Cheese and Choux

For one whole year of my life, I didn't eat meat.  I wasn't quite a vegetarian, because I still ate fish and shrimp and scallops and various other sea urchins.  I would easily devour a plate of pasta and mussels.  To this day, I don't exactly remember when I started eating meat again.  I think it was during my first semester of law school and, embarrassingly enough, I'm not sure that I put much thought in it.  But that doesn't mean that the question hasn't been with me all along.  To eat meat or to not eat meat - it's been a question that has plagued me since I was a little girl.  

Even as young one, I was perplexed by my society's reasoning.  I loved (and still love) my dog.  It never made sense, no matter how many times I deconstructed the logic, to eat a pig and to not eat my dog.  As I became older, and my world accordingly extended, the logic continued to confound.  In various parts of Asia, I learned, they'll readily eat dog.  In almost every state in India however, they have outlawed the killing of cows.  The Hindus believe cows to be the symbol of "unselfish giving."  And don't even get me started on ducks.  During my summers at the beach, I felt that I literally grew up with the ducklings.  I'd eat my cereal overlooking the bay or watch them waddle along our dock.  One summer, I found a duck egg under our porch and dutifully covered it with leaves in a feeble attempt at protection.  So, while duck pate may be a delicacy in France, I'll readily leave that one for someone else's plate.

If I didn't practice yoga regularly, I might not feel as guilty as I do for eating meat.  In yoga, whatever your form (be it ashtanga, hatha, or iyengar), admitting sheepishly to one's carnivorousness tendencies borders on the taboo.  I've often noticed that an acknowledgment of meat-eating takes the form of an apology.  Even though I stopped being vegetarian, for the aforementioned reasons that I can no longer remember, I might have started up again due to yoga.  Or maybe, due to the fact that I wholeheartedly believe in what yoga represents: being mindful, a levity of being, a being in one with the spirit.  And no yoga teacher, at least as of yet, has led me to believe that I can attain these truths with a hamburger wedged between my teeth.  So, it might have been only a matter of time for me.  I might have given up meat forever.  But then (insert drum roll here), I met my husband.

My husband is an unapologetic, even proud, carnivore.  He's tapered it somewhat with me having taken over the kitchen.  He doesn't eat nearly as much red meat; he's much more amenable to fish and beans.  However, he's also made perfectly clear that his loyalty to meat is firm - as is his never-ending quest for man's perfect hamburger.  In time, I might even give him some blog space to expound on that point.  But I digress.  It's very 1950s (something out of a Deborah Karr movie, really) to say, but I absolutely adore cooking with my husband.  I've even compromised for him.  He allows me to throw some black beans on a homemade pizza and to thrust vegetables into any meal, in any way that I can.  In turn, I indulge with him in a perfectly cooked filet.  At the very least, I'm a ready assistant in his quest to find the perfect hamburger.

So, maybe like you, I've drawn my lines in the sand.  I won't eat any of the babies: the lamb, the veal, etc.  I want my meat organic and cage-free.  I still find it appalling that we eat meal in the United States that the European Union won't even deign to sell, but I digress.  My lines are in the sand.  Because there is no great loyalty, when the wind blows, my lines even shift.  I might someday stop eating meat again, but for now I'm comfortable with being as conscientious as I am.  We don't eat meat everyday.  As a result, when we do, I want it to be perfect.  And in the long line of recipes I intend to share as tantamount to Lizzie's-post-exam-extravaganza(!!!), this daube is perfect.  This daube (while admittedly, nothing less than a process to cook) results in the most tender pork imaginable.  It's pork that will melt in your mouth in a velvet collapse.  Upon eating it, even Jordan was stunned.  He said that he'd never had meat like that before.  I encourage you try it, because each step by itself requires only minimal preparation and effort.  The meat marinades and cooks for three days, resulting in a stew that is nothing less than carmelized. 

All in all, I'm not particularly proud that I eat meat.  I think that I still eat it most of all for emotional reasons.  I want to be able to make my mother's chicken salad, and my grandmother's Thanksgiving turkey.  I'm not ready, not quite yet, to give up that shared history.  And when I do cook meat, when I really commit to it for an evening, it has to be worthy of them.

