Pork

Scrapple: It’s What’s For Breakfast…

Meet my new favorite breakfast treat. Sorry, SPAM… (But you’ll always be my first!)

Now, I admit I was slow coming around to Scrapple. I first noticed it in the chilled meat section alongside bacon, ham and sausages, when we first lived on the East Coast 10 years ago. The commercial variety did not look very appetizing in its vacuum-sealed package — kind of gray and stodgy. I took it for an evolutionary relative of SPAM — a colonial-era processed meat product. And since I was already a SPAM aficionado, I figured I did not need another processed meat product in my life. And so for the 2 years we lived near Boston, we never touched the stuff.

After we returned to the East Coast a couple of years ago, we attended a festival in Pennsylvania where the local Lions Club was selling fresh local bacon and sausage. And Scrapple, made right on site. The sight of the large vats of corn mush were enough to draw me in, but the heavenly aroma of spice and pork decided it for me — we had to try the Scrapple.

But what exactly is Scrapple? Well as you can see from the photo on the left, my earlier assumption about scrapple was wrong — it’s not a processed meat product at all, but rather a cornmeal mush mixed with heavily seasoned pork broth made with the offal from hog butchering (“everything but the oink”). The culinary ancestor of SPAM actually may be something that’s called “Country Pudding” around here — a loaf of seasoned pork bits strained from the offal broth, with little or no starch filler. So Pudding is the loaf-shaped pork bits, and Scrapple the pork-flavored corn mush (think “polenta”). What’s not to like?! And one can feel a little better about choosing Scrapple over SPAM (well, I do anyway) since it has half the amount of sodium (369mg vs. 767mg) and half the “calories from fat” (70mg vs. 137mg) than its more famous cousin.

Where did it come from? Apparently Scrapple originated with the German immigrants who settled this area in the late 17th and early 18th centuries and became known as the Pennsylvania Dutch (probably a corruption of the word Deutsch). You can also find scrapple sold as “Pon Haus,” a derivation of Panhas, a meat and meal (usually flour and buckwheat, but sometimes rye) terrine or fresh Wurst that is a specialty of the Westphalia and Rhine regions of Germany. You can see from the German Wikipedia link that Panhas doesn’t look much like Scrapple!

I pan-fry Scrapple the same way I do SPAM — browned well and crispy on the outside and creamy/juicy on the inside. With warm apple slices and soft scrambled eggs, it’s a hearty, lick-your-plate-clean brunch with or without the maple syrup. I recommend “with”…

If you’re not at a festival or hog butchering where it is freshly made, your next best bet is to try Scrapple from a local butcher. This one is sold by the slice as Pon Haus from Hoffman’s Quality Meats in nearby Hagerstown, MD, but is available at area grocery stores too. This came from Giant Eagle.

Want a bite?

Loroco Cream Sauce

Loroco (Fernaldia pandurata). As piquant as capers but not pickled, and with the full earthiness of an artichoke, these buds of a flowering vine are native to Central America and are used as a flavoring agent or vegetable in many popular dishes of the region.

We were introduced to Lorocos soon after our arrival to the D.C. area in 2008. Of course, it was at one of the many Salvadoran pupuseria that can be found in Maryland’s metro area near D.C. This one was across from the hotel to which we had encamped while we hunted for rental housing. We were there for a month. We ate a lot of pupusas. (For the uninitiated, pupusas are thick cornmeal tortillas with a filling of beans or cheese or meat or lorocos, or some combination of these, and often served with pickled cabbage and carrot salad, see photo left, the pupusas are the flat discs on either side of hte salad). But I digress. One of the more popular pupusa fillings is cheese and lorocos, and not having any idea what lorocos were as we pondered our first pupusa menu, we had to try them first. The woman taking our order told us loroco was a flower — great, we like edible flowers!

Truthfully, there almost was not a second order. On first bite, T and I looked at each other with that look, “Do you like it?” Uhhhh, not sure. In addition to the sheer vegetal quality of the flower buds, there was also the surprising tanginess, then a slight bitter aftertaste. But we eat lots of bitter vegetables, so onto the second bite. Now that we were over the shock of first taste, we had time to focus on how the sharp lorocos blended with the creamy blandness of the cheese. Mmmmmm, nice counterpoint. By the time we had finished the first pupusa, we were hooked — pupusa con queso y lorocos became our favorite order and the standard by which we evaluated new pupuseria we visited.

