I'll eat my over-exuberance with the pork and beans

As you may well imagine, behind the scenes here at Pot Tossery there's plenty of discussion ranging from complimentary back-slapping on how amazing each other's food looks, future posting intentions and how we're not getting round to writing things, and really vain things like how many view we're getting, most recently how Kirsty's Tumblrs have completely besieged my introduction post after referring to me on there as massively talented.  More of them were interested in my introduction than the chipotle post also linked, despite insistence that there wasn't a massive picture of my face accompanying it.  But what can you do?  Anyway, the whole point to this waffle is that, in keeping with my Whim Based Cooking, when I get an idea I tend to build it up, mainly because I can't stop myself from talking about it.  Which is where this one comes into play.

Back in Pot Tossery's infancy, I was telling my friend Phil about it in the beer garden (and by that I mean large patch of tarmac) of the Bell and Hare in Tottenham.  He asked if I was going to just show my triumphs, or whether or not I'd include the fuck ups as well (this already sounds ominous, right?)  I said I would be, as it was intended to be a document of culinary experimentation, nay, ADVENTURE, and therefore I wouldn't be attempting to ignore the disasters and pretend everything went smoothly in my kitchen.  So far, despite seemingly constantly blustering into unchartered waters (just because I can, apparently) of things I've not done before and fretting about the consequences, everything has so far come out reasonably unscathed.  This all sounds like I should be building up to some spectacular failure, a plate of absolute shit that's impassable as anywhere near edible.  Not quite.  Some slight re-adjustments were in order, and having come out the other end relatively unscathed, my initial trauma at what was originally intended as the entire purpose of the existence of this post going to pot has morphed into a kind of "shit, I've actually got something I can really write about here" state of mind.

I last left these parts stating my intentions to get to grips with bits of animals that most people would turn their nose up at (and I think I have come to the realisation that what I said back in post number three about my liking some things partly due to other people's disgust at the mere thought of eating them carries a bit more weight than I initially thought.)  So think about bits I did.  I didn't want to just have a demonstration of 'I bought a new cook book and cooked something from it, well done me', and herein lies the first error on my behalf.  When effectively making up dishes, it's kind of advisable not to charge in and plan to use things which you've never eaten, let alone cooked with.  Like pig's trotters. 

I was originally intending something based upon Fergus Henderson's Pigs Trotter Stuffed With Potato, served with what turned out to be a fairly rigorous bastardisation of Nigel Slater's Soup-stew of Beans and Cavalo Nero from Tender Vol. I.  Instead I was going to stuff the trotter with a stuffing made from liver, anchovies, sage and garlic.  It would probably go really well with mash, or some form of purée, but I really can't stand root vegetables made to resemble a liquid more than a solid, so I went for beans instead given how versatile they are and how well they can stand up to other flavours.  Sorted.  Except for my underestimation of the pig's trotter, or in fact my overestimation of how much meat there might be on one.  I'm sure I remember on Masterchef: The Professionals when the contestants had to prepare one there was enough.  As it turns out, I was thinking of a trotter and hock in one.  Sails deflated.  So in the end I just got a piece of pork loin and thought "well there goes the whole purpose and reason behind this exercise" (other than to feed myself, that is).  In actual fact I think it would work better with a piece of belly rather than loin.  Belly would lend itself better to spreading the stuffing across the underside and rolling, and therefore being more similar in shape to the original intention of trotters.

So anyway, the recipe.  As I will say later, this could use a few tweaks, and in doing so could end up being really good.  It could also use some tweaks in the sense of actually knowing all the proper quantities, but as I almost entirely winged this, it's somewhat vague in places, so do bear with me.  At least my quantities will be more descriptive than a 'cup'.  This is how I made it, imperfections and all.

One piece of pork loin.  As much as you feel you can eat.
About a square inch and a half of liver.  Ideally pig's liver I suppose, but I used lamb's and it was fine.
4 anchovy fillets (3 would probably be better, as the flavour was probably a bit too dominant at times)
3 large cloves of garlic
5 sage leaves
Pork fat, enough to wrap around the meat.  Caul fat would be ideal, I used a really thin piece of back fat as it was all I could get hold of.  And it was fine.
60g dried borlotti beans (50g is probably enough)
Half a large white onion (or even a whole small one)
Half a large carrot (ditto)
2 bay leaves
Olive oil
3 handfuls of kale
Approximately 500ml liquid (water, stock, liquor from soaking the beans, or any combination of the three)
1 rasher of bacon (pancetta, or your own home cured bacon would be superb)
Salt and pepper

Soak the beans in plenty of cold water overnight.  You could use tinned though, in which case you don't need to.  Drain and rinse the beans and place in a large pan and cover with fresh, cold water.  Don't add any salt at this stage, as it will prevent the beans from softening.  Bring to the boil and skim any foam from the surface.  Add the bay leaves and a splash of oil (about a tablespoon or so) and boil for around 45 minutes, or until they are just softening. 

