While the glittery, sexy vampire fad is slowly fading away, zombies are (almost) on their way out too. But anyone who’s ever read The Stand, or watched… Well anything really. The Walking Dead/Fear The Walking Dead/28 Days Later/28 Weeks Later/Zombieland/Night of the Living Dead/Dawn of the Dead/Day of the Dead/I Am Legend/etc. etc. etc., or even like Contagion/Outbreak/Mad Max or something like Armageddon/Independence Day/Deep Impact/The Day After Tomorrow. Well the list goes on and on. And I guaran-damn-tee you that everyone has a little voice in the back of their head telling them 1) They would certainly be a survivor/immune and 2) Plotting vaguely about how they’d survive and exactly what steps to take to go from middle class office worker to cold-blooded killer/survivalist/pioneer. (Loot the pharmacies, stock up on ammo, figure out The Rules of whatever post-apocalyptic world you end up in. Then rule as queen.)
I may have skipped a few steps, but – sure – I’ve thought about it. Not in a creepy sovereign citizen “let’s overthrow the government” kind of way. And not in a “let’s go on Survivor and win a million dollars” kind of way either. (For the record, I’m sure I’d kick ass on that show, but the TV executives would be dismayed to discover that, as I lose weight, start to tan, and get more attractive to the TV audience, I will also manage to sprout a Yosemite Sam mustache within minutes of docking the boat, vaguely resembling a gorilla by the final Tribal Council.) I will, however, be a valuable member of the new society, having some cheese-making experience, basic knowledge of canning/preserving, and now I’m going to add preserved meats to that list.
Today’s project is pork rillettes, which is your basic rustic French dish that’s something like a pate – slow cooked pork shoulder simmered in lard and flavorful herbs, then beaten to a paste and spread on crusty slices of bread. There is nothing not to like about that. Loosely (very loosely) following John Besh’s recipe from “My New Orleans”, here we have:
8-lb. Pork Butt (cut off the bone, into 2-inch chunks)
1 lb. fresh pork belly (cut into 1-inch chunks)
1 large yellow onion, diced
2 small cans of chicken broth (not pictured)
2 generous cups white wine
1 celery stalk
3 cloves of garlic, smashed well (not pictured because I’m forgetful today)
1 tablespoon dried thyme (fresh if you have it. I did not.)
1 tablespoon crushed red pepper flakes
1 stupid bay leaf
Salt and pepper – lots
1 lb. Lard
Lard? What’s wrong with you, Dishes? Who hurt you? Why do you go chasing after salt, fat, sugar, gluten, nitrates, nitrites, HFCS, and everything bad in the food world?
IDK. (Shrugs.)
Melt half the lard in a large pot or dutch oven over low heat. Add the onions, and let them cook very slowly, very gently, for about half an hour until they’re tender, translucent, and not at all browned.
Add everything else. Even the stupid bay leaf.
Let it simmer for hours and hours, until the pork falls apart when you poke it.
Now things get weird. Take the meat out piece by piece – discard the pork belly, since the fat won’t shred nicely. Put the pork chunks in a stand mixer with the paddles attachment and let it shred it up.
(*Sings* “It’s beginning to look a lot like catfood!”)
Slowly beat in two to three cups of the greasy, lardy broth. This includes any bits of onion left, but not the garlic or stupid bay leaf.
Now you have a large bowl of pale gray mush.
The upside is that it’s pretty damn delicious – it just tastes like pork mostly. Nothing fancy. It’s good on crackers or bread. It would make a great sandwich spread. But we have one more step to go, and that’s canning it. (Not actual boiling and/or pressure canning, but just sealing it up in jars.)
Mush it into jars, and melt the remaining lard.
When it’s melted but not too hot, carefully pour a thin layer on top of the jarred rillettes. When that cools completely repeat, making sure to get all the edges. Once it cools, you’re all set! Many jars of delicious rillettes that can live in your fridge for months, providing needed fat and protein while preserving meat that would go bad in days prepared differently.
But wait! There’s more! After three days, the rillettes… kind of grow? They push the tops off the jars and lard-broth starts oozing everywhere. Mr. Dishes kindly brings this to my attention, which is why there’s no lovely “Done!” picture. Instead of rustic French cuisine with which to gift my friends and family, I have a weird, very bad smell in my house.
(Heaves big sigh.)
Everything goes into the trashcan, then immediately gets double-bagged and taken outside. Not only does this not lock in my coronation as Queen of Zombieville, USA there’s an excellent chance I’ve made some sort of zombie bait, or pheromone. I’m even pretty sure that if I fed this to people, it would actually cause the zombie virus. Mr. Dishes and I, along with my friends C&C Music Factory (not their real names) enjoyed some fresh rillettes the day I made them and so far none of us have shown any craving for brains, but better safe than sorry.
illdothedisheslater 