Bones from a variety of animals can be a key ingredient in stocks, which are essential in all types of cooking.
Food Republic’s column Ask Your Butcher seeks to answer FAQs in the world of butchery. Ethically minded butcher Bryan Mayer founded Philadelphia’s Kensington Quarters and helped develop a renowned butcher-training program at Brooklyn’s Fleisher’s. Today, he consults with farmers, chefs, butchers and anyone else who will listen. In each column, Mayer tackles a pressing issue facing both meat buyers and home cooks. Here, he explores three things that you probably aren’t cooking with now, but you should.
Peer over the counter at your local whole-animal butcher shop and you’re more than likely going to see a whole lot of bones, fat and — depending on the animal — skin. And while our more industrially focused brethren don’t have to take much of this into consideration (being that you can order up just about anything skinless, boneless, and pretty much denuded of any and all fat), we who preach whole-carcass utilization take this as a challenge!
Our detractors would say that the industrial model is nothing if not efficient when it comes to utilizing the whole carcass. And that’s somewhat true, if you exclude certain parts that are routinely discarded due to their lack of economic viability. While I’ve read more than my fair share of blog posts pointing out that we, the so-called whole-animal butchers who claim to use everything but the oink, often fall short of these claims, it does bear mentioning that we are severely limited in what we actually receive from our slaughterhouses.
The limitations of these by-products, both edible and inedible, are not totally based on legality, but rather on a significant revenue stream for slaughterhouses. And rightfully so. Up until very recently, very few people in the U.S. were looking to prepare a traditional Burns Supper, which, among other things, calls for stomach and lung, the latter being a by-product that is illegal in the U.S. But what of all those bones going into that bone broth, or, as I like to call it, stock? It’s as if they magically appeared, to cure all your ailments, from gut issues to hair loss to nonexistent love life.
In fact, the list of uses for animal by-products — again, both inedible and edible — is endless. Here’s a sample, courtesy of the U.S. Department of Agriculture:
I’m hoping now you can see why these things are hard to come by, and more importantly, why they have such value. To put it all into context for you, by-products account for roughly 30 percent of the live weight (weight before slaughter and evisceration) of hogs and roughly 44 percent of the live weight of cattle. To devalue these items would ultimately mean devaluing the work of our farmers. We don’t want to do that.
With the proliferation of whole-animal butcher shops, we are starting to see an increased interest in using more by-products, specifically bones, fat and skin. So here are a few cooking ideas:
Bones
Stocks are about what tastes good to you! A basic beef stock can be exceedingly simple to prepare.
Auguste Escoffier once said, “Indeed, stock is everything in cooking. Without it, nothing can be done.” And since my grandma used it as a cure-all, I’m not one to disagree. Stocks contain minerals in a form that the body can absorb easily — not just trace minerals, but sulfur, magnesium and calcium. Add to that the stuff in cartilage, like chondroitin and glucosamine, and you’re liable to put GNC out of business. And while it’s easy to poke fun of your local dispensary, pouring cups of $9 broth from stainless steel urns, there clearly is some merit to this craze — certainly more so than kale!
Feel free to use any types of bones you’d like: neck, knuckle (the ends of long bones) and marrow all work great. Go ahead and experiment. Step outside the comfort zones of beef and chicken! Try lamb, goat and pork, and add any spices you wish. After all, it’s about what tastes good to you. For my simple beef stock, I add a bit of salt, ginger, clove and turmeric. You can simply simmer bones and water, or go ahead and make a full-on stock by adding your standard mirepoix. Or, in my case, suppengruen, to honor my German side.
Basic Beef Stock
Ingredients Roughly 4 pounds of neck, knuckle, and/or marrow bones
4 quarts water (or enough to cover bones)
3 each celery, carrots and onions, if desired
Directions:
The basic rule here is that it should be easy, or you won’t do it. So if you want to roast your bones, go for it. It’ll result in a darker, richer-tasting stock, but it’s not necessary.
If you want to add things like onion, celery, carrots, vinegar and whatever other spices, go for it. Just add enough water to cover your bones while leaving some room at the top for expansion.
