butter. Nor canola oil. And definitely not extra virgin olive oil.
Lard — rendered pig fat — was what people used when they needed to make pastry; when dinner needed frying; and even as a quick breakfast, eaten smeared on a piece of bread. So much has changed in our recent history. Lard is not only out of favor, it’s even considered a derogatory word.
We’re not going to get into how or why this happened — though Crisco and Upton Sinclair have gotten most of the blame — we’d just like to focus on bringing this glorious cooking (and baking) fat back into people’s kitchens. It’s time to let go of the lard stigma and enjoy great pie crust again. Let us make our case:
- Lard makes the best fried chicken. Crisp like a spring morning.
- It’s an extremely versatile fat. It doesn’t smoke at high temperatures so it’s perfect for frying. It does wonders while roasting. And its large fat crystals mean it makes the flakiest of pastries.
- Mexican tamales just wouldn’t be the same without it. Word.
- It has less saturated fat than butter. (Though not the same glorious flavor.) We’re not going to make any health claims about lard — because what do we Taste editors know about health? — but we can report what we’ve learned: lard has 20 percent less saturated fat than butter; it’s higher in monounsaturated fats which are said to lower LDL cholesterol; and it has none of the trans fat that shortening does. Chew on that.
- It makes for the flakiest of pie crusts. And one that’s pliable and easy to form.
- Despite what you may think, it does not impart a pork flavor. This is not bacon grease here, but rendered lard — preferably leaf lard which surrounds the loin and kidneys. It makes everything cripsy without leaving a trace of flavor behind.
- Vegetables roasted in lard come out crisper than you thought possible. As much as we love olive oil roasted veggies, sometimes they’re just too greasy and, well, a little soggy too.
- It’s sustainable. Cooking with lard is one way of guaranteeing you use every part of the hog. Some of the best restaurants, like Husk, are focused on that aim and bringing lard into fine dining.
- Biscuits. A southern lard biscuit recipe will make you wonder why you mess with anything else.
- Lard is even good on a piece of bread, in place of butter. Try it.
Read the original story: www.huffingtonpost.com
by Bruce Steele | May 1, 2015 | Mangalitsa Pigs, What Chefs Say
by Kerry Acker | www.epicurious.com | February, 2014
Not all pork products are created equal. Just imagine for a moment that money was no object, that no supernal slice of lavishly marbled ham or haute hunk of succulent pork was too high-end or high-falutin’ for your budget. Here, our mini guide to some of the finest, most exclusive, pork, ham, and bacon in the world.
Jamon Iberico de Bellota
Celebrated El Bulli chef Ferran Adria once said of this traditionally cured Spanish ham, “Iberian pork meat is extraordinary. There’s nothing like it elsewhere in the world. There’s a great difference between a superior ham and all the rest.”
Raised along the Spain/Portugal border, the pata negra (black-hooved) pig roams free-range through old-growth oak forests, dining on herbs, grass, and, most significantly, acorns (bellota means “acorn”), resulting in an intensely flavored, distinctly nutty, and richly marbled meat unparalleled in the ham universe.
Get It: A 14.5-pound bone-in whole Jamon Iberico de Bellota ham from elite Spanish brand Cinco Jotas retails for $1,290 at La Tienda. But, wait, you’ll need to properly slice it, too, so consider investing in the Cinco Jotas Cortador kit–including a 13-pound bone-in Bellota ham, a black ham holder, two carving knives, serving pincers, and a protective chain-mail glove–which will set you back $2,450.
Culatello di Zibello
Among the rarest, most highly esteemed charcuterie in Italy, culatello is a boneless ham with a velvety texture and a robust, slightly sweet flavor. Produced in the foggy Po Valley, outside of Parma, culatello (“little backside”) is made from the muscle in the rear leg of the pig, and is related to prosciutto, but pig purists consider the version labeled with the D.O.P. “Culatello di Zibello” superior to its cousin. Because it takes a whole ham to make the culatello, and producers must adhere to strict D.O.P. regulations–including using only pigs born and raised in Lombardia or Emilia-Romagna, and a slow aging (without refrigeration) of 12 to 20 months–Culatello di Zibello is pretty hard to find. (Approximately 20,000 pieces of culatello are produced annually.)
