The only white meat: 7x7's Jessica Battilana takes porchetta head on, probing the trend that's made the sliced pork as common a sandwich filling as honey-roasted turkey. Exagerrating. Still, from the Ferry Building to Dogpatch, you can't swing a cat in this town without smacking some mention of the Tuscan set piece, in some form or other. What's the deal, asks Battilana. Could it be the media, or is that chefs can't keep their eyes on their own menus, like slacker kids cheating on the SAT? Well, sure.
Isn't it that the last half decade has shown us just how hard it is to source truly pastured beef -- and in general, just how problematic beef is -- but that humane, small-scale, arguably local pork production has blossomed? Besides, the whole hog movement has made us all friendly to pork, and face it, we're all suckers for Tuscany, even if we've never painted our kitchens some godawful orange we called Terra Cotta. Truth is, the brine-cured roast pork loin of the late '90s has simply morphed into porchetta, thanks in part to a few influential sources like Judy Rodgers (we suspect the cooks at Kitchenette, for instance, even use the recipe from The Zuni Café Cookbook). Battilana's right: Chefs are sensitive to language, and menuspeak -- like jeans -- is subject to fashion. Whiskered is out, baby. Schmears of garlic, herbs, and anchovy are the flesh equivalent of the boyfriend jean.
Each Elixir seminar promises to lead willing tipplers through a globe-spanning breakdown of distillation methods, with tastings to match with some of today's foremost whiskey experts. Events kick off Sunday with Glenmorangie brand ambassador David Blackmore holding forth on the aging process of one of the best-selling single-malt Scotches in the world. He will lead a tasting selection that promises "a full sensory analysis of the components found in Glenmorangie whiskies." The seminar proper runs from 6 to 8 p.m., but the, ahem, tasting portion will continue (in true Elixir form) until 2 a.m.
On Monday, October 12, the fun starts all over again at Elixir with Charbay Winery and Distillery 13th-generation master distiller Marko Karakasevic. As the name suggests, he knows his booze (the family business includes whiskey, vodka, tequila, grappa, and several wine varietals). A few fantastic cocktails will be available, as well as tastes of a rare bottle of Charbay Pilsner Whiskey II. The seminar runs from 7 to 9 p.m., with Charbay cocktail specials served all night.
"These fry establishments are like, everywhere," Hermelin said. "Fries and maybe 40 different types of sauce. I thought, That's amazing -- I want to bring that back with me." That Guy's Fries will start with skin-on specimens cut from fresh potatoes, fried in vegetable oil, and served with maybe just one or two sauces: a honey mustard Hermelin came up with, and possibly horseradish ketchup. The two have been soliciting ideas from their followers on Twitter.
Why street food, beyond fond memories of having the munchies in Amsterdam? "We were just trying to come up with the next idea," said Hermelin, who has a day job (Bielecki's still in school). "In this economy. The reality is we have to have jobs -- like, real jobs. But we both wanted something else that was small, and that we could grow." Hermelin and Bielecki also sell adorable if slightly deranged plush animals on Etsy, under the name Stuffed Misfit. Follow their updates on Twitter.
Stripped of its glistening Cryovac plastic, the meat didn't look very promising; ditto when we released it from its taut plastic. But after only a few minutes in a nonstick pan (it comes with sufficient pig fat, so no additional oil or butter is needed), we had wonderful-smelling, appetizing-looking, moist, and amazingly delicious carnitas with the crisp edges we crave. If you prefer braised carnitas, chunk up the meat and steam above simmering water -- voila! (It comes with microwave instructions, too, but so far we've managed very nicely without that particular appliance, thanks.)
Del Real carnitas has just about replaced spaghetti aglio e olio as the lazy girl's supper chez nous. We like to roll hunks in tortillas with pico de gallo, corn relish, sour cream, and just about an equal weight of cilantro. We also like it fried, for breakfast or supper, with a couple of over-easy eggs, refried beans, and again, lots o' cilantro. Where we shop, it costs $7.49 a pound, and a single package is enough to feed four very nicely.
