On a recent rainy Sunday, The historic barrel room at the Culinary Institute of America in Napa Valley become a cracklin-, lard- and offal-stuffed temple of pork. Stationed around the high-ceilinged stone room that, more than 100 years ago,  served as the aging cellar for local wineries such as Charles Krug and Beringer (both just down the street), five anxious-looking chefs surrounded by a team of eager-to-please assistants and CIA students rushed to put the finishing touches on plates that artfully displayed weeks of thought, planning and, of course, lots of preparation. Each chef had managed to break down his own heritage-bred animal and, using every tendril and tendon, prepare a feast of tiny bites for a panel of professional judges and a mob of pork- and wine-lovers.

Participating in Cochon 555 is an honor: for the chefs, the winemakers and yes, even for the pigs. For those who don’t know, the “555” stands for five chefs, five pigs and five winemakers. In most major cities, the chefs are the super stars of the event (playing second banana to only the chocolate covered bacon), but in a diverse agricultural region like Napa Valley, winemakers and farmers elbow in for space at the trough.

While preserving heritage breeds and supporting the farmers who raise them is the ultimate goal of Cochon, along the way they manage to create feasts that celebrate the art of butchery, cooking and bring communities together around the proverbial table.

Or ironing board, as it were. Chris L’Hommedieu, the Chef at Michael Mina in San Francisco, and his team, wearing T-shirts graffitied with the names of pig parts, had the most creative presentation we have seen at any Cochon event to date. Ironing boards covered in red- and white-checkered oil cloths served as tables around which judges unpacked pulled pork sliders, bags of crispy pig ears, belly and offal rillettes (served with pretzel bread) and tiny chocolate cupcakes frosted with pork lard from individual “pig-nic” bags. Even the thinly sliced pickled beets and carrots were cut into the shape of a pig.

While L’Hommedieu was an early favorite, he was not to be the ultimate winner. Neither was Michael Tuohy of Dean & Deluca, in spite of the crowd pleasing chorizo mac and cheese,  heart meat hot dogs and a Moroccan spiced pork and chickpea stew. It was, however, not meat, but his pickled Romanesco that had the other chef’s returning to his table throughout the night.

To cleanse the palate between nibbles of cracklin’ and rendered lard, guests were offered “Manhattans” (really just whiskey with a couple of cherries and ice) courtesy of Hudson Baby Bourbon and, another chef favorite, Anchor Steam beer. While the pig parts were offally good, the Hama Hama oysters, piquing at that exact moment it seemed, provided another much-needed break.

While wine inevitably plays a supporting role at Cochon events, this year’s producers gave the piggies a run for their money. (This is Wine Country after all). Pax Mahle, Steve Mathiasson and Abe Schoener make for a trifecta of cutting edge winemakers. Between the Wind Gap, Mathiasson and Scholium Project labels, respectively, ten different varietals from as many regions across Northern California were represented. From a whole cluster Syrah to a skin-fermented Sauvignon Blanc, tasting the wines alone would have been a treat. The fact that they paired perfectly with the jars (jars!) of bacon stocked by the  Black Pig Meat Company was simply a bonus.

In the end the victory went to the host: Lars Kronmark of the CIA and his army of students will take their head terrine to the national competition this spring.

But just when you thought the pork had stopped flowing, the real feast began. Chef Jonathon Bodnar of Smoakville in Napa and Jonathon Fink of San Fran-based The Whole Beast rolled out their southern-inspired spread complete with potato salad and crispy cole slaw, which served mostly to feed the competing chefs, the winemakers and the lucky few who still weren’t stuffed. While not technically competing, The Whole Beast-Smoakville feast was widely agreed upon by all who remained to be the best of the night.

A couple of weeks ago, our friends at The Whole Beast, which specializes in cooking whole animals, took on the task of feeding the hungry hordes at the Hardly Strictly Bluegrass festival in Golden Gate Park (which regularly brings out up to 500,000 people). John Fink and his crew prepared lamb gyros of whole lambs they cooked in the park in the massive undertaking. One onlooker described Fink as pushing through like “a B-17 bombardier” — a bombardier who butterflies lambs for hours on end.