Get It: Head to Italy’s lovely Antica Corte Pallavicina, a hotel/restaurant situated in Polesine Parmense and run by Chef Massimo Spigaroli, chairman of the Consortium of the Culatello di Zibello since its inception and widely considered one of the best producers of the exclusive ham. You can visit the on-site cellars, where the ham is aged to meltingly tender perfection, then sample it afterward at the Michelin-starred restaurant.
A Mangalitsa pig
Mangalitsa Pork, Bacon, and Lard
This rare breed of pig, the result of a 19th-century Austro-Hungarian experiment cross-breeding a wild boar with a pig raised for lard, is pretty darn funny-looking: Its distinct “fleece” coat gives it the look of a sheep-pig–which is why the Mangalitsa is also known as a “woolly pig”–and the pigs can weigh over 300 pounds. The animal was near extinction until the 1990s, when a Hungarian breeder revived it, and in recent years a handful of American farmers have started raising Mangalitsas. Though the woolly pigs are more expensive to produce than other heritage breeds, the buttery meat has been enjoying considerable popularity among chefs: Mangalitsa pork has been served on menus at the likes of the French Laundry, Le Cirque, and Blue Hill Stone Barns, and it’s also increasingly available as cured ham, bacon, and other products.
Get It: D’Artagnan sells a bone-in 12- to 16-pound Mangalitsa ham–dry-cured in Spain–for $400, Murray’s offers bacon ($17/12 oz.) from New Jersey-raised Mangalitsa pigs, and Florida-based Pasture Prime sells ground Mangalitsa pork, lard, and custom pork.
Edwards’ Surryano Ham
When it comes to dry-cured American ham, Surry, Virginia’s Edwards’ Surryano is a fabulous bet. Produced from Berkshire hogs and other heritage breeds–who dine on peanuts, grass, corn, and soy, according to Food Republic’s interview with Sam Edwards–the meat is dry-cured, smoked over hickory wood for seven days, then aged for 400 days. The ham that results is rich, smoky, and silky, and beloved by such chefs as David Chang, who serves it at Momofuku Ssam Bar.
Get It: A 15- to 17-pound bone-in Surryano will set you back $215, while $39 will get you 3.4 ounces of sliced Surryano heaven.
Benton’s Bacon
North Madisonville, Tennessee’s Benton’s Country Hams, famous for its world-class traditional dry-cured ham and (also dry-cured) bacon, is another American company that just makes us proud. New York Times writer John T. Edge said it best: “Allen Benton is the rock star of American bacon. There’s just something very primal about his bacon. It’s like barbecue and is so distinctive.” Chef devotees of Benton’s intensely, beautifully smoky bacon are many, and include David Chang, Sean Brock, and Hugh Acheson, to name just a few.
Get It: Four 1-pound packs of Benton’s famous hickory-smoked bacon cost just $26 via Benton’s website, but bear in mind that there may be a 5-week delay in delivery–which you will totally understand once you taste this extraordinary bacon, which would satisfy even the pickiest one-percenter.
Originally posted: 2/18/2014 : http://www.epicurious.com
by Bruce Steele | Apr 26, 2015 | Mangalitsa Pigs
Original post: http://www.breakingbutcher.com/
This post is about a certain Mangalitza breed of pig and the beautiful fat that IS this pig. I had no idea how much fat these pigs had until I worked with Yorkshire/Duroc breeds the entire time I was in France and then returned to Indiana to work on my first Mangalitza. I had exposure to the breed before, but that was when I would only watch someone break down a pig, before I knew how to handle one myself. This was before I had seen any other kind of pig except a Mangalitza. I assumed all pigs had this much fat. Then I started hearing commentary about the amount of fat, mostly negative because to raise these pigs just wasn’t financially feasible with the amount of meat available. I didn’t know, I took what I heard and stored it away for a time I figured I would get to form my own opinion and that time is now.
