Newsletter 18: for fortnight beginning 30th august 2010

Home curing ...

Firstly, curing salts. We put them in the box once before and had some fairly complimentary feedback and, as it is a pork box this time, we thought we would try again. The idea of soaking a joint of pork in brine seems so alien in these days of limited salt intake that it does need a little explanation (cookingforengineers.com and wikipedia.org do it much better than me). The idea is that the joint will stay moist when cooked and, for once, it isn’t bad science. In essence, salt gets in via osmosis, changes the proteins to form a water retentive molecular structure which is too big to get out again. Simple really! The amount of salt sucked in is tiny but it does keep the meat moist and add considerably to the flavour. Recipients will have about a cup of salts which will be enough for a gallon of water. It will dissolve easily by stirring into warm water but wait until it has cooled before adding the pork. Between eight and twelve hours should give the salt and meat proteins time to get it on, but you can get equally good results with pieces of chicken in a fraction of the time.

As holidaymakers in France will know, our continental cousins don’t make proper bacon. However they do a good line in salt pork. They tend to cut it two or three times as thick as bacon and use it in all manner of stews and casseroles. If something along these lines takes your fancy it is easily achievable by rubbing the curing salts at a usage of about 5% (of meat weight) into a piece of loin, belly or spare rib roast and leaving it in plastic container in the fridge for four to seven days, depending on thickness. Wash any excess salt off and Pierre’s your uncle, your pork is now petit salè, or lardons if you fry it, and choucroute, cassoulet and all sorts of fantastic lentil and pulse dishes are a simple step away. You could even smoke it but I will save that for next time.

Whatever my politics, I can justify reading the Guardian and Observer because, for food news, they are head and shoulders above their rivals, so I’m not going to apologise for, yet again, drawing your attention to something I read in the paper last week. There was an article about how we, as a nation, are finally developing a taste for upmarket snorkers. All the multiples are releasing brands of the ‘finest’, ‘taste the difference’, ‘a skin full of ...’ etc sausages. Made from the finest unMRMed, free-range pork, and minced rather than emulsified they may be, but a factory-made banger is a factory-made banger. Virtually all are made using vacuum fillers which, literally, suck the meat into the filling device at the same time as pushing the proceeding one into the casing. I don’t know why but they ‘cream up’ the meat something chronic and although you do get perfect portion control they don’t work that well with natural casings. We use a traditional sausage filler with a knee operated piston which pushes the meat into the casing. I think the results speak for themselves.

Last year, at about this time, we were playing around with the idea of offering a little venison through the meatbox scheme. Well, you voted with your feet, almost a stampede in fact, so it will be back again this year. Venison starts on 19th September and will run for eight weeks only. Once again we will offer a venison taster box which will be slightly discounted so buy now for the rest of the winter. I’m always wary of religious parodies, but someone created three seasons and then had a kip during the fourth. We invented the freezer so we can eat prime meat, if we choose not to hibernate in the winter.

Lastly, a bit of egg on face - or foisted by one’s own petard as my friend Ru, the green undertaker, would say. According to my oft-mentioned wife, if I want something I am like a bull in a china shop - nothing will stop me. Google says that every quality newspaper has said that mustard essence, essential to make the fiery Mostardo di Cremona (mustard fruits) is (a) not substitutable and (b) unavailable in the UK. However, a tree full of rapidly ripening figs and a quick ‘www’ search revealed that our local apothecary sold that very thing. I felt pretty smug and got my skates on, only to find, after a hard night in front of the Aga and frequent visits to the laptop, that what I had just bought was mustard flower essence, a Bach concoction, of considerably less worth, even in the placebo terms that I view most herbal remedies, than proverbial ****. Apparently mustard flower essence will lift the ‘“wintery gloom that suddenly surrounds us”. A slice of venison served with a spoonful of fig compote pickled in real mustard essence seems like a potentially more successful and uplifting therapy to me.

Ben Watson