Here are the final numbers for The Whole Beast’s weekend:

28 whole lambs

1,000 lbs of potatoes for french fries

350 lbs of Mangalista (or “Wooly Pig”) fat rendered into lard

70 gallons of yogurt for sauce (which came donated in individual 6 oz packages)

40 lbs of porcini mushrooms

4 festival staffers to help lift the grilling rig onto the truck’s hitch

3 all-nighters to prep

The line for The Whole Beast's Lamb Gyros

We’re not afraid to tackle the big questions here at The Butcher. Just such a question has recently arisen over what exactly is Pulled Pork? There are two sides that have been taken in this debate, and the arguments are below. We’ll be appealing to some higher powers for a definitive answer, but in the meantime please feel free to consider, contemplate and weigh in.

Pulled Pork is BBQ. End of Story
Occasionally at The Butcher, we come across folks who are grossly misinformed about meat and its provenance. We found ourselves in just such a position this past weekend when we were confronted by an individual who made the specious claim that (to paraphrase) “pulled pork need not be barbecued, it simply must be pork that is pulled from any cut of the pig prepared in any cooking manner.” To wit, went this argument, “pulled pork” is not a cooking technique involved in barbecuing a pig, but instead is a method of preparing any pork cut.

Our bile was up at this suggestion as it is our contention that “pulled pork” is barbecue—end of story. And yes, there are any number of pretenders to the “pulled pork” genre and Paula Deen will happily tell you how to make pulled pork in a slow cooker. But this is no more accurate than calling sparkling wine from the Finger Lakes region of New York, Champagne. All sparkling wine is not Champagne just because it has bubbles, and all pork that is pulled is not pulled pork strictly because it’s been pulled. Sabe? Then there are people who will just call any old artificially carbonated white white champagne (they’ll even drink the stuff). But don’t get us started on Sandra Lee.

Pulled Pork is NOT Necessarily BBQ
I sense that over the course of this debate, I have somehow become positioned as a dilettante of barbecue. Admittedly, I am no expert in this arena, but as one who certainly appreciates the tender juicy goodness of slowly cooked pig, I feel that I am entitled to assert my humble opinion. It’s true that in some circles in the South Eastern United States, pulled pork is synonymous with barbecue. I just don’t think the story ends there.

I’d also like to state that the act of pulling or shredding pork (or any other meat) is dependent upon the cut of the meat as well as the cooking technique employed. Obviously, grilled pork chops don’t lend themselves to being pulled. Besides, why would one want to violate a perfect package of meaty goodness? But, I digress…

After a fair amount of contemplation,I have realized that the root of this contention lies plainly in the semantics of the term barbecue. The term itself can be used in a variety of ways: as a noun to refer to the meat, the cooking apparatus itself, or to a party that includes such food or such preparation methods. The term can also be used as an adjective to refer to foods cooked by this method, or as a verb for the act of cooking food in this manner. With all the flexibility of usage, it’s no surprise that this type of debate crops up from time to time.

Bottom line: It is completely reasonable to say that pulled pork is barbecue. Moreover, it is reasonable to say that pulled pork does not have to be barbecue. It is pork that is pulled apart prior to being served. There are many traditions around the world that employ the technique of slow cooking various cuts of meat by braising, or by traditional or convection baking, or by utilizing a slow cooker whereby the meat is pulled apart before it is served. I shudder to think of the reaction by any persons of Caribbean or Mexican heritage if referred to as “pretenders” of deliciously and authentically prepared dishes such as Pork Carnitas, or Ropa Vieja.

So there you have it readers. Let us know what you think in the comments.

Mistakes were made. We are the first to admit it. In a new place for a temporary period, we went in search of a grill and strayed from the path of Weber. It won’t happen again. Expecting our stay at Chez Boucher Ouest to last no more than six months, we thought a budget model charcoal grill would suffice. It would barely need to last one grilling season, we reasoned. We bought a 22″ UniFlame model. For $35 we could afford to let it rust when we departed this Valhalla for points east.

