The Verdict

Last week I wrote about my adventure to the spice market and the resulting “Sichuan k-hole” of obsessively toasting, blending, grinding, and then rubbing down of every pork product in the house.  Last night I tossed the last tasty end bits of braised pork belly into a tomato sauce destined for madras curry and, you guessed it.  Rabbit.  Rabbit is tender and moist, when cooked properly.  But it does not have that fatty richness possessed by our friend the pig.  I was hoping to disguise my desire to use up leftovers for an act of genius master cookery.  It worked.

To completely digress...how many times have you tasted an interesting combination of ingredients at a restaurant and thought, “wow, who would have ever thought to grind up pappadum, coat a chicken breast, and then fry it?!”  (Not that particular example, of course, but something like it).  Chances are, a disproportionate amount of geniusly invented dishes you have experienced in a restaurant were an act of sheer desperation, not enlightened inspiration.  The night those pan-fried tapioca cakes went on the menu, I guarantee you someone’s head rolled for not re-ordering polenta meal when they ran out. 

Adding the pork belly created a rich yet balanced sauce, with the acidity of tomatoes mellowed by porky goodness.  In culinary school, they taught us to balance an acidic tomato sauce with sugar, a gastrique, a dot of butter, cream or milk in the case of a bolognese, or even a roux (those crazy French).  I have found that a bit of richness, whether it be ground lamb, pancetta, or finely chopped beef,  provides the perfect balance to a tomato sauce. 

Last night’s dinner is not the intended topic here.  Let’s revisit the pork belly.  Last week I wanted to compare pork belly that had been marinated with a spice rub to belly that had rested in brine. 

This is very detailed, just in case you love knowing why things happen, not simply that they do.

A marinade is used to flavor, moisturize, and tenderize meat.  This marinade consisted of Chinese five spice, a bit of kaffir lime juice, grated ginger, and a 50/50 sugar and salt mixture.  (David Chang of the Momofuku empire uses just this sugar and salt blend on his pork belly, allowing it to rest anywhere from a few hours to a day before roasting it).  The acid in the lime juice breaks down the muscle filaments, allowing for absorption of flavor and a more tender cooked result.  The salt, without water, actually begins to dehydrate the meat while infusing it with aromatics.  A typical marinade or rub that will be allowed to rest for a while should not include salt, as it will dehydrate the meat.  Using Chang’s method was a first for me, as I was curious how the fatty pork belly would hold up. 

Brine, on the other hand, is that thing we talk about around the Thanksgiving table.  If the turkey is moist, a guest may exclaim, “wow, this is so moist, did you use a brine?” while the other impressed guests turn their attention to the host, hoping for a clue as to what a brine actually is and what it does.  It is about one tenth as interesting as a deep-fried turkey and a million times safer (but don’t drink the brine).  This pork brine included half a gallon of water, half a cup each of salt and sugar, along with ginger, kaffir lime, and Chinese five spice.  I brought all of the ingredients up to a simmer for five minutes, then cooled it down and poured it over the pork. 

Harold McGee, the authority on the chemistry of food, explains the two purpose benefit of using a brine in his book On Food And Cooking.  The first is that the salt begins to dissolve and disrupt the structure of muscle filaments, creating a more tender result when cooked.  The second benefit is the transfer and absorption of salt and the brine itself into the meat.  A pound of pork belly can increase it’s weight by about ten percent by absorbing the brine, which counterbalances the yield loss of nearly twenty percent when it is cooked (that twenty percent doesn’t include rendering fat loss, which can be collected for delicious use later*).  The downside to a brine is the saltiness, but it is the salt, ranging from 2-4 tablespoons per quart of water, that is required for the aforementioned processes to work. 

The sugar used in both methods exists primarily to cut the harshness of the salt.

I decided to braise both specimens, rather than roast them as in the initial plan.  The scored fat caps were seared until golden brown and crispy, then the bellies were seared all around before being immersed in chicken stock and (everyone will tell you not to do this) a very small amount of brining liquid.  The key is to avoid making the braising liquid too salty, so if you use part of the brine, add it slowly and sparingly.  The liquid stood about halfway up the pork.  Some aromatics were added, and the bellies were placed in the oven at 250 degrees for almost three hours.  I turned them over several times while cooking, making sure they were fat side up for the final hour.

That night we had half inch steaks of pork belly seared and then glazed with soy, mirin, rice vinegar, brown sugar, ginger, and garlic.  I finished the glaze with some of the brining liquid, making sure not to reduce it too much.  The sauce was a bit sticky, perfect for serving over rice with a saute of shredded brussels sprouts.  The following day we made steamed pork buns with fresh pickled carrots and red onion, cilantro, and hoisin from a jar.

So which one did we prefer and why?  They were each delicious in some similar and some different ways, but the brined pork belly wins.  It was the most flavorful and moist overall, though I found myself picking out some of the larger layers of fat.  The marinated pork belly did have some delightful attributes.  The fat was more edible; it was slightly dried out and hard, giving more resistance to the bite, making it delicious.

*To avoid changing the subject too many times during the entry, I am making a little list of things you can do with rendered pork fat here.  Use it instead of oil or butter when searing meat, especially scallops.  Saute veggies in it, such as cabbage or brussels sprouts.  Or utilize it in a number of pastry recipes calling for lard, such as steamed buns or empanada dough.  The fat used here is seasoned, so it limits the uses for pastries, but pork fat can help make such tender breads.