We find lorocos most often in the frozen section of Hispanic groceries and even many Asian markets (H-Mart, Korean Korner, Lotte Plaza in the metro DC area) that also serve large Central American communities. I’ve also seen large jars of pickled loroco buds but have not tried these since we prefer the frozen buds, which have only one ingredient: lorocos. The first loroco recipe we tried at home was for a soup of beans and lorocos, which proved to be equally addictive — we’ve made it at least 3 times and which I promise to post that as soon as I remember to take a photo before we finish off the whole pot.

More recently, we read about a lorocos cream sauce with chicken that we could not pass up. Since we had all the ingredients on hand except chicken (yes, we had lorocos but no chicken, go figure), I substituted pork chops for the chicken legs. Another show-stopper — lick-your-plate-and-try-to-steal-your-spouse’s tasty! The sharpness and bitterness that are hallmarks of loroco in pupusas and the bean soup are completely missing here. Instead the buds mellow into a flavor more reminiscent of asparagus. I guess they even look a little like tiny asparagus in the sauce, don’t they? But there is also an earthier undertone than asparagus alone would lend to this sauce that just says, More, please! I’ll be buying frozen lorocos buds in multiple quantities to keep in the freezer from here on out. And yes, I should probably pick up some chicken too!

This recipe is adapted from one shared by Anne at Rainforest Recipes, who lives and works with the Ix-Canaan projectin Guatemala. Finding her site set me off on of those long digressions for which the Interwebs is so infamous to learn about the Ix-Canaan project and their efforts to introduce sustainable agriculture and the preservation of indigenous culture to their corner of Guatemala. Now I’m looking for breadnut flour too… Anne has a photo of the fresh loroco flowers on her recipe page if you’d like to see how pretty those are (follow her link). Don’t recall seeing fresh loroco buds here, but I haven’t frequented Hispanic markets very much in the past. This spring, though, I will keep my eye out for these.

UPDATE (02/16/2011): We craved this sauce again, and tried it with mahi-mahi fillets (above). Still delicious, but would recommend including 1 tsp. fish sauce when adding broth to increase the umami in the finished sauce. Pork and chicken have more natural umami than this firm, white-flesh fish and the sauce needs the boost.

LOROCO CREAM SAUCE (WITH PORK)
Adapted from Anne’s recipe
Serves 3-4 persons

Apparently in Guatemala the traditional meat for this sauce is chicken (4 legs or a whole chicken, cut up) and we will give that a try soon, but we will also be saucing fish (cod or mahi mahi) and maybe even rabbit with this, too! I would recommend 2 lbs of mushrooms and doubling the quantity of potato as a vegetarian option that would complement and absorb the unique flavors of this sauce.

4 medium-cut pork chops
sea salt and black pepper
2 TBL olive oil
1 large onion, diced
3-4 cloves garlic, minced
1½ cup broth or water, divided
1 tomato, diced
1 sprig fresh thyme, or ¼ tsp dried
2 bay leaves
1½ cup broth or water
1 package frozen lorocos = 6oz or 170g
2 medium potatoes, peeled and diced
¾ cup heavy cream

Pat dry chops, and season well. Over medium high heat, warm oil in a skillet large enough to hold all ingredients. Brown both sides of each chop, about 3-4 minutes per side. Remove and keep aside.

Reduce heat to medium low. In remaining oil in pan, add onion and garlic and cook for 5 minutes. Add tomato, thyme and bay leaves, and continue cooking until onions become translucent, another 4-6 minutes.

Add broth, and gently scrape up any browned bits on the bottom of the skillet. Add loroco buds, potatoes, and return pork chops to skillet. Cover and simmer gently 10-15 minutes.

(I found it easier to blend the cream into the sauce if I removed the chops before adding the cream, but this step is optional.) Add cream to skillet and stir through to combine, cover and simmer another 5-10 minutes or until the chops are cooked through.

