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By pigwhisperer, December 27, 2009

Caul fat is a membrane of fat that encloses a pig’s intestines. Fat, unfortunately, has a bad reputation these days. We tend to think of it as greasy, unnecessary, or harmful. We might not think of fat as being beautiful, but caul fat is just that. It looks like lace. It is blindingly white and not at all oily.

In Jennifer McLagen’s book “Fat: An appreciation of a misunderstood ingredient, with recipes,” the author argues that, if used properly, really good animal fat gives food incredible flavors. About pork fat, she writes that, depending on the breed of pig and their diet, “pork fat is mostly monounsaturated in the form of oleic fatty acid, plus it contains palmitoleic fatty acid, which has antimicrobial properties…Pork fat’s low levels of polyunsaturtaed fatty acids means it doesn’t turn rancid easily and is very stable when heated.”

Caul fat turns a lovely golden brown when cooked and is indicated for wrapping around lean cuts of meat. So, when baking our Christmas turkey, I decided to try something new—in order to keep the breast meat tender, why not cover the bird in caul fat before slipping it in the oven? (We just happen to have an excess of caul fat around here from our pigs.) I draped that lacy membrane over the bird, and the results were incredible! The fat melted to a thin, crispy webbing. The breast was extremely tender and juicy. Caul fat is my new best friend.

Here’s the turkey recipe. I’m not specific with amounts because it really depends on the size of your bird. You can ask a local butcher to get you some caul fat, especially if you live in Chicago and have access to places like the Paulina Meat Market.

In a small bowl, combine the following:
Minced garlic
Kosher salt (not too much, because the fat will add some saltiness)
Fresh rosemary
Black pepper
Lime/lemon/orange zest (again, not too much)
2 bay leaves

Rub the bird with lemon juice and olive oil. Give her a good Swedish massage. Then apply the garlic-spice rub over and under the skin. Slide the bay leaves under the breast skin; when the bird cooks and its skin becomes transparent, the leaves look very pretty underneath. Let the bird sit, unstuffed, in the fridge over night. The next day, let the bird get nearly to room temperature (so you’re not putting it in the oven ice-cold.) Stuff the bird if you like. Give the bird a generous coating of honey or maple syrup. Soak the caul fat in lukewarm water to loosen it. Stretch it out carefully, place it on a towel, and pat dry. Drape your bird with the caul fat. (I had to carefully cut my piece of caul fat in half, because it was enormous.) Then place the bird in a roasting pan with a rack, and cover in aluminum foil. Cook depending on the turkey’s weight. In the last 30-or-so minutes, take off the aluminum foil, brush on some more honey/maple syrup, and let it get nice and golden.

If anyone actually tries this recipe, let me know how you like it. I’ll be making it again next year for sure.

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By pigwhisperer, December 22, 2009

Cicadas are the loudest singing insects in the world. The most famous cicadas are the seventeen-year variety, but there are 200 different types of cicada. Here on the farm we are overrun by cicadas every summer. (That’s right, it’s summer here.) Male cicadas have “timbals” on each side of their abdomens. These timbals are basically muscles that contract and release, clicking each time. The male cicada’s abdomen is fairly hollow, and serves as a kind of echo chamber. He contracts and expands his timbals so quickly that these clicks become one long, loud hum. It’s really a mating call. (Hey, sweetheart, listen to my timbals.) The call sounds like the buzz you might hear walking under some high-voltage power lines. Most days, the male cicadas sing in unison and the noise makes my eardrums vibrate. They like to start their courtship rituals early, too. They sing at 4 AM (thousands of vibrating timbals make for an interesting wake-up call), noon, and again at dusk.

So, in the summer months, the men sing and attract some ladies. The ladies get pregnant, cut slits into the bark of a tree, and lay their eggs. When the eggs hatch the baby cicadas (or nymphs) fall to the ground and burrow under the dirt. They spend most of their lives underground, feeding off roots. When they reach adulthood, they dig themselves out of the dirt, shed their baby carapaces, and become male and female adults, ready to sing and to listen.

The dogs here like to eat cicadas. Apparently they are high in protein. I’ve been told that, crispy fried, cicadas are pretty tasty.

Here’s a cool video of a cicada molting into an adult.

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By pigwhisperer, December 14, 2009

Soneto de Fidelidade
de Vinícius de Morais

E tudo, ao meu amor serei atento
Antes, e com tal zelo, e sempre, e tanto
Que mesmo em face do maior encanto
Dele se encante mais meus pensamentos
Quero vivê-lo em cada vão momento
E em seu louvor hei de espalhar meu canto
E rir meu riso e derramar meu pranto
Ao seu pesar ou seu contentamento
E assim quando mais tarde me procure
Quem sabe a morte, angústia de quem vive
Quem sabe a solidão, fim de quem ama
Eu possa me dizer do amor (que tive)
Que não seja imortal, posto que é chama
Mas que seja infinito enquanto dure

Sonnet of Fidelity
by Vinícius de Morais

Above all, to my love I’ll be attentive
First and always, with care and so much
That even when facing the greatest enchantment
By love be more enchanted my thoughts.

I want to live it through in each vain moment
And in its honor I’ll spread my song
And laugh my laughter and cry my tears
When you are sad or when you are content.

And thus, when later comes looking for me
Who knows, the death, anxiety of the living,
Who knows, the loneliness, end of all lovers

I’ll be able to say to myself of the love (I had):
Be not immortal, since it is flame
But be infinite while it lasts.