I may have lost a few of my readers already, for that I apologize. Allow me to back up a few steps and try to get everyone on the same post. An increasing number of heritage breed pig farmers have been popping up in the United States, heritage breeds are a special, sometimes rare breed of pig. From what I have gathered most farmers, cooks, and informed consumers have a preference as to which pig he or she fancies. Mangalitza is a type of heritage breed and happens to be the breed of pig that is raised at the farm that supplies meat to the restaurant where I work. This really isn’t a debate about which breed is better to me. I have had delicious products from many different breeds of pigs and I have come to decide that in the right hands basically any pig can be turned into something delicious. However, with that said, the most best breed of pig I have ever eaten is the Black Gascon.
Enough about what is better, I am talking about the Mangalitza and everything else can wait until another day. When I saw the back fat on a Mangalitza the first time after I had returned from France it shocked me. Literal shock, I froze, collapsed, and started convulsing on the floor… that isn’t true. So I picked that bad boy up and tossed him onto the chopping block. I wish that I would have measured the length of the solid mass of fat that towered on the crest of the pigs spine. Just from memory I want to say it was roughly 5-6 inches of beautiful creamy white fat. Fast forward to after three sides of pig where broken down, all products were fabricated, including right around 30 four inch by four inch chunks of lardo ready to cure, and enough back fat to add to freshly trimmed ham meat for saucisson. After everything was cut and salted I was left with pounds and pounds of the best back fat a pig can offer. I rendered some of it for lard and then found myself contemplating what to do with the rest. It seemed a shame to simply render the fat for lard and I didn’t want to freeze it for a later use. I felt that there had to be something to do to showcase this delicious fat and the fact that this is what these pigs are known for. When in doubt, eat.
I have heard people say that chops from Mangalitza’s aren’t really worth the money and hassle of raising the pig. After cutting my own bone in chops and leaving a beautiful cap of fat on each one, enough fat to say to a consumer, “I am a Mangalitza pork chop,” I have to say I was skeptical myself. There just really is not a lot of lean meat to be had in the loin section. I saved part of one of the loins for rillettes and after trimming the fat completely off the meat section of the boneless loin was almost laughably small. Then I had a bite of a seared Mangalitza chop, then another bite, and another, there is hardly a need for meat with fat that flavorful. My opinion quickly shifted and instead of viewing this breed of pig in comparison to another breed of pig I started to view the Mangalitza as the deliciously fatty pig that it is.
It was this feasting moment between myself and a fatty Mangalitza chop that inspired me to make more from the leftover fat than just lard, although the lard is great. I felt that if I was going to be receiving Mangalitza pigs to fabricate and put on a menu then the fat should be showcased. I wanted to leave more fat on the chops, make more lardo, and figure out how to make all these pounds of back fat into something that could serve to make delicious back fat shine as the main component in a dish. I hit the books and thumbed through multiple pages before my eyes stumbled upon Jamie Bissonette’s book, “The New Charcuterie Cookbook.” In his book he has a great recipe for whipped flavored lardo. He cooks the fat, strains the liquid, presses the fat, and then whips the cooled fat with different flavors to make spreads. This sounds delicious and it is what I intended to do with the fat I had. One of the first things I learned my one and only semester in culinary school is to read a recipe the entire way through before starting on a dish. I was only in culinary school for one semester so I clearly forgot this lesson. What I did was mess up Jamie’s recipe. I added all the flavorings to the raw fat, rendered everything together, and pressed the cooked, flavored fat. I knew that I had messed up, but at this point there was no return. I had no intention of whipping the fat like Jamie recommends. My mind was still in France and it was thinking about one of my favorite dishes called grattons that were made from pressed rendered fat. I went ahead and pressed the flavored mass overnight. The next day I came in and released the now beautifully pressed block of fat from its mold. What a fantastic result, it sliced like a cheese, it showcased the pressed ivory white chunks of fat, and retained just enough flavor to be extremely interesting when eaten like a fatty cheese.
