Even Brauts Like to be Grass-Fed

Who doesn't love a brautwurst every now and again? When I saw that my favorite grass-fed beef guy of Olsen Farms was selling them, I knew I must have some. They came already frozen which is great since I can race through all of the other perishables first and then pull them out of the freezer when the larder is empty. And that is exactly what I did the other night. But you can't have brauts without kraut, right? So first I picked up a lovely jar of very Jewish and very Brooklyn sauerkraut to go along with it. It felt a bit counterintuitive to accompany such a local ingredient with something made 3000 miles away, but hey, what the hell? It all made for a simple but delicious Monday night dinner.

Having previously praised both the philosophy and the flavor of grass-fed beef, I was eager to try how it tasted once it had been turned into something else altogether. Besides the selfish reasons of flavor and an easy dinner, I also felt like I was kind of doing my part. You know, for the team--for the environment. After all, if they didn't turn all of those beef scraps into sausage, what else would they do with them? Isn't this the original recycling? Anyway, my environmental conscience aside, the brauts were great. I seared them first and immediately noticed that they were missing any of the normal fat and grease oozing from within. The pan was completely dry and lacking any juices whatsoever. Was this a good thing? I wasn't sure. After I got sick of them smoking so much in the pan, I dumped in the strained sauerkraut and a touch of water, then covered the whole mess and let it cook until we were ready.

The missing juices didn't seem to have any negative affect on the flavor. I'm assuming then, that we were eating a much healthier braut than your average grocery store variety. It makes sense that the leaner grass-fed beef would produce a leaner, more healthy brautwurst. So that's good and all, but it actually tasted great as well. Full of flavor and spices with a firm but tender texture. Further proof that happy cows make happy food.
Another word on the kraut. Upon further reflection, I think that I have been incorrectly using the term "sauerkraut". The jar of Ba-Tampte brand that I bought at my local market is actually called "new kraut" and this enigmatic product seems to be a kosher mystery. Even the web-site is ridiculously vague, with nothing but images of their products! All we can figure is that "new kraut" is well, newer and has been aged less than traditional sauerkraut. Therefore, it is less sour and is more mild. We instinctively knew this when we were eating it, and we both commented on how it tasted a bit sweet and had less bite than normal. The texture was also more firm, with a more pronounced raw cabbage consistency. It wasn't until I looked at the jar later that I realized that these differences were on actually on purpose!

Washington White Truffles

Last November was the first time I had ventured into the world of Washington truffles. The results, if you remember my story (see Washington Truffles), were not so enjoyable. The little black nuggets were anything but inspiring, unless of course you are a worm and enjoy that dirt flavor thing. Anyway, despite my misgivings I was lured into trying another variety of Washington truffles from the market, the white ones this time. I tried to politely ask if they were more similar to the European kind (therefore implying that they were less like the dirt kind) which he assured me they were. They certainly weren't much to look at, with the largest one being about the size of my thumbnail, but still worth a try, right?

Shortly after returning home with my score I knew that they were indeed different from the aforementioned black truffles because my entire refrigerator suddenly smelled like truffles. It was amazing. Going with the simple is best theory again, I made home-made pasta which I adorned with nothing more than good olive oil, garlic, parmesan, salt and pepper. I heated the olive oil in a small pan into which I threw the thinly shaved pieces of truffles and let them fry for a few minutes before removing them. I then did the same with some thinly shaved garlic pieces and tossed it all together with the pasta. The truffles, as I had hoped, infused the oil with some of their unique flavor and the pasta turned out fantastic. The white truffles were a winner! So I guess I don't have to go to Europe for good fungus after all.

Mangalitsa

After nearly two months of a "winter break" from the market, I returned this past week with dubious expectations. Too cold for anything to grow, and certainly too cold for the poor vendors to stand outside for four hours, what would there be besides some squash and a few crazies? Turns out that the market is surprisingly full of life in January, or at least it was on this day. The main difference I noted from the fall market was the lack of produce stands (no big surprise there) which seem to have been replaced by meat. From my grass-fed beef guy to Loki salmon to the pig people on Vashon Island, I'd guess that nearly half of the stalls were selling some kind of meat. However, the biggest delight of all, and the longest line I might add, came from a stand claiming to sell Mangalitsa.

I know, I know, what the hell is Mangalitsa? Previously unheard of by you, me, and most of the Western world, Mangalitsa is a breed of pork more common in Europe. A new company from Eastern Washington called Wooly Pigs imported the breed from Austria, and they claim that they are the first purveyor of Mangalitsa in the New World. "MANGALITSA DEBUT!" proclaimed the sandwich board out front of their stand. Too overcome by curiosity to pass it up, I had to have some of my own to try. The owner (I assume) was incredibly exuberant about his new product. He implored every passer-by to try his product. "PLEASE, try the Mangalitsa! Yes, please! Try the Mangalitsa!"as he cooked up samples of his ground pork. Of the choices (bacon, pork loin, etc.) I decided to go with the pork shoulder, thinking that that particular cut might offer us the most unadulterated taste of its purported unique flavor.

How to cook this expensive cut of pork was my next decision. "Cook Mangalitsa slow and low! Brining, slow roasting and braising work well. Grilling is risky!" read the flyer that came with my purchase. After further research at home, I found even more information on how dry and tough the meat can become if cooked like "normal" pork. It turns out that Mangalitsa, while having plenty of lovely, marbley fat throughout, has a different type of fat than the more modern breed of pig. The Mangalitsa fat is higher in unsaturated fats which, while of course being better for us, might also contribute to a dryer, tougher texture if not cooked properly. I finally decided that braising was my best bet for the "slow and low" approach to my hunk of pork shoulder (see more info on braising in My Quest for the Perfect Beef Short-Ribs). The cut I got had some bones, but not too many, so I just cut it into four manageable hunks, browned it, then partially submerged it in wine, stock, and veggies and cooked it at 225 degrees for several hours. The next night, I reheated it gently and then pulled the meat out of the pan and reduced the juices a bit. In an effort to keep it simple so as to allow the meat to shine, I served it with some Red Russian Kale, my favorite "spud nuts" (mini potatoes), and white beans.

After all of the talk about how different and amazing this meat was, I have to say that I had pretty high expectations. Expectations unfortunately, that it didn't quite meet. Don't get me wrong, the meat was incredible. Super tender, juicy, and full of flavor. And while it did have a slightly different flavor and reminded me of the boar I so loved eating while in Italy, the difference was very subtle. My husband said that he would have assumed it was beef it he hadn't known better. So it definitely was not your average pork taste, but was it worth the $25 a pound? When the Mangalitsa makes it to a market near you, I'll let you be the judge of that.