This was September. It’s now July. The ash catcher rusted completely off the mounting in June. It’s rare for the cheap wire brush you buy on the same day as a grill to outlast the grill itself. That’s what happened here.

Now, we are not going to argue that the UniFlame is anyway comparable to the Weber. We never thought that. The flame control on the UniFlame leaves much to be desired. The flimsy stamped aluminum lid feels cheap, but does not affect the lack of control nearly as much of the constant airflow through the poorly thought out design, full of seams and holes (the two for the top rack are especially troublesome). The grill does not have the simple, stable design of a Weber. No grill does. By October our UniFlame already listed badly. We’ve had decade-old Webers held together with electrical tape and twine that tipped less.

Two grills enter; one grill leaves

The design flaws are glaring. The four legs of the the UniFlame could never compare to the holy trinity of legs on the Weber. The internal mechanism (three simple and cheap aluminum blades) lasts forever (and that’s a mighty long time) and performs its job perfectly.

The external sliders on the wind-inviting ash-catching tin cup attachment which serves to both receive falling ash and control airflow on the UniFlame could feed an inferno even when battened down tight, and rusted through in months (until the slide attaching it to the grill rusted right through).

Head-to-head, there is no comparison. The Weber gives precise control of the heat and intensity of the flames coming from the briquettes. The UniFlame worked okay for a while and then fell apart. The price difference might be easily made up in the cost of the extra charcoal that the UniFlame burns. In fact, after it was a month or two old, nearly all the charcoal left in the UniFlame after cooking was done and the grill shut “tight” burned out into ash.

We now have a 18.5″ Weber that cost twice as much as our UniFlame, which, it must be said, now makes a fine base for our fire pit.

Forgive us, Weber. We won’t stray again.

Charcoal Revelation from jeff ely on Vimeo.

 
We’ve just found a new depth of respect for college economics professors here at the Butcher Blog. Just in time for the weekend, the easiest method we’ve ever seen for opening a bag of charcoal has been revealed. Generally, we just attack the bag with the nearest sharp object. Often we’re left with a ragged misshapen opening to reseal. No more. As the video above demonstrates, it’s easier than flossing to open the bag. Three easy steps as the good professor notes on his blog:

Step 1:  Orient yourself.  There is a front and a back.  The front side has clean loops, the back side string is ragged and knotted at the end. You have to pull the string from the back side.  It unravels from left to right.

Step 2:  Understand what you are doing.  There are really two strings here woven together.  There is a string on the front side which is pushed through in loops through each of the little holes in the bag.  Then a string on the back side is threaded through them also in a looping fashion.  The end of the string on the left side is then knotted onto the leftmost loop.  What you need to do is remove that knot and free up the end of the backside string so that you can pull it.

Step 3:  The endgame.  Once you have the end of the backside string all there is left to do is pull and the whole apparatus becomes unraveled. You can then extract the frontside string leaving you with two strings in your hand, a flap of paper to lift off the bag (and recycle) and finally a wide open bag of non-fossil fuel.  No hassle, no pointless yanking, no scissors.

It’s Friday, so fire it up.

Space Cowboy is still smoking up a storm (this time it’s pork), and since he lost his “smokestack” and had to make a new one, we figured his loss would be your gain. Herewith, additional details on how he fixes up his backyard smoker.

In addition to the aforementioned backyard smoking technique, there are really only two steps to this conversion. And they involve two of our favorite things: knives and Coors Banquet in cans.

Step one:

Jam the knife (a cheap one, please) into the can.

Step two:

Repeat until you have flaps you can bend inside the can.

Place can over vent on top of grill smoker:

And that’s basically it. Make sure you have more cans of Coors on hand because it’ll come in handy when you burn your hand removing the hot can from the vent after it’s been sitting on top on the grill for an hour (or you can use gloves or a towel). In a pinch, of course,Miller High Life will also do for treating the burn.

Smoking meat doesn’t have to be difficult (just, if done right, time consuming). For instance, our lackadaisical compatriot The Space Cowboy got a fine smoked flavor (along with a Rocky Mountain high) using nothing more than a simple $30 charcoal grill, some seasoned hardwood and a six-pack of Coors (you’ll notice this key ingredient in many of our recipes).