You’ll want to bring to a boil and then simmer for as long as you can; 12 hours is preferable, but if you’ve only got four, then so be it. Some people like to skim the fat off the top; I don’t. But if you’ve got the time, go for it. That’s all there is to it.
Let it cool and refrigerate up to four days or freeze. Season however you’d like.
Skin
Behold the beauty of the chicharrón: pork belly fried in its own fat.
It’s one of largest organs, if not the largest. You could say it’s one of the most important. It keeps the body safe from the extremes of temperatures, sunlight and chemicals. And if you’re a hog or a chicken, it also happens to be delicious. Roast a whole chicken in my house and someone’s picking off the crispy skin. Braise a picnic ham for pernil and that crispy skin is a great counterbalance to the tender meat. Skin alone, especially from pigs, has many uses. Aside from all the inedible examples mentioned above, it’s great to add skin to stocks. All that gelatin that it contains is a great thickener. It can make great noodles, and, of course, there’s the ol’ standby, chicharrónes.
Preparing pig skin for noodles is a bit of a process and removes something very dear to me and hopefully to you: pork fat. What you’re left with is something reminiscent of pasta, but with an obvious porkiness that is an excellent addition to any ramen. You’ll want to denude the skin of any fat and hair, add some salt and allow it to cure for a couple of hours. You can prepare a marinade, which is something that will help break down the skin over a 24-hour period. Once that’s done, you’ll want to cook for a couple more hours, cool for another 12 and you’re ready to add to your ramen. Yeah, that’s a lot of work.
Let’s stick to a chicharrón. I like my chicharrónes the way my mother-in-law does them: not the puffed, airy kind, but something with a bit more substance — some meat and some fat. The seasoning isn’t necessarily the important part here, but the process is, as you’ll want to follow it closely in order to get a crispy, crunchy chicharrón.
You’re still going to have to put in some time with this one, but you can make a few batches to sit up on your shelf (it’s right next to the granola on mine). I like to use pork belly for this as it has the best ratios of skin, meat and fat. I’ll use a little baking soda with my salt, as I cure the belly overnight. This will help with dehydration, which is important in order to achieve that crunchy skin. After your 24-hour cure, you’re ready to cook. Grab a large skillet and add some water for the wet-rendering method. This is much more forgiving than the dry method and the water will also help to braise the bit of meat and slowly render the fat over 3 to 4 hours. You’ll know when all the water has evaporated and you’re left with just rendered fat when you cease to see any bubbles rising. You’re all set to crank the heat to high and fry away, which should take about three to five minutes. Transfer to a paper towel–lined plate to cool a bit and then add some vinegar, preferably some Sukang Maanghang.
Chicharrón Baboy (Filipino Pork Rind Cracklings)
Ingredients 1 pound pork belly
2 teaspoons baking soda
1 teaspoon salt
Water to cover
Vinegar
Directions:
Rub the surface of the skin with the baking soda and salt, making sure to distribute evenly. Place on a dish and into your fridge for 12 hours.
Rinse off the belly, pat dry and cut into one-inch cubes. Place into your deep-sided skillet and cover with water.
Using low heat, slowly render and braise for 3-4 hours. Remember to turn the pieces of belly every so often to evenly cook. Once the bubbles stop rising, your water has evaporated and you’ve got rendered fat.
Turn the heat up to high and watch as they fry in their own rendered fat. This should take no more than five minutes. Transfer to a paper towel, add some vinegar and perhaps some salt and pepper to taste!
Fat
There are many culinary uses for rendered fat (pork lard is pictured here).
Since we briefly mentioned fat above, why don’t we really talk about it for a moment here? Fat has been vilified for far too long. Whether it was Sinclair’s fictional account of the horrors of rendering plants, Procter and Gamble’s marketing campaign for Crisco and the newly invented process of hydrogenation in the early 20th century, or scientists in the 1950s all but singling out animal fat as the cause of heart disease, it seemed we had good reason to avoid animal fats at any cost.
