Posts Tagged ‘pork’

I met Kurt Beecher (you know him as the founder of Beecher’s Cheese) one hot afternoon amid a cluster of food bloggers, all eager to storm an armored truck shaped like a giant pig, parked at the corner of 2nd and Pike.  Maximus Minimus, the much anticipated pulled-pork sandwich truck, had opened the day before to mild fanfare, but it was about to be put through its paces and make some unpaid bloggers very happy in the process.

We met at Beecher’s in Pike Place late in the afternoon for a whirlwind tour of the factory.  In reality, we walked into the cheese making room in groups of five, stood in one spot and listened to the cheese maker give a well-rehearsed spiel about curds and whey.  I’m convinced this “tour” was a thinly veiled excuse to get us in hairnets again, but the air conditioned room was a nice respite from the melting heat outside.  Plus, a few cold, moist curd samples made an excellent hold-over snack.

After learning all there is to know about cheese making in 3.5 minutes, we gathered around Kurt as he unromantically recanted how Seattle’s best-known cheese came to be.  Kurt is an unassuming, unpretentious and energetic guy – like a soccer dad, or a wilderness park guide – and you wouldn’t know he was an artisanal food mogul just by looking at him (read: no whisk tattoos or chef’s jacket).  But he has built perhaps the most recognized and respected brands in Seattle, and Maximus Minimus, his brainchild born from a popular staff meal at Bennett’s, was poised to be a very clever piece of horizontal integration. 

The concept is simple: a big, iron-clad truck shaped like a pig that serves 2 varieties of everything – maximus for spicy and minimus for sweet.  Throw in some cold drinks, coleslaw, chips, and a vegetarian option so the carrot-huggers don’t file an injunction against public pork vending, and you’ve got great street food.

Kurt scurried us two blocks up to the unmistakable truck which sat heavily on the pavement.  By the time I arrived, the line of bloggers was already 20-deep, but moving steadily.  Over the din of the truck’s galley kitchen I could overhear two employees taking orders at the front of the line, describing and patiently re-describing the choice between maximus-spicy and minimus-sweet to the giddy pseudo-journalists who were all lucky enough to be getting served after business hours. 

When I got to the front, I opted for the minimus since I’m not much of a heat guy.  While I waited eagerly for my cardboard tray of food to emerge from the truck’s small window, I observed passers-by, one after another, stop and ask what the truck was.  I assume the were led to this corner by the caramel smell of braised pork wafting down the city blocks.  But when they arrived, they weren’t quite sure what to make of the big metal hog that looked like it came from another planet… or Freemont.  In stunned bewilderment they gathered, standing slack-jawed for a moment, then continuing on, feigning that this was really something they see every day. 

When my food emerged, it looked great.  In fact, it looked just as I expected, with the exception of the cheese.  Given that this was a Beecher’s venture, I assumed that my soft pork sandwich would be oozing with gooey cheese, like an Arby’s melt but made from actual animals instead of recycled volleyballs.  The only hint of cheese was a small sprinkling of white flakes, unmelted by the heat of the pork, and unnoticeable in any given bite.  Still, the sandwich was good – not orgasmic, tongue-tingling, I’ll-switch-religions-for-this good, but pretty solid.  The chips and slaw were a nice touch as well, though the two-handed tray made eating and drinking on the street a little cumbersome. 

The drinks were self-serve from two discreet taps sticking out the side of the truck.  I didn’t get to try the ginger lemonade, but the hibiscus nectar was unbelievable.  It had a strong, rich, floral flavor which I anticipated the moment I saw the iridescent magenta tea start pouring into my cup.  Had I been without a straw, I’m pretty sure it would have left a KoolAid-esque mustache above my upper lip.  The nectar was a great compliment to the salty tang of the sandwich, and would likely be just the right soothing antidote to the piquant maximus.  I guess I’ll have to go back for more.

Even though I won’t be making Maximus Minimus my new official barbecue Mecca, I’m still very glad for its arrival.  With the weight of the world on everyone’s shoulders these days, it’s nice to find a little levity during lunch hour.  And anyone who serves barbecued pork out of a hogified AirStream clearly cannot take himself that seriously.  I hope that street food, and indeed the trailer concept, continues to take hold in Seattle.  In high school, the closest thing we had to a cafeteria was the roach coach parked on the sidewalk during recess and lunch to peddle quesadillas and Horchata (I grew up in LA).  You knew it arrived by the distant sound of La Cucaracha and the smell of leftover animal bits being mangled into a burrito.  Even so, there is a special place in my heart reserved for 4-wheeled food.  May I cast my vote now for a bubble tea, salumi and wood-fired pizza van somewhere on the Microsoft campus?  Go trucks, go!