I have sense waited to add most of the flavorings until after the fat is cooked, right before pressing, but the finished product is a thing of beauty. The flavorings get into all the nooks and crannies and cook a slight amount when added to the hot cooked fat, the different shaped fat chunks form a beautiful mosaic presentation, and the flavor is outstanding. A small slice set on my tongue easily melted away and left my mouth coated with fat and flavor. I have converted about 30 pounds of fat back into this cheese like fat product and sense returning from France it is the one thing that I most excited about at this point in my culinary life. In conclusion, I now love the Mangalitza for what they are, extremely fatty pigs. Isn’t this what I trained to do, use every part of a pig for the optimum benefit? If it is Mangalitza’s that I am dealing with I will now find a way to showcase the fat, not shy away from it, because that is what is special about these pigs. So for today, let us raise a glass for the delightfully wooly beasts that are the Mangalitza’s. Enjoy.
by Bruce Steele | Apr 18, 2015 | Mangalitsa Pigs, What Chefs Say
Jaume Guerra looks at me with a blank stare when I ask how he became interested in the world of Spanish hams. “Ham is a part of life in Spain,” he says, as if it was inevitable that he would become a master carver of piernas. I’m meeting with Guerra for a tutorial in Spanish jamónes, which, like any food or drink, become increasingly complex and fascinating the more you learn about them. As a greater variety of hams from Spain becomes available at U.S. grocery stores and from specialty purveyors, including Despaña and D’Artagnan, jamón aficionados may find themselves suddenly bewildered by the proliferation of choices in the meat department.
Jamón serrano, the Spanish ham almost every meat eater knows, has been available in the U.S. for about 17 years, Guerra explains, but it has recently been joined by the ibérico hams, the cebo and bellota varieties, and the lesser known (and considerably more expensive) mangalica. What are the differences among these three? And aside from asking for a sample and letting your taste buds make the decision for you, what should you know when you go to buy a Spanish ham?
Guerra gave TLK a crash course on the subject, explaining everything from how and what the pigs are fed and how long the hams are cured, to the characteristics you should look for in an exceptional Spanish ham, the carving instructions you should offer at the meat counter when you’re placing your order, and how you should serve and eat your ham at home.
Next, a look at the most famous Spanish hams…
Jamón Serrano
Jamón serrano is a working-class ham, the variety you keep on hand for day-to-day consumption, cooking (say, for croquetas and simple bocadillos), and for kids, according to Guerra. While your local meat counter is likely to have a wide selection of serranos, Guerra cautions that few of the brands sold in the U.S. are of high quality. “Large, corporate producers can afford to enter the export market,” he explains, “and the result is an abundance of mediocre hams.” Because they are exported in greater quantities and are cheaper than other Spanish hams, serranos, which are dry-aged for about a year, are often the victims of shortcuts in that aging process, which is what endows all Spanish hams with their rich flavor.
In Guerra’s opinion, the best jamón serrano available in the U.S. is by Jamónes Segovia. Don’t make the mistake of thinking that a ham marketed as having a denominación de orígen, or D.O., assures its quality. “Treat ham the same way you treat wine,” Guerra advises. “A wine with a D.O. from Rioja only means it’s from Rioja and was made under certain conditions; the D.O. itself doesn’t assure that you’re drinking a great wine.”