Well, that cost is our health. Fats from animals — consumed in moderation, of course — provide a concentrated source of energy in our diet, a source that cannot be supplemented. They are the building blocks for cell membranes and hormones. As if that weren’t enough, they are also the carriers for the extremely important, fat-soluble vitamins A, D, E and K. Fat doesn’t only taste good — it is now recognized as the sixth taste — but it does good for you! And not just animal fats. We’re talking oils: extra-virgin olive oil, unrefined flaxseed oil, and coconut oil, for example. Keep on using all that butter, which is hopefully from grass-fed, fully pastured cows!
Good oils and butter are fairly easy to come by these days. As for rendered animal fat, that’s a bit tricky. Your whole-animal butcher shop should have some already rendered for you. If not, you can always purchase a hunk of fat from them and render it yourself. Pork fat is the best, as it’s the most neutral of fats, but feel free to use beef, chicken or whatever you’d like. You’ll need a skillet, some water and a little bit of time — that’s all. You’ll want to cube the fat or, if possible, coarsely grind it to speed the process up a bit. I like the wet-rendering method, as you’re less likely to scorch the fat. While scorching won’t necessarily ruin the fat, it will definitely bring out the flavors a bit more in your lard, which is something that you may not want in a flaky pie crust. A low flame, and once the bubbles stop rising, you’ve got pure fat ready to fry potatoes or make some chicharrónes.
Rendered Fat
This can be as easy as removing some of the visceral fat from the chicken you’re about to roast or going to your local whole-animal butcher to order some pasture-raised animal fats.
Directions:
Choose an animal fat — beef, pork or chicken. Dice, or coarsely ground, for beef and pork to speed the process.
Set your flame to low in a deep-sided skillet or pot, and allow the fat to slowly melt. Again, your fat is fully rendered and all the water has evaporated when bubbles stop rising.
All that’s left to do is strain out any impurities and you’ve got plenty of healthy animal fats to last for at least a few days. There are lots of opinions on how to store rendered fat. I’ll let you pick the method that you feel safest with. For me it’s about three months in the fridge and up to a year in my freezer.
Crispy pork trotters with Mission figs at Flour + Water, ca. July 2009.
Some of the most welcome offal to come out of the trend of head-to-tail cuisine are pork trotters, a.k.a. pigs’ feet, and we’re now seeing more of this humble pork product pop up on respectable menus in New York, L.A. and San Francisco. More often than not, the meat is braised, deboned, and formed into a crab cake-like portion, browned on both sides, and served with any number of sauces likely to win over even picky eaters — as they were last spring on the menu at the critically adored Frances, with a sauce gribiche. Semi-rustic preparations of trotters have made appearances in New York over the last few years at places like Craft and Baba, and last winter Northern Spy did a trotter cake with mustard greens — a play on collard greens and ham hocks — that caught the attention of the Times and became the lede for their review. (“Slice into it and the pork spills out, outrageously tender. There is nothing to tip off the squeamish that we’ve entered hoof territory.”)
But how did pigs’ feet — which many of us probably associate with the pale, puckered, and all-too-anatomically-intact versions we saw pickled in jars in the ethnic foods section of grocery stores as kids — become the stuff of haute cuisine?
San Francisco food writer Marcia Gagliardi (The Tablehopper) points back to the first wave of chefs embracing offal here in the last few years. “It started with the whole-animal guys — like Nate Appleman when he was at A16, Chris Cosentino at Incanto, and Mark Denham when he was at Laiola,” she says. “What you’re seeing now in S.F. is a second wave of restaurants doing rustic European dishes (Flour + Water, Frances, Contigo), and diners perhaps being a bit more adventurous.”
Below, a rough timeline of the trotters’ recent rise to prominence:
1999: Thomas Keller features Pig’s Feet with French Green Lentils in The French Laundry Cookbook.
2001: Tom Colicchio opens Craft in New York, later begins featuring pork trotters among his mix-and-match menu offerings.
2002: Chris Cosentino comes on board as executive chef at Incanto, bringing with him a passion for head-to-tail cooking, and using trotters in his pork ragu. Later launches the website OffalGood.com.
2007-2008: Trotters make their appearance on Nate Appleman’s menus at A16 and SPQR in San Francisco. He later wins the James Beard Award for Rising Star Chef, as well as a Food & Wine Best New Chef nod. They continue to make appearances on both menus under new chefs Liza Shaw and Matt Accarrino, in ragus, terrinas, and Shaw’s pork trotter zampone, which are deboned foreshanks stuffed with either sausage or a meatball mixture, then braised and finished off in a wood-fired oven.