There are only a few key points to remember. No. 1 being you’ve got to keep your heat low (which can involve a bit trial and error). No. 2, your goal is to keep the meat on the heat as long as possible without drying it out.

The mantra we use is “Slow and low.”

With a jury-rigged backyard smoker, your down by a few counts. You don’t have any of the space (and hence room to disperse heat) of a bullet smoker, and you lack fine control of the flame, with only the vents on the underside and top to control the flame. So, even in the ideal scenario, the best you are going to produce is a “quick-smoked” meat. This wil have some flavor, though by no means is the genuine article. It’s the costume jewelry of the rib world.

In any case, start with generously rubbing your ribs with kosher salt, pepper, brown sugar and whatever spices suit you (cayenne, fennel, crushed red pepper, chile powder and paprika are popular favorites around these parts). Let the ribs sit the spices anywhere from an hour to overnight (depending on your level of preparedness). At least wo hours in advance, soak wood chips and small pieced from the hardwood in water.

Cover the entire bottom of the grill with the wood and some mesquite lump charcoal is you have it. Ignite and let burn. You’ll have to play with the grill to get it too burn slowly and every grill is different. Ours has a latch to close the top fast to the bottom. If yours doesn’t you’ll likely have to use a clamp of some sort to keep smoke from billowing out all around. Once your fire is going spread the wood you’d soaked over it.

Open one Coors can and empty contents into stomach. Once it’s empty turn the can upside down on a sturdy flat surface and pierce the bottom with a knife you don’t care very much about. Make a few cuts until you can bend the bottom up into the can making an opening. Now you have a smokestack to direct your smoke. As you can see, this is mainly for aesthetics.

Place your ribs in the grill on the top rack. Be mindful that opening the grill will reignite the fire, likely more than you want it burning. You’ll have to monitor the fire carefully with the vents.

You should cook the ribs until at least the rest of the six-pack of Coors is gone, longer if you drink like the Cowboy. Make sure you have something else to drink while you eat the ribs. Preferably something with more flavor than Coors. While the Coors can makes a fine smokestack, we can’t vouch for its contents’ flavor any more than we could tell you that the “Cold Activated” technology will still work after the can’s use in the smoker.

Food and wine from a region, as the Italians have proven, are a natural match. Thus, when we stumbled across some lovely little chops from pasture-raised New Zealand lamb, we naturally drifted over to the small New Zealand section of the wine store.

The two islands of New Zealand (North and South) are about 1,000 miles long, or roughly the size of Italy and, yes, the kiwis grow more than just Sauvignon Blanc.  We were really hoping  to find a Pinot Noir from Central Otage, the southernmost winemaking region in the world. But alas, the only New Zealand Pinot available was from Marlborough, a region further north on the South Island that is famous for fruit-walloping Sauvignon Blanc.

The Atkins Ranch lamb chops, all from free-range, grass-fed, naturally raised lambs, tends toward having a stronger flavor than other lamb. The meat is lean, or to be more precise, naturally lean, or as Atkins puts it, “grown-lean” not “lean-trimmed.” So the little guys are out there running around, lambing it up. The meat takes on a certain gaminess and more pronounced flavor, which, if you are a fan of lamb is a very good thing.

Some kosher salt, pepper, and olive oil are all these babies really need. For good measure we crusted the ends with a tandoori rub before throwing them on the grill. Grilling lamb chops, like the flavor itself, is altogether more delicate than grilling a steak. The thin chops cook quickly, and you don’t want to go past medium rare with these meat lollipops. On a hot flame, where the fire from the charcoal is just licking the grill, they’ll take less time than you expect to reach medium rare, around three minutes on the first side (one side will be thinner — start with that, so that you can let the meat settle thick side up) and four or so on the thicker side.