Jamón Ibérico
Jamón ibérico is a step—a big one—above serrano, because most of the pigs that yield the cebo and bellota varieties of ibérico are free-range and their aging processes are longer. Bellota is better known in the U.S. than cebo, primarily because the acorn-fed pigs have achieved near mythical status here, thanks to media outlets that have portrayed the pigs as coddled darlings. According to Ignacio Saez de Ibarra, general manager of Pata Negra and Imperial Chorizo in New York, a farmer can only have so many pigs, since a single bellota hog needs two full acres of acorn trees to achieve its harvesting weight.
In both cases, though, the fact that the pigs get to wander freely means that they’re exercising more than pigs being raised and fattened in commercial pens, and that, in turn, means they’re developing more intramuscular fat. The result? A richer flavor than the serranos. Ibéricos are also aged longer: cebos for 18-36 months, and bellotas for a minimum of 36 months.
“The Ibéricos are meant to be savored,” says Guerra, “to be part of an experience, to open the appetite. They’re a rich ham, ideal for degustaciónes or tastings.”
Jeffrey Weiss, author of the excellent and comprehensive guide to Spanish charcuterie, Charcutería, the Soul of Spain, offers tips for bringing the ibéricos to your table. Serve these with a fino sherry, he recommends; “It’ll knock your socks off!” At his restaurant, jeninni kitchen + wine bar, he likes to pair jamones with grilled bread and seasonal curtidos, “little pickled goodies that we make at the restaurant.” You can get his recipe for sweet and sour pickled garlic here.
Next, one of Spain’s most expensive exports…
Jamón Mangalica
Jamón mangalica reigns supreme among the Spanish hams, despite the fact that the heritage pigs from which it is sourced aren’t raised in Spain at all but in Hungary. The mangalica pigs are uniquely suited for the cold climate where they live, having developed a thick coat, and—most important to those who want to eat it–thick layers of intramuscular fat.
The mangalica pigs are open-pasture foragers that eat barley, corn, grass, soybeans, sunflowers, and wheat in small, free-range groups. Once they’re fattened and ready for aging, they head to Spain, where master jamoneros begin the long process of curing. It’s this ham that takes the longest amount of time to age to perfection, usually three years. “It’s the slow curing that gives mangalica its flavor,” Guerra explains, and its deep, rich, glossiness is best suited for degustación rather than piling onto a piece of crusty bread.
How to Get the Best Ham
Few butchers in the United States are experts when it comes to Spanish hams, says Guerra, and it’s helpful if you approach the meat counter with a bit of your own knowledge to ensure you’re buying the best quality and getting good cuts. Here are Guerra’s pro tips for buying Spanish jamónes:
• Look for evidence of tirosina. “Many people make the mistake of thinking that the white, crystalline flecks or threads on Spanish ham are undesirable, when the opposite is actually the case,” says Guerra. Tirosina (or tyrosine, in English) is an amino acid, and those white crystals are evidence that the ham has been aged slowly and adequately. You won’t see them in a ham whose aging process has been accelerated.
• Ask the butcher not to trim la corteza, the yellow layer of fat encasing the pierna. Even though it’s not edible, it protects the meat, serving a similar function as a rind on a hard cheese.
• Ask the butcher to slice the ham thin. Thick cuts of Spanish hams will obscure the richness and complexity of their flavors.
Pata Negra’s Saez de Ibarra adds that packaging doesn’t necessarily advertise the differences among the hams, especially between the cebos and bellotas. If in doubt, he says, “ask for longer curation periods, always closer to 18 months, at least.”
Where to Buy Spanish Hams
In New York City, Guerra recommends Despaña, which is the only retailer where the hams are sliced by hand. As for supermarkets, Fairway carries the hams mentioned here. Finally, Guerra himself can supply you with a pierna if you hire his master carving services for a party or private event. His price includes not only his expert slicing skills, but the pierna at cost.
Outside New York, all three hams, including the mangalica, can be ordered online or by phone from D’Artagnan.
Original post: http://thelatinkitchen.com
