The new calendar

It's amazing to me how much stock people put into the idea of a new year.  Without getting too much into the philosophy of time - after all, time is just a construct of man to prevent everything from happening at once - I can safely say that if there's snow on the ground at 11:59 on New Year's Eve that there will still be snow on the ground when the ball drops at midnight.  Nothing is dramatically altered when we put up a new calendar: the amount of change from December 31st to January 1st is roughly equivalent to the amount of change that occurs from Flag Day Eve to Flag Day.

But yet, new year traditions abound.  Oh fuck it, let's call them what they are: superstitions.  Some say that you should throw the doors of your home open wide at midnight to allow the old year to escape, as if it were some kind of squirrel or raccoon that needed to be ushered out of your house.  Seems like actual squirrels or raccoons would be more likely to come into your house in this circumstance, which would be in direct violation of the "first-footer" superstition that demands the first visitor of a house in the new year be a healthy, prosperous man of dark complexion.  Then there's the notion that nothing should leave the house on New Year's Day - not even garbage - as it is a harbinger of net loss in the new year.  I feel bad for anybody who throws a party, especially one where people follow the age-old practice of vomiting out the demons of the past year.*

Of course, these superstitions also tend to involve food.  I remember growing up in a house that always had some variety of pork and sauerkraut on January 1st.  What I didn't know as a child (and I'm not sure if the family knew either) is that this came about because the pig roots forward when it forages.  Cows stand still when they graze and chickens scratch backward into the dirt when they peck for food.  So, symbolically, eating pork is a testament to progress.  A little strange that we don't emulate other pig behaviors on New Year's Day, though I suppose if you're one of the aforementioned garbage retainers you could make the argument that you're wallowing in your own filth for the sake of future prosperity.

Interestingly, there's no hidden meaning behind the sauerkraut: it was simply a readily available winter vegetable that was complimentary to the traditional pork.  Though I'm not superstitious, I'm happy to learn that I wasn't ushering in bad tidings by turning my nose up to this rotting cabbage for the past thirty-some years.

This year, I think I'm going to make a bacon-wrapped pork loin roast (because if pigs really do bring good fortune, why not double up?), some Hoppin' John - traditional Southern New Year's food with black-eyed peas, rice, chopped vegetables and smoked pork (I'm using jowl bacon, but a hock will do just fine) - and Dijon slaw with fresh cabbage and carrot, prepared thusly:
1/2 lb. grated carrots
1/2 lb. shredded cabbage
1-1/2 tbsp. Dijon mustard
1 tbsp. extra virgin olive oil
1/2 tbsp. red wine vinegar
1-1/2 tbsp. scallions
1 tbsp. chopped parsley
1/2 tsp. kosher salt
1/2 tsp. dried rosemary
1/2 tsp. sugar

Combine carrots, scallions and parsley.  Thoroughly mix mustard, olive oil, vinegar, salt, rosemary and sugar, then combine with carrot mixture.  Chill overnight, then combine equal parts carrot mixture and cabbage before serving.

Happy New Year everybody!

*OK, I made that vomit thing up, but here's a big list of actual new year superstitions to help you ring in 2013 in a manner befitting a society without advanced technology.

Stuff your stocking (and your pork roast)

Since it took me almost a month to do an ex post facto documentation of Thanksgiving, let me see if I can't get ahead of Christmas like a responsible food blogger should do.

My parents got divorced a long time ago - pushing 30 years - so for as long as I can remember I've had two Christmas celebrations, one with Mom's family and one with Dad's.  Each holiday gathering has its own traditions, including the food.  Uncle Mike (my dad's brother) always brings these little roll-up appetizers - pickles and cream cheese wrapped in dried beef - that I just can't get enough of.  Grandma Rose (my mom's mom) brings her caponata, an Italian cross between ratatouille and salsa that's heavy on eggplant and olives and suspended in a sweet and sour tomato sauce.  Both sides have a traditional Christmas ham: mom's is a spiral sliced Honeybaked, dad's is hand carved and served with simple sandwich fixins.  There's usually a complementary poultry on dad's side; most years it's pulled chicken though there's occasionally an upgrade to roast goose or duck.  On mom's side the secondary meat is a bacon-wrapped pork loin stuffed with bread dressing that her butcher calls a "Colorado roast."  It's always one of my holiday favorites (because, no surprise, I love pork) but I've always found it to be slightly lacking.  This year, I aim to fix that.