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By pigwhisperer, December 11, 2009

10/12/2009
O video da entrevista na GloboNews, feito por jornalista Claufe Rodrigues.
(For all of my English-speaking friends out there: Here’s a video of an interview with Globo News–a Brazilian TV network–for their weekly program, Espaço Aberto Literatura.)
Aqui está o link. Just in case, here’s the link.

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By pigwhisperer, December 10, 2009

Espaço Aberto Literatura, um programa da Globo News, me entrevistou aqui na fazenda. O programa de 23 minutos estreia hoje!

Estreia: *Quinta-feira, 10/12, 21h30min

Reprises: *Sexta-feira 01h30min / *Sexta-feira 08h30min / *Sexta-feira 16h30min / Sábado 08h30min / Sábado 16h30min / Domingo 06h05min / Quarta-feira 05h05min

Lembrando que o programa fica disponível no site da Globo News após a primeira exibição. (Claro que vou tentar colocar o video no blog!)

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By pigwhisperer, December 9, 2009

Dear friends,

Something troubling has been brought to my attention. I’ve decided to include it in the blog so that all of those quietly suffering from the same affliction can find camaraderie and seek help.

There’s someone on the farm, someone very close to me, with a serious dilemma. I’m keeping her identity secret in order to preserve her dignity. Let’s call her “Long Zipper.” Long Zipper used to consider herself fashionable. She used to take a certain amount of pride in her appearance. But who needs fashion on a farm? When you are covered in mud, dog slobber, pig slobber, goat slobber, and every other kind of slobber, who really notices a cute pair of leggings? And you certainly can’t hike in ballet flats. (At least not every day.) So, over time, you (Long Zipper) begin to lower your standards of what is an acceptable way of dressing yourself. A shirt covered in blood stains is considered work wear. Pleated-front khakis two sizes too large that a random guest left in your house five years ago become your “comfortable” pants. Anything clean becomes your “going-out outfit.” It’s a slippery slope.

We’ve come to the crux of our problem: pants. (See Exhibit A below.)

Many of Long Zipper’s jeans button at chest height. One pair (Exhibit A) is peg-legged, and has the words “Pepe, London” embroidered on their back pocket. Who is Pepe? Why did he have his jeans embroidered in the UK? Where did Long Zipper acquire Pepe’s pants? It was a long and sordid road though the 1990’s. We’ll leave it at that.

Please send words of encouragement to Long Zipper, who is reluctant to let go of her pants. Please tell her to burn them, to liberate her belly button. With your help, we will find a solution.

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By pigwhisperer, December 1, 2009

It’s been a long road for our coffee beans. Now they head into the final phase of their lives: the roasting process. Like cooking, coffee roasting is an art and a science. Here I am beside our brand new “little red roaster” from Ambex. Terry Davis, master roaster and Ambex owner, visited the farm to give us a few roasting lessons. Here’s what we learned.

The Science
Roasting is applying heat to a dry coffee bean in order to alter its chemical composition. Dry or “green” coffee beans drop into the roasting machine, which is basically a drum with heat flowing underneath it. Air also flows through the roaster. Many master coffee roasters say it’s not heat but air flow—which moves heat through the drum and around the beans—that cooks the coffee. After a few minutes in the roaster, green coffee beans become yellow. Beans begin to smell like popcorn or bread baking. The coffee is going through an endothermic reaction: beans are sucking in heat, and this heat is changing them. Early in the roasting process, you’ll hear a popping sound. This is called the “first crack.” No worries, the beans aren’t going crazy; they won’t need Xanex. They are expanding in size, losing water, and turning light brown. Pyrolysis is happening. (Pyrolysis should happen any time you cook anything.) This is a Greek word that means that elements (CO2, water, etc) are being released, good flavors are formed, and bitter compounds and toxins are destroyed. Also, sugars in the coffee beans begin to caramelize, which means the beans get sweeter.

Towards the end of a roast, beans also get darker. Another crack happens, and this time the beans become exothermic. Each bean is now releasing energy (heat) instead of sucking it up. Explosions do this. Apparently, so does coffee as it roasts. When you hear the second crack (and you can hear the loud popping noise even while the roaster is running) it means the chemical process is entering an important yet precarious stage. Beans start to release oils, but they also start to carbonize. If you’re not careful, you’ll have the perfect ingredients (oils + heat + organic matter) for a drum fire. This is why a good roaster never leaves her machine while it’s running. Does this mean that leaving beans in the drum past the second crack is bad? How long should coffee roast? This is where science ends and art begins.

The Art
How much heat should you give your beans? For how long? And how much air flow should the drum have? Like any art, roasting has no fixed rules. (Other than staying beside your roaster while it runs, of course!) Roasting relies on the senses. You have to smell the beans, look at their color, listen for the first and second cracks, and then taste each batch of coffee when it’s done. Every coffee is unique. Beans from higher altitudes are generally denser. Lower attitude beans are softer. Older beans are often drier than younger ones. Some beans have a lot of chaff, or bits of papery skin on them. All of these characteristics affect the roast. Even beans from the same farm but from different harvest years can vary in flavor. Bags from the very same harvest can also vary subtly. Every crop of beans has a roast profile (or recipe) that brings out its best flavor. It’s up to the roaster to find that optimum roast and recreate it. And a roast can’t just be good once. The profile, or recipe, must have continuity for that particular batch of coffee—you have to be able to recreate your best batches again and again. A lot of roasting depends on taking really detailed notes while you roast, and then tasting the coffee after it’s been roasted.

What does coffee tasting involve? What flavors should a good roaster look for? I’ll cover this in my next post. This post is getting long; in roaster’s terms, we’ve reached the second crack. So I’ll stop this batch while it’s still palatable.

Thanks for reading!
Frances