Preheat the oven to 200°C/Gas Mark 6.  Meanwhile, finely chop the liver and anchovies and mix together with two crushed cloves of garlic, the sage leaves, also finely chopped, and some ground black pepper.  Cut a pocket down the middle of the pork loin, as if you were separating it into steaks but not cutting all the way through.  Spread the liver/anchovies mix into the pocket and wrap the meat in the fat.  It doesn't matter how neatly you do this - if you're using caul fat then it should all pretty much melt away, if you're using back fat like I did, you'll remove it later. 

Heat a splash of olive oil in a pan and get it really hot.  Sear the fat wrapped meat on all sides until brown but not burnt.  This is to seal the fat so that it keeps the meat away from direct heat, and holds the stuffing inside.  Transfer to the oven and cook for about 15 minutes.  In totally winging this, I didn't actually time how long mine was in the oven.  It was around 20 minutes I think, and it was just slightly over done. 

Drain the beans, reserving the liquor if you will be using some of it later.  Dice the onion, carrot and other clove of garlic and sweat gently in a pan until soft.  Chop the bacon/pancetta and add to the pan and fry until coloured and fat has been released.  Add the beans, kale and stock/water/bean liquor and, turning the heat up, cook until the beans are properly soft and almost all the liquid has evaporated.  Season with salt if needed, and lots of ground black pepper.  The meat should be ready whilst you're doing this, so take it out of the oven and let it rest for as long as you can before removing the fat casing (if need be). 

Slice the pork and serve on top of the beans and kale.

Usually you'd get step by step pictorial evidence, but in this case there's only one, just before I wolfed the whole lot down.  As I said, it needs some tweaking.  It could use slightly less anchovy, as their flavour managed to become prevalent over the other stuffing ingredients.  The beans and kale really benefits from having an awful lot of pepper added at the end (what I suspect a certain redhead would refer to as a 'fuckton').  I'm usually livid at myself if I ever overcook meat, but in this instance I'm willing to give myself a bit of leeway, given that I didn't really know what I was doing, and I didn't want to remove the fat only to have to return it to the oven.  I tried the old stick-a-skewer-in-and-see-what-colour-the-juices-run thing, but even though the meat was cooked it ran bright red because of the liver inside.  I think cooking meat whilst wrapped in fat for protection is definitely the way forward (or at least one of them).  If I'd taken it out of the oven a few minutes earlier it would have been spot on and moist as anything.  Above all else, though, this was actually really damn tasty.

And the trotter made a really good looking stock, too.

on the grass being greener.

ok, wow. so of all the rash and ill-thought out decisions i've made in life, turning vegetarian and then starting a food blog with somebody talented enough to make me really, really wish i hadn't is right up there near the top. i had the luxury of seeing process-pictures throughout the day yesterday and they were so good i ended up showing them round at work, as and when i received them.

is anyone else surprised that the first ethics post came from the meat eater? you shouldn't be. realistically speaking, i am aware of the already massive count of preachy veggies in the world, and don't plan on joining their ranks. i am completely and totally with ed on the fact that if you will eat meat you should be responsible about it, and i agree with absolutely every point he makes in his thoughts on it. my own departure from the flesh was fuelled in part by disingenous friends and associates who were economical with the truth of the provenance of what they served, and discussing with my vegetarian friend (who was at the time studying a masters that involved numerous explorations into impacts on marine environments) the omissions and oversights involved in the labelling of seafood. 'responsibly fished, sustainably caught' langoustines are still trawled, which still means bycatch, which to me is very irresponsible indeed. it became something i couldn't think about anymore, and as someone who strives to live their politics it became something i simply couldn't do any more. it's a personal decision, however, and i really don't want to get into all the things i disagree with because i would be here forever, however i will say that if more meat eaters were as responsible as ed (and previously, me; i ate offal in my time), then there probably wouldn't be any need for angsty conscience-guideds like me to go vegetarian and make people feel carnivore's guilt in the first place.