For one thing, I have no idea why they call this a "Colorado roast."  A quick Google search reveals that they are the only butcher shop in the world that uses this terminology (they're not located in Colorado, by the way).  So if regional reference is out, then what about culinary usage?  "Colorado" is a Spanish word meaning "red" as used in the dish Chile Colorado, a red chile sauce used to marinate and smother your choice of carne.  But there's no red chile sauce in the Colorado roast, so again, I'm stumped.

Secondly (and most importantly) the roast comes pre-made and ready to cook from the butcher, which is great if you've never butterflied a pork loin before, but it requires some kitchen precision to make sure the pork is tender and that everything is safe to eat.  Whole pork needs only to be cooked to 145 degrees to be considered safe, but when you add bacon which must be cooked to 155 (not a problem since it's on the outside) and the stuffing which must be cooked to 165, the tendency is for the pork loin to dry out as the temperature rises, which isn't very appetizing.

If you're a regular reader of this blog, you've probably learned by now that brine is the secret weapon for retaining moisture in lean meat.  So here's how Justin's Colorado Roast is going down: first, I'm going to brine our pork loin in a mixture of salt, sugar, chile de arbol and cumin, then I'm going to butterfly it and marinate it overnight in chile colorado sauce, then I'm going to mix up some cornbread stuffing with more chile colorado sauce and roll that into the loin before I wrap it all in bacon and roast it.  A tender, delicious and appropriately named roast that is fit for a holiday banquet.

Now, since I don't have a time machine to show you how the roast turned out 3 days from now, you're going to have to use your imagination as I show you some pictures of a similar roast I made a couple months ago.  Or, you can just make this roast for your own holiday celebration.  It's pretty good too.

First, brine your roast.  BRINE YOUR ROAST.  Lean meats almost demand to be brined, especially if they have to be cooked to a higher than normal internal temperature.  Let it sit in the brine for 24-48 hours.  It'll be worth it, trust me.

After removing the roast from the brine and rinsing it off, you're going to need to butterfly your roast.  This can be pretty tricky, but as long as you've got a sharp knife you should be all set.  What you're doing is called a "roll cut" as you're basically using your knife to unroll the pork loin.  Hold the knife parallel to the cutting board somewhere between a half-inch to an inch above it.  The thinner you cut the roast, the more surface area you have for incorporating stuffing later.

Now that you've got the loin all splayed out, you've got the option to pound it out with a meat mallet to get it to the thickness that you want.  I really wouldn't recommend going any thinner than a half inch, since you still want it to resemble a roast and not just a rolled up meat paper.  However, if you've got some thick spots in your butterflied loin, feel free to whack away until you've got a uniform thickness.

If you're going to further marinate the roast, do it now.  The extra surface area will absorb more flavor than if you marinated it whole.

Next you want to cover the entire surface of the roast with your stuffing.  Like I said, for Christmas I'm planning on using a cornbread stuffing, but for this roast I used Monterey Jack cheese and green chiles.  Once you've got a liberal application of stuffing mixture, roll the roast back up until it looks like its original shape.  It's going to have a seam in it, so you're going to have to tie the roast up with twine.  If you're wrapping it in bacon, the twine goes on the outside (duh).

For the record, I rubbed this roast with Bolner's fajita seasoning and placed it on a bed of onions, bell peppers and whole garlic cloves (my plan was to make pork fajitas out of the roast and the pan vegetables). It's ready to go in the oven: blast it at 450 for 15 minutes, then lower the heat to 325 for about 30 minutes per pound.  The meat needs to get to 145 degrees but the stuffing needs to be 165.  A cheese based stuffing like the one above should have no trouble getting to that higher temperature if the meat around it is adequately hot.  A more dense stuffing (like the cornbread) will be a little trickier.  If you can take separate readings, do it.  If not, you can cook the whole thing until the meat reaches 160.  Your brine will help the meat retain moisture, so don't worry about blowing past 145 degrees.  Tent it in foil for 25-30 minutes: it will carry over up to safe temperature and the juices will settle throughout the roast so you don't get a gushing mess when you carve it.

Note in the photo above that I still lost some juice when I carved this.  Regardless, this pork was almost perfect: beautifully colored (pink pork, as long as it's cooked to proper temperature, is safe to eat), fork tender and robustly flavored.  I can't wait to plop this down next to the Christmas ham this year.  A roast worthy of any foodie holiday.

The Bard of Back

First thing's first: let's clear up a misconception.  Pork loin roast and pork tenderloin are not the same cut.  Pork tenderloin is the psoas major muscle, the same muscle that yields the filet mignon from a cow.  Like that steak, the pork tenderloin trades fatty flavor for lean, tender meat.  That's why you often find pre-marinated tenderloins in your grocery butcher case for $4/lb.  But we're not here to talk about tenderloins, we're talking about loins...