June 2008:Animal opens in Los Angeles, and chefs Vinny Dotolo and Jon Shook garner loads of attention for their bold use of offal, and they frequently work trotters into their menu.
June 2009:Bouchon opens in Beverly Hills, features trotters.
July 2009: Flour + Water opens to loads of press early in the year, and that summer begins featuring trotters breaded and fried and served with Mission figs and mustard greens.
February 2010: The Times writes up Northern Spy and their trotter dish.
Spring 2010: Trotters appear on the menu at Frances, braised and seared in cakes, served with a sauce gribiche and pickled vegetables. Frances is nominated for a Beard Award for Best New Restaurant.
April 2010: Saveur spotlights the very rustic crispy pata (fried pigs’ feet) at Patio Filipino in San Bruno.
June 2010:Prospect opens in San Francisco, from the team behind the uber-successful Boulevard, featuring a dish that combines pork trotters with lobster. Critic Jonathan Kauffman later calls out the dish as a point where chef Ravi Kapur “hits a sweet spot” of edginess.
October 2010:Lowcountry opens in New York, offering “trotter tots” as a starter; Coi chef Daniel Patterson opens a casual offshoot in Oakland called Plum, featuring a pork trotter burger.
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.
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.
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.
Chefs and restaurants are becoming proponents of sourcing humanely raised animals, because it’s better for the planet and the palate.
Beef Bulgogi Meat & Livestock Australia
In his formative years as a chef, Conor Hanlon didn’t think too much beyond the kitchen.
“I was much more concerned about keeping my head above water than about where we were sourcing ingredients,” Chef Hanlon acknowledges.
But now, as executive chef of the W Hotels in Miami and chef de cuisine at its upscale eatery, The Dutch, sourcing is no longer an ignored topic.
Chef Hanlon’s broadened enlightenment began seven years ago when he read about the Mangalitsa pig, a little-known Hungarian breed characterized by its fatty, marbled meat. Fascinated, he spent four months trying to find the pig, often called the Kobe beef of pork. When he finally secured the animal and cooked it, the experience proved transformative.
“That’s when the light bulb went off in me,” Chef Hanlon says. “Whenever something is being raised, there’s someone behind it—and the way [that person] is raising the animal translates into its taste.”
In subsequent years, Chef Hanlon became increasingly more engrossed in the issue of animal welfare and how animal care translates to both the plate and the dining experience.
“Because I love what I do, I want humanely raised products,” he says.
A multi-layered issue touching hot-button topics such as animal rights, environmental stewardship, and social justice, animal welfare has become a frequently discussed subject in the restaurant industry, one propelled by consumers and chefs alike.
“This is everybody’s issue,” says Jason Gronlund, vice president of culinary for Smokey Bones, a 65-unit casual-dining chain based in Orlando. “Just because we have to feed the population doesn’t mean we can take shortcuts in the care of animals.”
Though animal welfare is a subjective term with shifting meaning among chefs, farmers, producers, and consumers, Meat & Livestock Australia business development manager Catherine Golding says the principal elements of animal welfare remain evenhanded and clear: Animals should be treated with respect and care according to best practices in animal husbandry throughout their lives.
That extends “from the paddocks they were born and raised in to when they are transported for sale and at the processing plant,” says Golding, whose organization works with industry and government in Australia to promote fact-based best practices in animal husbandry.
All Creatures Great and Small
From cattle and dairy to pork and poultry—and even farm-raised fish—animal welfare continues to weave into the public’s consciousness. Cage-free and pasture-raised are no longer fringe terms, but pepper grocery store aisles and restaurant menus.
Dan Gibson has witnessed the transformation firsthand.
After experiencing 9/11 in New York City, Gibson traded fast-paced Manhattan for life on the farm. In 2002, he built a grass-fed herd at Grazin’ Angus Acres in Ghent, New York, and began selling in New York’s green market system in 2006. Even among the most conscientious chefs, Gibson says many struggled to understand the advantages of his meats compared with those arriving from a concentrated animal feeding operation (CAFO). Over time, he says, that has changed.