Serve over white rice, with plenty of napkins!

Ham with Guava Glaze

Our Christmas Day tradition includes a gift for the cook (me!): no cooking all day. Our celebration meal has migrated to Christmas Eve, so for Christmas Day we have cold meats, salads, breads, pickles and cheese prepared in advance to be nibbled on at a leisurely pace through the day. This year the centerpiece was a guava-glazed ham.

Last year we brought home a commercially prepared honey sweet ham, which was wonderful but pretty pricey. This year I wanted to try baking a bone-in ham at home — something I’ve never done before. (We definitely wanted that bone, of course, to make a soup later! )

The idea of making a guava-flavored glaze has been percolating in my brain for a while, the result of picking up a tub of guava puree at the supermarket last fall. A fellow shopper saw me pondering the tub and volunteered several ideas for how to use the paste — all of which involved pastries or other sweets. I asked if she ever used the paste in a savory dish and she said no. Hmmmm, that sounded like a challenge…

Guava is an aromatic fruit, with a green or yellow rind and seedy pink or white pulp. It is one of my favorite fruit flavors, and was always one of the syrup flavors I usually chose for shave ice or pancakes when we lived in Hawaii (sigh). We also used to find tiny strawberry guavas in early summer on one of our favorite hikes through Oahu. Surely it’s this yearning for tropical breezes and warmth as our area has been deluged with rain and snow and more rain for the last couple of months that spurred this idea to coat a large pork product in tropical guava sweetness!

And it works! We actually tried the glaze first with a pork loin roast — it was lovely, but the tangy sweet glaze really needed meat with some fat to highlight it. Next we tried wild salmon filets, brushing the glaze on the top of the filet at the last minute. That was better — the acidic sweetness cut through, then melted into the rich oils of the fish. But the ham was by far the best showcase for this fruity basting sauce.

Guava paste is a dense concentrated fruit puree, sweetened with cane sugar but not as sweet or loose as a jam or jelly. It is thick enough to be sliced or diced and has an incredibly intense guava flavor (at least the Goya brand does). Look for it in shelf-stable tubs or tins (21 oz) or vacuum packed squares ( XX oz) in markets specializing in Latin American foods, or in supermarket aisles (non-refrigerated) designated for products from the Caribbean or Latin America.

HAM WITH GUAVA GLAZE

Guava Basting Sauce:
Enough for one 10 lb. ham + 4 salmon filets or a 4 lb. pork roast

1 tub (21oz/590g) guava paste
1/4 cup/60ml water
1/2 cup/120ml white wine vinegar
1/2 tsp sea salt
3 TBL dijon-style mustard

Cut guava paste into 8 -10 rough pieces and add to 2 qt/L saucepan with water, and warm over medium heat. As paste begins to melt, stir well to loosen with water. Add vinegar, salt and mustard, and stir well. Simmer for 20 minutes or until the vinegar smell is no longer acrid but blends with the fruit. Cool, and keep refrigerated until needed. Makes about 3 cups Basting Sauce.

To Finish the Ham:
1 large yellow onion, thickly sliced
2 bay leaves
1 large carrot, peeled and sliced in 1/2” rounds
1 9.5lb (4.3kg) ham with bone or larger
2 cups/ 470ml water
2 cups/470ml Guava Basting Sauce, above
(optional) 2 TBL rum, tequila or bourbon

Calculate total baking time for the ham to reach an internal temperature of 160F. We used a smoked ham with a bone that required 17-20 minutes of baking for every pound. It was a 9.5 lb. ham, so we were looking at a total time of about 2 hours and 40 minutes to 3 hours. But don’t rely just on this approximate baking time — it is important to use a meat thermometer inserted into the thickest part of the ham to take its temperature and make certain it reaches the critical temperature of 160F to ensure it is fully cooked.

(9.5lb ham) x (17-20 minutes/lb) = 160 min (2hrs 40min.) to 190 min (3hrs. 10min)

Place onion, carrot and bay leaves in a roasting pan just large enough to accommodate the ham joint with the thick end down.

If desired, add rum, tequila or bourbon to Basting Sauce and warm in microwave or over low heat on the stove. Reserve half of Sauce to serve with ham.