The loin is a collection of muscles in the back which yield several cuts including pork chops, back ribs, top loin roast, sirloin roast and center roast (which can be turned into a crown roast by "Frenching" the bones).  The top loin and sirloin roasts are usually very lean and can be very flavorful, especially for a price nearly half that of the tenderloin.

The tenderloin, because it is so tender, is a somewhat forgiving cut of pork for the inexperienced cook, but  loin roasts have a tendency to dry out if cooked incorrectly.  There's nothing more embarrassing than serving a dried out, tough crown roast; believe me, I've suffered that misfortune.  Luckily, there are many tactics you can employ to help your loin roast keep its moisture and flavor.

First off, I highly recommend brining a pork loin roast.  Not only does this add flavor to the meat, but the salt breaks down muscle fibers to tenderize them while at the same time encourages the protein cells to retain water.  Brine is simple to make - about 3/4 cup of kosher salt per gallon of water - and you can add whatever flavoring agents you like to the salt solution.  For pork, I love brown sugar and apple cider vinegar.  The salt will carry those flavors into the deepest parts of the meat if given enough time.  Science!

Traditionally, this would be the perfect application for basting.  Now, I didn't go to culinary school so maybe I'm missing out on some trick, but I hate basting and I'm pretty sure that it doesn't actually work.  You pull the juices out and spritz the top of the roast, where they just run back down to the bottom of the pan.  Whatever's left gets put back into the hot oven where it evaporates and dries the meat out further.  Not to mention that opening and closing your oven over and over to baste affects the cooking temperature and time.  Someone give me one reason why basting works.  I dare you.

For fatty roast like shoulder, you can use the old "low and slow" technique in which fat collagen melts into gelatin and moistens the pork.  That's a long process though, and doesn't work well with lean loin cuts.  So what if there were a way to artificially marble the roast with fat?  Oh, that's called larding and it's ridiculously difficult even with the proper equipment.  There is another method of fat addition that basically bastes a roast automatically while it cooks.  It's called barding, but you probably know it better as bacon-wrapping.

Technically, you can bard with any kind of fat.  Fatback is the most traditional barding fat, but bacon is more readily available (unless you are on a first name basis with your butcher, which you probably should be if you're reading cooking blogs) and does an adequate job.  Plus, if you tell somebody that you wrapped it in bacon, they'll probably salivate.  If you tell them it's wrapped in fatback, they'll probably skip dinner and head to the gym.

So we're going to make a barded back roast (bacon-wrapped pork loin).  Start with a 4-5 pound roast and brine it in your fridge for a day or two.  Yeah, you need to plan ahead: you plan to fail when you fail to plan.  On the day you're going to cook, pull the roast out and let it sit at room temperature for a bit while you're warming up the oven to 450 and prepping the accoutrement.  If you've got a roasting rack for your pan, set it up, but if you don't you can make a natural rack by lining the bottom of the pan with carrots and onions.

Pork loin needs some help in the flavor department, so it's usually a good idea to coat the outside of it with herbs.  I used fresh rosemary, garlic, salt, pepper and olive oil.  Sage is nice with pork too.  If you've got a mortar and pestle, mash it all up into a paste and slather it on there.  If you don't, crush it with a spoon to release the essences from the fresh herbs before applying to the roast.

Now for the bard.  Apply enough bacon to cover the whole roast from end to end.  Overlap the slices a little bit since they'll shrink up in the oven.

You want the oven to be at 450 when the roast goes in because you want to hit the bacon hard so it'll get crispy and release its fat into the roast below.  However, you should only cook at 450 for about 15 minutes - 20 tops - until the bacon just starts to crisp up at the edges.  Any longer than that and you run the risk of drying out the loin: even with brining and barding you still can't abuse it with temperature.  Drop that heat to 350 and let it go until it reaches an internal temperature of 140, which should only take another 50-60 minutes.  It should look beautiful and you will want to tear right into it.

DON'T!!!  Let it rest on a cutting board for about 20 minutes.  The carryover cooking will bring it up to a safe temperature of 145 degrees (thanks USDA) and the resting will allow all the juices - remember how hard we worked to keep those? - to settle throughout the roast instead of spilling out.  While you're waiting, rescue the carrots and onions from the bottom of the roasting pan.  Maybe chop up some red potatoes and roast those in the oven.  Just don't cut the meat until it's done resting.  Your patience will be greatly rewarded.