Pork and Wild Mushroom Daube, pilfered from Food and Wine, February 2007

Ingredients

3 pounds well-marbled boneless pork shoulder, cut into 2 1/2 inch pieces

One 750-millileter bottle Viognier

1 medium onion, thinly sliced

1 medium carrot

Bouquet garni: 6 sprigs each of parsley, thyme and winter savory plus 2 bay leaves and 1 leafy celery top, tied with twine

Spice bundle: 1/2 teaspoon lavender flowers, 12 crushed peppercorns and 12 crushed juniper berries, tied in a cheesecloth

1 1/2 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil

Daube

1 1/2 ounces dried porcini (1 cup)

Water

3 tablespoon extra virgin olive oil

Salt and freshly ground pepper

1 tablespoon all-purpose flour

2 1/2 tablespoons brandy

1 large onion, thinly sliced

1 large carrot, cut into 1/2-inch dice

4 ounces fresh pork skin with a thin layer of fact, cut into 2-by-1/2-inch strips

1 head of garlic, separated into cloves but not peeled

10 crushed juniper berries

Reserved bouquet garni

Garnish

3 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil

 1 1/2 pounds oyster and cremini mushrooms, halved if large

Salt and freshly ground pepper

4 garlic cloves, minced

1/3 cup finely chopped parsley

1 teaspoon red wine vinegar

Instructions

1) MARINATE THE PORK: Put the pork in a large bowl.  Add the wine, onion, carrot, bouquet garni, spice bundle and olive oil.  Cover and refrigerate overnight.

2) The next day, pour the pork into a colander set over a bowl.  Discard the onion and carrot.  Squeeze the spice bundle over the meat,then discard the bundle.  Reserve the pork, bouquet garni and the marinade.

3) MAKE THE DAUBE: In a bowl, soak the porcini in 1 cup of hot water until softened, about 20 minutes.  In a large skillet, heat 2 tablespoons of the oil.  Season the pork with salt and pepper.  Add half o the pork to the skillet and cook over moderately high heat until well-browned all over; transfer to a plate.  Repeat with the remaining pork.

4) Return the pork to the skillet and sprinkle with flour.  Stir over moderate heat until the flour has dissolved, about 1 minute.  Add the brandy and carefully ignite it with a long match; shake the skillet until the flames die down.  Return the pork to the plate.  Add the remaining 1 tablespoon of olive oil to the skillet along with the onion and carrot.  Season with salt and cook over moderately low heat, stirring occasionally, until the vegetables are lightly browned, about 10 minutes.

5) Lift the porcini from the soaking liquid and coarsely chop them; reserve the soaking liquid.  Add the porcini to the skillet and cook for 3 minutes, stirring.

6) Preheat the over to 250 degrees.  Line the bottom of a 4 1/2 quart enameled cast-iron casserole with the pork skin, fat side down.  Spoon 1/3 of the pork over the skin followed by 1/3 of the vegetable mixture and 1/3 of the garlic cloves.  Season with salt and pepper and sprinkle with some of the juniper berries.  Repeat this layering 2 more times.

7) Return the skillet to moderately high heat.  Pour in the reserved porcini soaking liquid, stopping before you reach the grit at the bottom.  Add the reserved pork marinade and bring to a simmer, scraping up any browned bits from the bottom of the skillet.  Boil until reduced 2 cups.  Pour this liquid over the daube.

8) Tuck the reserved garni into the daube.  Add enough water to the casserole to just cover the meat and bring to a boil over moderately high heat.  Place a round of parchment paper directly on the surface of the meat and cover with the lid.  Transfer the casserole to the oven and bake until the meat is tender, about 2 1/2 hours.  Let cool to room temperature.  Discard the parchment paper, bouquet garni and any bits of juniper berry.  Refrigerate the daube overnight.

9) MAKE THE GARNISH: Preheat the oven to 250 degrees.  In a large skillet, heat 2 tablespoons of the oil until shimmering.  Add the oyster and cremini mushrooms and season with salt and pepper.  Cover and cook over moderate heat, stirring occasionally, until the mushrooms are softened, about 5 minutes.  Remove the lid.  Continue cooking, stirring occasionally, until the liquid has evaporated and the mushrooms start to brown, about 4 minutes.  Add the remaining 1 tablespoon of olive oil and the garlic and cook, stirring, until fragrant, about 3 minutes.  Stir in the chopped parsley.

10) Scrape the fat from the surface of the daube and discard it.  Mix the mushrooms into the daube and bring to a simmer over high heat, stirring frequently.  Bake the daube for about 1 1/2 hours, uncovered, until the liquid has reduced slightly and the meat is very tender.  Stir in the vinegar, season with salt and pepper and serve.