i do, i have to admit, find it highly amusing that the weekend ed was making something so inherently animal-y, i was indulging in the kind of worthy, earthy cooking, that so many people associate with vegetarianism. you know what i mean, the kind that makes everybody think we're all neil from the young ones, not to mention undernourished and not real food fans. i find all those notions laughable. i have not, as yet lost any fierceness since i gave up eating body parts, nor have i declined in health. and as for not being a real food fan? well, really? i think we all know by now that i am almost childishly guided by appetites and within my dietary parameters and environmental beliefs, a total hedonist, it just comes out in different ways.

so, let's talk bean curry shall we? i have to say even when still an omnivore i made dishes like this allllll the time. why? because it's the kind of food i like. it's boldly flavoured and coloured, it fits in with my big-dish approach (you can blame my desire for abundance on my late northern-irish great grandmother's early influence), and it's, on a practical level, enough to keep your average highly strung barmaid going through a friday night shift. so without further ado, from nigel slater's tender vol. I, i present you with (the recipe for, fuck copyright law, i can reproduce seventeen percent of whatever i choose for educational purposes, and the author is correctly credited):

cabbage with beans, coconut, and coriander

enough for 4-6

dried haricot beans, 200g

onions, 2 medium

vegetable or groundnut oil, 2 tablespoons

garlic, 3 cloves

green cardamoms, 8

coriander seeds, 2 teaspoons

yellow mustard seeds, a teaspoon

cumin seeds, a teaspoon

ground turmeric, 2 teaspoons

chillies, 3 small, hot

chopped plum tomatoes, two 400g cans

a pinch of sugar

coconut milk, 250ml

fresh coriander, a large handful

a lime, maybe 2

for the greens

a soft, leafy cabbage, such as spring greens - a good handful or more per person.

soak the dried beans in water overnight. the next day, boil the beans till tender in deep, unsalted water. drain and set aside. (if you are using canned beans, rinse them under cold running water, then set aside.)

peel the onions, cut them in half and slice them thinly. add them to the oil in a large, deep pan and let them soften, colouring lightly over a moderate heat. this often takes longer than you might imagine, a good fifteen minutes at least. peel and chop the garlic and add to the onions.

crack the cardamom pods open and extract the tiny seeds. crush these coarsely, using a pestle and mortar or a very heavy rolling pin, then stir them into the softening onions. crush the coriander seeds and then the mustard, and add them to the onions, with the whole cumin seeds, ground turmeric, a generous seasoning of salt and pepper. cook, stirring regularly, for at least five minutes, so that the spices toast in the heat.

meanwhile, seed and finely chop the chillies, and add, with the chopped tomatoes, 400ml of water and a pinch of sugar, followed by the cooked beans. leave to simmer gently over a low heat, with the occasional stir, partially covered with a lid, for about thirty five to forty minutes.

mix the coconut milk into the sauce, simmer for a further five minutes, then add the coriander leaves and the lime juice. when the curry is almost ready, make a tight fist of the greens and shred them quite finely. steam or blanch briefly, then serve with the curry.

okay, so i'm going to let the colours of this badboy speak for themselves. i am such a visual magpie (note the bright red hair and penchant for chaotic sequinned clothes) that i insist on brightly coloured dishes like this in months like january. this really is the kind of food i love cooking. slowly adding spices to a big pot and filling the house with the smell (anyone who lived with me in university will attest to this; coming home to the smell of indian spices was a regular occurence for them). i think the only changes i made were using canned beans, and using a coffee grinder i devoted to spice-grinding a long time ago. i haven't been serving this with rice, but eating it by the huge bowlful, steaming the greens as and when i need them, as i'm not major on carbs where i don't think they're necessary (pasta with garlic bread, j'accuse). if i was making it for a non vegetarian friend, i might perhaps lazily fry some parathas at the stove, glass of wine in hand, just to stop it seeming so lentil-brigade, but myself i preferred to just appreciate the deep spiciness of the beans with the clean mineral taste of the cabbage. oh, and regarding cabbage; haters to the left. you don't like it because you've had it cooked badly. all kinds of cabbage are a thing of beauty and have their rightful place in cuisine. i mentioned that northern irish great grandmother, right?