Full disclosure: I got free food, but that doesn’t pay for my opinion.

Any German can tell you that wurst and and cabbage go hand in hand.  Any Spaniard will say the same of chorizo and beans.  But it takes a special, international inclination to make the case for kielbasa with brussels sprouts, white beans and mustard.  I’ll tell you that it works wonderfully!  The saltiness of the pork combined with the bitter, gentle crunch of the brussels sprouts and mildness of the beans is well-balanced perfection.  Plus, its cheap, easy and looks good on a plate!

Makes: 4 Plates of European Unity
Total kitchen time: 30 mins

Shopping list:

• 1 medium shallot
• 4 large cloves garlic
• 1.5 lbs. brussels sprouts
• 1 lb. pork kielbasa
• 1 can white kidney beans
• 2 tbsp. coarse mustard
• 1/4 cup heavy cream
• ooks&fgbp

1. Peel the shallot and cut into quarters.  Make a small pouch out of aluminum foil (2 layers thick) and place inside the shallot and garlic.  Coat with olive oil and a generous pinch of salt.  Seal the pouch tightly and place in the oven (I recommend the toaster oven) at 400°F for 30 minutes. 
2. Rinse and pick clean the brussels sprouts.  Cut each sprout in half, discarding any wilted or fugly outer leaves.  Steam (or boil, your choice) the brussels sprouts until tender when pierced with a fork.  Set aside.
3. Rinse and drain the beans.  Honestly, 1 can is a little too bean-heavy.  You may want to save about 1/3 of the beans for something else.  I know, I’m telling you now after you’ve bought a whole can, as opposed to buying 2/3 of a can.
4. Slice the kielbasa on a steep bias into 1/4” slices.  Heat 1 tsp. of olive oil in a large, heavy bottomed non-nonstick skillet over medium high heat.  Arrange the kielbasa slices and fry until crispy on each side, about 3 minutes per side.  It’ll smell like bacon, confusing your dog.  Set aside (the kielbasa, not your dog) on paper towels to drain.
5. If your skillet is full of porky goodness, keep it there.  Add a generous tablespoon of good olive oil and keep the heat at medium high.  Unwrap the garlic and shallot and smash them using the flat side of your knife.  They should be very soft.  Add them to the skillet and cook for about 1 minute. 
6. Add the mustard and cream to the skillet and stir to combine.  Reduce the heat to medium low and add the brussels sprouts and beans (as many as you want to use).  Toss everything together to coat, then season to taste with a generous amount of salt and black pepper.
7. Plate the kielbasa on top of your brussels sprouts and beans in a large bowl to serve. 

If you’ve been hit hard by the recession, don’t worry – you can make this recipe without the brussels sprouts or the beans (choose one).  There, I just saved you like $1.50.  Maybe I should invite Suze Orman over for dinner!

 
In my ongoing quest of creating great dishes that use loose tea as a key ingredient, I’ve come up with some killer pork chops.  This recipe uses Apricot Peach Fruit Tea from the Portsmouth Tea Company to create an in-pan glaze that was born to love tender, juicy pork.  Too bad this tea is decaf – I’d sprinkle it over my bacon as a pick-me-up breakfast any day. 

Makes: 2 sweet chops
Total kitchen time: 15 minutes

Shopping List:

• 2 boneless pork chops, trimmed
• 2 tbsp. Apricot Peach Fruit Tea
• kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper, to taste

1. Pat the pork chops dry on both sides.  Salt and pepper the chops on all sides.
2. Coat the pork chops on both sides with the loose tea.  Press the tea into the skin of the chops until it sticks. 
3. Place the pork chops on a room-temperature skillet (not nonstick) with at least 1” of space between them.  Cover the skillet with a  lid and place it over medium heat. 
4. After 6-7 minutes or so, the fist side should be nicely browned.  Flip the chops and cook, covered, another 5 minutes or so or until cooked through. 
5. By this time, a thick, sweet glaze has developed in your skillet.  Plate the pork chops and top with a heaping spoonful of the pan glaze.