The pink meat seemed that it would not overpower the light-bodied Pinot, but unfortunately, we were wrong. A California Pinot may have worked better, with it’s ripe red fruit and richer style, but New Zealand Pinots are almost Burgundian in their earthy delicacy.  Fortunately, the lamb chops were merely an appetizer and after the bones were picked clean, we were finally able to find out what the wine actually tasted like.

Oh, California. They do all kinds of crazy things out West. Like put avocados on hamburgers and cut a triangular chunk out of the bottom sirloin of a cattle and call it a tri-tip. It’s sort of like a cross between a steak and a roast and perfect for people who have things like yards and Weber grills — Californians, in other words.

Originally called the Santa Maria Steak after its Central Valley place of origin, the affordable tri-tip can be found in just about every butcher case and on every menu from Tahoe to Topanga Canyon — a fact which, having discovered it, makes the Napa butcher’s only response to your question “what is a tri-tip?” — a chuckle and a “You from the East?” — understandable.

But the cleverness doesn’t stop there. Oh no, this is wine country — California produces some 90 percent of the country’s vino, after all — and what goes better with steak than red wine? How about a red wine from a wine region that is actually shaped like a steak? Yes, folks, the AVA designated grape-growing and wine-making appellation of Sonoma County is in fact referred to as the tri-tip of California, as we were told recently by Honore Comfort, the director of the Sonoma County Vintners Association.

It was here that Russian fur traders first planted wine grapes in the mid-1800s in the aptly named Russian River Valley and where, among the 60 miles of foggy coastline, 44 varietals of red grapes grow. Will a Sonoma Syrah pair well with a grilled tri on account of 2,000 of the 1 million acres of Sonoma County are planted to the savory, peppery varietal? We think it sounds like tonight’s dinner.

There are books about musicians — you know, that sad section of Barnes and Noble where 15-year old stoners thumb through frayed copies of “No One Here Gets Out Alive” — and then there are books about cooking — you know, “Mastering The Art of French Cooking.”

Well, now there is a place where these two books can meet and party down: “Mosh Potatoes.” And it has a picture of a fork making devil horns on the cover. The book, tagline “Cook out with your book out,” features recipes from the likes of Lemmy from Mötorhead, Zakk Wilde, members of Megadeth, Pantera, Quiet Riot, Queensryche, Hatebreed, and Kittie. Steve “Buckshot” Seabury, the author and mastermind behind these, as Simon and Schuster put it, “recipes, anecdotes and mayhem from the heavy weights of heavy metal,” has spent the past 20 years or so touring with, playing with, drinking with and, apparently, cooking with, some of the top metal bands. When not writing cookbooks he plays with his band Moth Eater and runs his label Giddy Up!. He was kind enough to take a moment to discuss the book and some of his heroes (appropriately, Angus) with us. And following the Q+A with Steve, a recipe from the book for Brazilian Lemon Chicken by Max Cavalera of Soulfly and Sepultura. The book hits bookstores Nov. 16, but if you don’t want to wrestle that stoner toting the Doors book, pre-order here.

Steve "Buckshot" Seabury

Could you have come up with the idea for “Mosh Potatoes” sober?
The answer is NO. I was so completely fucked up when I came up with the idea. I got home around 3 a.m. after a good night of drinking with some friends after a concert. I had the munchies, and White Castle was too far of a walk. The cupboards were bare, I had some Taco Bell Fire Sauce from the night before, a couple of eggs and some other stuff hiding in the back of the fridge that I probably wouldn’t feed my dog. I said to myself “What would Lemmy do in this situation?” The idea for “Mosh Potatoes” was created right there.

“What would Lemmy do?” is probably a sound way to approach any problem. The tagline “Cook out with your book out” is pure gold. Who came up with it?
My good buddy Glenn. He is a rock and roll Outlaw. We were talking about the book and trying to come up with a slogan over a couple of cold ones. He just blurted it out, and we both started cracking up laughing. It is absolute brilliant. I mean Rock Out With Your Cock Out to Cook Out With Your Book Out. Hells yeah. That is GOLD.