Rinse and pat dry ham. Score fat around the joint. Place ham, cut side down over onions, cover with wax paper or parchment, then with foil. Put roasting pan in the lower middle of the oven, and heat oven to 375F. Roast ham (unglazed) for 40 minutes.

Turn heat down to 325F. Remove ham from oven and take off foil (keep foil to tent ham again while it rests). Baste ham all over with remaining Guava Sauce, and return pan to oven for 20 minutes. Baste again and return to oven. Repeat every 20 minutes until a meat thermometer inserted in the thickest part of the ham reaches an internal temperature of 160F. About 40 minutes before your calculated ending time, start checking the ham’s temperature when you baste to gauge how the baking is proceeding and adjust as necessary.

Once proper internal temperature is reached, take pan from oven, and loosely cover ham with foil again. Allow ham to rest for 20 minutes before removing joint for slicing.

Remove meat from bone and freeze bone for soup later.

We had this for breakfast with beet-pickled eggs and breads, and later for dinner with mashed sweet potatoes, extra Guava Sauce, slow-cooked collard greens and corn bread.

To Use Guava Sauce with Pork Loin Roast:

1 cup/240ml Guava Basting Sauce, above
2 TBL. white wine, water, rum or tequila

Combine Sauce and liquid, and warm in microwave or over low heat. Reserve 1/2 cup for serving.

Pre-heat oven to 400F.

Score fat around roast, and rub in sea salt and pepper.

In large skillet, heat oil just to smoking point, then add roast with fat side down. Brown well on all sides.

Lay roast in oiled oven-safe pan just large enough to hold the roast. Baste with guava glaze and place in the middle rack in oven. Roast for 20 minutes. Turn oven temperature down to 350F.

Remove roast, and baste again. Return to oven, and repeat basting every 15 minutes until a meat thermometer inserted into the center of the roast reaches an internal temperature of 170F (about 20-30 min/lb.) — for our 3.5lb. roast, this took about 1 hr. and 45 min. total roasting time.

Cover roast and allow to rest for at least 15 minutes before slicing.

We enjoyed this with long grain rice topped with seasoned garbanzo beans (Goya brand preseasoned) and fresh cilantro. Reserved Sauce on the side.

Okinawan Pig’s Feet Soup (Ashitibichi)

Here’s a soup that may not be for everyone. Ashitibichi (AHSH-teh-BEE-chee), or Okinawan Pig’s Feet Soup, definitely warms the bones as the weather gets cooler. Having said that, I’m reminded that ashitibichi is also one of the most popular offerings at Honolulu’s annual Okinawan Heritage Festival, and it’s not exactly cool on Oahu, even in September when the Festival is usually held. I guess this is for the hard-core pork lovers! *Guilty!*

In ashitibichi, whole or sliced pig’s feet, or trotters, are simmered with ginger to produce an incredibly savory and gelationous broth. Large cut vegetables are added to create a final dish that is more a stew than soup from a Western point of view. Either way, you will either love it or you won’t even try it, depending on where you stand on the “odd meat-parts” divide of carnivorous dining. If you happen to fall on the other side of the divide, that’s okay — more for the rest of us! *smile*

This is a dish that my mother did not make at home when we were growing up. I’m not sure why, because she enjoyed eating it whenever she came across it, I just don’t remember seeing her make it. Ashitibichi is considerably more time-consuming to make than oden-style Kombu, so that may be one reason. For this recipe I had to consult my trusty, well-worn copy of “Okinawan Cookery and Culture” produced by the Okinawan women’s group of Hawaii called Hui O Laulima. (Here is another version prepared by Pomai at Tasty Island — he may not be Okinawan, but he’s a fan, too!)

As with many Okinawan specialties, ashitibichi features kombu, or kelp, as well as pork. The type of kombu needed for this dish is the long dried strips which may be labelled “nishime kombu,” “hayani kombu” or “ma kombu” — any one of these will work with this preparation. Preparing the kombu before it is added to the soup takes a bit of prep work and is not intuitive to anyone not accustomed to using kombu, so here’s a quick guideline.