“There’s a significant and growing amount of the population that cares about this issue and is voting with their pocketbook every day,” Gibson says.
The burgeoning movement inspired Gibson to open Grazin’, a diner serving only Animal Welfare Approved (AWA) products, in 2011. AWA is a labeling program for meat and dairy goods that ensures animals were raised to the highest welfare and environmental standards.
Located in Hudson, New York, Grazin’ is a hit among the locals and frequently serves guests who have made the 120-mile trip from New York City specifically to visit his eatery. In 2014, sales jumped nearly 50 percent over the previous year. Those results and swelling interest have motivated Gibson to locate a Grazin’ outpost in New York City later this year.
“And we’re not going to stop there,” Gibson says.
Today’s consumers, many contend, are more sophisticated and interested in food than ever, accessing millions of resources to explore all aspects of food, from nutrition’s impact on the body to ethical sourcing.
“Food is in the consumers’ sight all the time now … and as demands change, you have to abide by that,” Smokey Bones’ Gronlund says, specifically noting the rise of organic goods and paleolithic diets.
According to AWA, raising animals intensively, either indoors or confined on dirt feedlots, harms animal welfare and, ultimately, human health and the greater environment. The organization, which is based in Arlington, Virginia, charges that headline-grabbing news about the rise of antibiotic-resistant bacteria, environmental pollution, and animal-welfare abuses spotlight the broken nature of the nation’s food system. Furthermore, AWA contends that the nutritional quality of meat, milk, and eggs is intrinsically linked to the welfare of animals and the impact of farming systems on the environment.
“Shouldn’t we all want to make sure that animals’ needs and wants are met?” AWA program director Andrew Gunther asks.
For many, the answer is a definitive yes, which has heightened calls for the elimination of cages and crates, and driven awareness around the ethical sourcing of animal products as well as restaurants’ roles and responsibilities.
Gunther calls animal welfare a “market pressure that’s coming,” and one that is only going to grow given Gen Y’s interest in social and environmental issues.
“All chefs should have this on their horizon because it’s vital to their business, especially given how much the market has shifted towards people wanting to know the background of their food,” Gunther says. “It’s better to get ahead of the game and secure your place in the market rather than sit on your hands.”
A more conscientious and questioning populace, meanwhile, has urged restaurants to define their brands by deeply vetting sources and pushing humanely raised goods as a marketplace differentiator. As Smokey Bones’ Gronlund notes, no restaurant wants negative press.
Increasingly, serving the greater good extends from the flavor on the plate to all the practices and processes involved in food preparation.
“Though it costs more to serve free-range chicken, it’s a product you can stand behind and be proud to serve,” Chef Hanlon says.
Looming beyond the ethical concerns and marketplace movement, however, there’s the critically important issue of taste. Beef, lamb, and other animal products raised according to best practices in animal husbandry simply taste better, many argue.
“It is a more tender, juicy, and, overall, just better-tasting meat,” Golding contends.
By returning to the original practices of animal husbandry, a counter to the mass commercialization of food, Chef Hanlon believes animals enjoy richer diets that result in more robust flavor profiles on the plate. He says the pasture-raised cattle of Australia avoid the sweet, starchy taste of their corn-fed domestic counterparts.
“When you put cattle in a lot and feed them the same product day after day, there’s no diversity,” Chef Hanlon says. “When the cattle are in a pasture, however, eating different grasses and grains each day, those flavors come through.”
Put more succinctly, he says: “Why take an animal that never ate corn and make it eat corn? It doesn’t make sense.”
Celebrity chef Elizabeth Falkner, a James Beard Award nominee, believes a comparative taste test would deliver clear results.
“If more people tasted an animal that had been cared for and one that had been neglected, they would come to the same conclusion,” Chef Falkner says. “You can just taste the difference.
“And if nothing else,” she continues, “at least there has to be better karma in sourcing products from animals that have been treated the right way.”
Clarifying the Cause
While many can be sold on the rationale of sourcing goods from humanely raised animals, actually bringing those goods into the restaurant is a process that presents its own hurdles.