Who most surprised you with their recipes?
It’s so hard to narrow it down. Everyone has to eat, and we all have our favorite family recipes, so I wasn’t that surprised. All of these bands in “Mosh Potatoes” have toured the world experiencing foods that most of us would never get the chance to taste. There’s such an amazing diversity of food in this collection. Every page you have a different culinary experience.

Probably my favorite recipes in the book though: Evile’s Cheese On Toast, and you are going to freak out when you try the Guns & Roses Chili, Zakk Wylde’s Spaghetti & Meatballs, Pantera’s Texas BBQ From Hell, and Joey Z from Life of Agony has a kickass recipe called Stuffed Lobster Zampella.

Wait till you try the desserts. The guys in Fear Factory, Hatebreed and Megadeth can bake some badass goodies. I am getting hungry just thinking about it. The Naam Pecan Pie is to die for. Amazing.

Test kitchens can be dangerous/ scary places (at least ours can). Any mishaps in yours?
If you plan on making the Lemmy recipe I would prepare yourself with a fire extinguisher. No joke.

Who would you most like to cook with that you didn’t get to?
My favorite band of all time is AC/DC. I would love more than ever to fire up the grill with Angus and bullshit while we cook up some grub.

Outside of the book, in your experience, what’s the typical metal band’s idea of home cooking?
Loud music, alcohol and lots of good food. Period.

How would you describe your personal cooking style?
I love cooking. It’s a passion of mine. It’s like playing a Les Paul. If you are going to do it, you might as well do it right. My personal cooking style is to throw some beers back, get the best ingredients your market has to offer, and go ape shit.

That’s probably what Lemmy would do. What is the most metal way to grill?
Turn Slayer up really loud, throw the beers on ice, marinate, call friends to bring more beer to party, get the wood burning high and hot, drink more beer, throw flesh on grill (no veggies), eat till you can’t eat no more. Once you wake up from your food coma, drink beer until you completely pass out. Wake up and repeat.

What is the ultimate metal beverage and food pairing?
Stay true to the brew. Cooking and beer go hand and hand. I personally like a nice cheap American beer. Beers Up!

Will there be a sequel (and if so, can you stretch the rules to get a contribution from Mike Piazza)?
I would love to get Mike Piazza in the book. He is a metal fan and I am a massive METS fan. Its funny because in the thank you list for the book I gave everyone knick names. Like all of the bands did back in the day. All of my friends that are Yankee Fans … Well, lets just say they hate their nick names.

How about a book of cocktails?
If I wrote that book it would only be about beer and tequila.

§

Now, as advertised we have Max Calalera from Soulfly’s Brazilian Lemon Chicken. This chicken is probably only Brazilian in that Max is making it (but it is lemon-y). In this video filmed in Monument Valley he’s the one with the guitar with the Brazilian flag on it:

Brazilian Lemon Chicken

By Max Cavalera from Soulfly and Sepultura

Barbecuing outside with my favorite jams on the boombox …  When I go to the store, I always look for the fattest chicken drumsticks that I can find. The key is the fresh lemons. The flavor the BBQ chicken all they way through.

Ingredients:
Chicken
Grab about 6 lemons
Olive Oil
Garlic, minced
Fresh rosemary
BBQ sauce (home made or store bought)
Salt

It pains us to see Max using the gas grill here; we'd recommend charcoal, of course.

The main accompaniment is a big dash of maniacal metal. This is a must. While I am going through my CDs for something tantalizing, the chicken legs are soaking in a ziplock bag, along with olive oil, freshly squeezed lemons, and a bit of garlic.  Sometimes I throw fresh rosemary in. The longer the chicken soaks, the more juicy and tender it will be.

BBQ the chicken. I take the juice from the bag, and baste the legs while they are cooking. I use several additional fresh lemons that I squeeze over the chicken. I do this several times. I usually coat half the chicken in BBQ sauce.  Serve up with a lot of salt.

Pre-heat the grill to 400 degrees F. Take the chicken out of the bag and place on the heated grill. Take the juice from the bag and baste the legs while they are cooking. Squeeze additional lemons over the chicken. Do this several times. I usually coat half the chicken in BBQ Sauce. Sprinkle the salt and eat.