PREPARING KOMBU KNOTS

First, soak the dried kombu in cold water, using a container large enough that you don’t have to bend the dried strips — bending the strips can cause them to snap and cut your kombu before you can knot it. Soak for 30-40 minutes, or until the strips become pliable. Don’t soak too long (2 or more hours) or the kombu will start to become mushy and unworkable.

Reserve 2 cups of the soaking water. (You can use excess kombu water as the foundation for a vegetarian stock or to cook dried beans — the kombu water is said to make the beans easier to digest, I haven’t tried this yet but will. I also water planted vegetables and shrubs with this mineral-rich water, if I don’t have an immediate use for it in the kitchen.)

Knot each strip of kombu 4-5 times, depending on the length of the vegetable. If you leave about 5 inches, or one fist-length (see photo above), between the knots, you will leave just enough room to cut between them and leave an adequate “tail” on either side of the knot. The kombu will continue to expand as it cooks and if you cut too close to the knot, it will unravel as the vegetable cooks and become an unattractive blob of seaweed. Beware the Blob — leave a tail on both sides of the knot!

ASHITIBICHI, OKINAWAN PIG’S FEET SOUP
(Mrs. Yukihide Kohatsu’s and Mrs. Fumiko Miyasato’s recipes in “Okinawan Cookery and Culture” were the starting points for this version, although the method is my own. Photo here is from the 2007 Okinawan Heritage Festival in Kapiolani Park, Oahu)

Begin at least one day before you plan to serve, since broth is cooled overnight.

For the Broth
3.5-4 lbs/1.6-1.8kg pig’s feet, whole or sliced lengthwise
2 large fingers of ginger, scrubbed well and sliced lengthwise (leave skin on)
Enough water to cover meat by 1-2 inches

Place meat and ginger in large (6 qt/L, or larger) crockpot. Set on HIGH setting for 2 hours. Skim top of broth to remove impurities as they rise to surface.

After 2 hours, set to LOW and allow to simmer for 5 hours for sliced feet, 6-7 hours for whole trotters. Meat should be tender and move around the joints easily.

Remove meat to separate container for cooling and storage. Discard ginger, and strain broth. Cool completely and store overnight separately from meat.

To Finish Soup:
2-3 strips of dried kombu strips, soaked and knotted (see Preparing Kombu, above)
2 cups reserved kombu soaking water above
2-3 TBL awamori or sake
1 medium daikon, peeled and cut crosswise into 2-inch thick slices
2 medium carrots, peeled and cut into 2-inch thick slices
8-10 dried shiitake mushrooms, rehydrated
1 packet dashinomoto, dried powdered fish stock
1-2 TBL sea salt
2 TBL soy sauce

If desired, remove fat layer from broth. Place broth in large soup pot or Dutch oven, and bring to hard boil over high heat. Add reserved kombu water and return to boil.

Add kombu knots, awamori or sake, and daikon, and bring to boil. Once broth is bubbling, lower heat to medium, cover, and simmer for 30 minutes. Add cooked meat, carrots, rehydrated shiitake, dashi packet, salt and soy sauce. Continue simmering for another 30-45 minutes.

Test kombu knots: if a pointed chopstick easily pierces the center of the knots, the soup is ready. If kombu is not ready, remove carrots and daikon if you don’t want these vegetables to get too mushy, and continue simmering additional 20-30 minutes. Different brands and grades of kombu will cook slower or faster, so cooking times will vary, and are dictated on when the kombu reaches the desired consistency. Consistency of the cooked kombu is also a matter of personal preference — texture can range from slightly firm (al dente) to meltingly tender. I prefer the latter, but that’s just me.

Serve in individual bowls, with a separate bowl of rice, pickles, and a dipping dish of grated ginger or hot mustard. Maa-san!

Happy Birthday, Mom…

More Okinawan dishes on this site:
Kombu, Rafute, Abura Miso, Yakisoba, Okayu with Yomogi

More dishes with Kelp and other Sea Vegetables:
Kombu, Hijiki no Nimono, Namasu, Crispy Nori-Wrapped Walu & Shrimp with Papaya Coulis, Curry-Glazed Cod with Wasabi-Sea Salad Soba, and Kajiki with Pomegranate Ogo