Rising consumer interest in food sourcing has created a litany of packaging terms that spark more confusion than clarity. According to AWA’s guide, Food Labels Exposed, terms such as fresh and all-natural have little meaning. Fresh, for instance, simply means that the internal temperature of the meat never dropped below 26 degrees Fahrenheit.
Similarly, all-natural has nothing to do with animal welfare, but rather signals that the meat contains no artificial ingredients or added colors, and that it was minimally processed. Even the term humane is employed loosely on packaging.
“Humane claims are now widely used to convince consumers the food manufacturer is making a special effort in the way animals are raised. However, there is no legal definition or minimum welfare standard for the term humane,” AWA reports.
This uncontrolled Wild West image of labeling has given defined third-party credentials—such as AWA or Certified Humane, two organizations that both perform birth-to-slaughter audits—added credence in the marketplace.
“These third-party agencies give credibility and also brand protection,” Gunther says, adding that leaning on a third-party helps a restaurant counter arguments between animal rights groups and producers.
Cattle and sheep products sourced from Australia, Golding adds, are also raised according to strict animal-welfare regulations. “The standards are legislated by law and enforced by state governments across the country,” she says.
At Smokey Bones, Gronlund says his team leans on its Australian-based vendor, JBS, to ensure the animal goods that Smokey Bones’ procures are humanely harvested and meet the restaurant chain’s defined specifications.
“We’re 100 percent clear in our expectations,” Gronlund says.
Then, of course, there’s the issue of price, a supremely important matter in an industry known for tight margins and intense competition. According to the AWA’s Gunther, the markup on some humanely raised products is significant. AWA-approved chicken, for instance, can be twice as expensive as other options in the marketplace.
Gibson, who is also a supplier to restaurants, says it takes much longer to finish cattle on grass, about three times as long as the 12–15 months needed at a CAFO. That investment of time is reflected in his prices. Ground meat goes for $10 per pound while filet runs $40 per pound. To some operators, absorbing higher prices is simply the cost of doing business in an evolving, more curious, and conscientious society.
At Grazin’, his own restaurant, Gibson simply charges what he needs to and explains the deeper value inherent in his products.
“There are lots of people who don’t think about livestock, but they’re not my customer,” Gibson says. “If you’re mindful about how an animal is raised, taken, and processed—and that’s important to you—then you’re going to seek me out. It’s that simple.”
Others, however, understand the need to be more flexible, nimble, and strategic in their sourcing. Competing in the casual-dining category, Gronlund says Smokey Bones must balance sourcing and pricing to stay cost-efficient and competitive. He says that process begins by looking at the restaurants’ target consumers and determining their hot-button issues.
“You have to know what matters to your customers,” he says.
To test that, Falkner says restaurants might ease into sourcing humanely raised products, perhaps investing in items it can first spotlight as specials before committing to regular menu items. “Then, track the success of those products and see if there’s a correlation,” Falkner says.
To further combat the higher costs, Gunther says some chefs decrease the portion size and take care to explain their sourcing efforts, which positions the restaurant to earn guest loyalty.
Falkner suggests restaurant leaders educate their service staff on where products come from and, in the case of animals, how they are treated. Front-of-the house staff can then relay this information to diners to build a more compelling story.
In addition, Falkner says restaurants might buy cuts that are not prime and use such products strategically, such as using the humanely raised product to complement the main entrée.
It’s a theory Chef Hanlon subscribes to at The Dutch. In November, for instance, Chef Hanlon topped a dish of roasted baby root vegetables with lamb shoulder braised with red wine. He then pulled apart the lamb and served it as a rich sauce over the vegetables.
“It’s about finding a happy medium,” Chef Hanlon says.
As informed by the past as he is in tune with the future, Chef Hanlon acknowledges he needs to selectively pick his battles concerning animal welfare and sourcing. His team at the W Hotels uses up to 1,000 eggs each day, an immense volume that makes obtaining free-range eggs cost-prohibitive. Still, he remains mindful and committed to other ways he can source humanely raised goods.
“No one opens a restaurant to close the restaurant,” Chef Hanlon says. “I have to pick the things that are important to me and run with that in a smart way. It’s about being realistic and pragmatic. We can’t do it all, but we can do some things that make a difference.”
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