Pork slow-braised in milk is a mainstay of several cultures, believe it or not. I’m not sure who the first ancient was who decided tossing a big hunka meat in a pot o’ simmering milk was a good idea, but in retrospect, it was genius. It’s a dish I first became aware of in Italy, hence my title, but I’ve heard that Frenchies, Americanos, and even sexy Spaniards have taken successful stabs at it.

As I am wont to do when I get these hare-brained whims, I decided to sort of go global with my version. For example I reduced the goat milk that remained after the braise down into a cajeta-like caramel sauce, giving it a Mexican flair. Since I used Mangalitsa pig, which is an amazing Hungarian swine bred for fatty succulence (and brought to the US by Heath Putnam of Wooly Pigs), I decided to carry a Hungarian theme through the other aspects of the dish. I poached the apricots in sweet Hungarian Tokaji, and I made a spaetzle accompaniment which is dubious in origin itself. It’s technically called “nokedli” in Hungarian, and since Budapest is one of the greatest cities on the planet, in my head I believe it was them who birthed nokedli/spaetzle- one of the greatest pastas on the planet.

Despite all that globe-trotting, the affair remains rooted in locality. The Mangalitsa pork shoulder I used comes from local purveyor to the stars (The French Laundry and Herbfarm to name a few) Heath Putnam, who sells his Mangalitsa products in Seattle at the University District Farmer’s Market as well as via Bill the Butcher. The apricots are sun-ripened from a friend’s tree. The goat milk comes from Grace Harbor Farms in Custer, WA. Even though this meal takes inspiration from the great culinary traditions of the world, it is one that is easy to recreate using local products in an effort to promote sustainability.

The other problem I have with maiale al latte is that it is typically not the most aesthetically-pleasing of dishes. A giant blob of pork set a simmer in milk for hours on end does not result in a composed plate but rather a gloppy mess. I decided to take it a step further by shredding the resulting softened meat, then compressing it into discs that I ultimately coated in panko and pan-fried. I reduced the remaining pork-infused goat milk along with a little sugar down to a cajeta state that played nicely on the sweet/savory continuum and served as a pretty anchor to the various aspects of the plate. This was my first trial with all-semolina spaetzle; usually I use all-purpose flour instead. Semolina gave it a welcome density and it totally lacked any mushiness that is sometimes a problem with regular spaetzle. It also helps when spaetzle-making to plunge just-done spaetzle into an ice bath to stop cooking, then drain and dry them on towels. The final step with spaetzle is to fry them up for extra crispness, which I did in some of the pork fat I separated off the milk before I reduced it to cajeta.

I should note that I did my “braise” in the sous vide machine- opting for 180° F for 18 hours. Because I don’t have a cryovac, I froze the milk before I put it in the bag with the Mangalitsa shoulder so that I could vacuum seal it without the liquid getting into the sealer element. This is a great way to seal braising liquids, broths, et cetera as it ensures you get an airtight bag. I thought apricots would complement both the cajeta and the pork, so I poached them in Tokaji along with some chamomile from the garden and a vanilla pod. My interpretation of maiale al latte may not be traditional, but it kind of kicked ass. The quality of each individual ingredient added to the greatness of the whole, and despite some technical steps, this really is a showcase of simple combinations working together beautifully to bring out the best in every element.

Wonton wrappers, wonton wrappers, what shall I do with the rest of you?  I am quite certain I’m not alone in this predicament; those packets the size of my pinkie seem to yield a bottomless supply of paper-thin panes and a girl can only eat so many wonton crisps with her Ahi Poke.  As is regularly the case with my culinary creations, I decided to adopt a fused approach.  Wontons are from China, so let’s go with Italian pastry cream infused with Cardamom- primarily an Indian spice (I realize this is debatable).  Throw in some chocolate from Belize and the Dominican Republic packaged by a UK company and you’ve got your next United Nations Convention dessert settled.  Top it all off with Mexican dulce de leche made from goat’s milk called cajeta and garnish the plate with kiwi berries grown in Oregon (of all the places to miniaturize a kiwi!) and you’ve got a dessert that can take you around the world for a lot less than the cost of the plane ticket. 

Read more

I woke up with an odd hankering for goat milk the other day and I couldn’t figure out why.  I think it was a remnant of a dream I couldn’t quite hang onto in my morning haze, because truth be told, I’m not actually a huge fan of goat milk.  I love goat cheese till there’s no tomorrow, but I’ve never been a straight chugger of the milk itself.  This is in direct contrast to my 14 month old; I’m pretty sure when everyone else is doing keg stands and beer bongs in college he will be pouring ice cold goat milk through a funnel and down his gullet to prove his mettle (at least that’s my hope, given his propensity for it now).  In any case, I couldn’t shake the urge to tickle my tonsils with something of the goat variety, so I started thinking long and hard about how I could dress it up so it wouldn’t be quite so, well, goaty.  Yes, I know the whole lipstick on a Palin adage, and it’s not that I wanted to mask the nature of the goat- just enhance it somehow. 

That’s when it hit me- CAJETA! For those of you unlucky enough to be unfamiliar with this ooh la la substance- it’s basically dulce de leche made with goat’s milk instead of cow milk.  The goat taste imparts more complexity on the flavor, so rather than being sweet and cloying (as I sometimes find dulce de leche), it adds a layer of depth to the caramel, kind of like the difference between a tawny and a ruby port.  I absolutely love to make cajeta because of the mouthwatering odor it bestows on the entire kitchen as its reducing- make it once and you won’t soon return to your dulce de leche ways. 

Read more