cured

one man's journey into the salted and marbled world of keep-to-eat meats

I currently live in New York City after having lived in Los Angeles. That said, I am not the type of New Yorker who goes on and on, acting all superior and criticizing Angelino culture (or a lackthereof). That also said, I will never purchase an Italian sub in Los Angeles again.

The glaring difference came when I compared the Italian from Bay Cities Italian Market in Santa Monica (top) with a similar sandwich from a deli called Sunny and Annie’s in Alphabet City (bottom).

My buddy had told me Bay Cities is awesome, so we went while I was visiting. The bun was soft and delicious, but I was alarmed to see that it came with mayo and yellow mustard standard. Also, the meat was Boar’s Head, which is fine, but not what I would expect from a place being touted as an Italian specialty market of high regard. Meanwhile, the Sunny and Annie’s sandwich had freshly sliced ham and salami and a mix of watercress, tomato and red onion in balsamic. It ruled. Mind you, Sunny and Annie’s is basically a bodega with a tiny sandwich counter.

Perhaps this goes without saying, but Los Angeles is superior when it comes to Mexican food and burgers. Subs remain to the domain of the Big Apple.

Claudio’s is one of my favorite spots in Philadelphia. This Italian market is better known for their cheese than meat, but that didn’t dissuade me from picking up a spicy dry salami last time I was in town.

It only took a couple bites to recognize that this sausage might be better than the best pepperoni I’ve ever had. It made me want to go back in time and replace all the greasy, fatty, orange-dripping slices I’ve had before with crumbles from this stick of goodness. And, yes, that is what I would do with my time machine.

bendelaney:

Real Food is Beautiful. Meat Edition.

Charcuterie by Jeremy Hansen of Santé.

Danica, a close friend of Cured, hit up the Huckleberry Bar in Brooklyn last night and engaged in a tete-a-tete with this board of beauty. What you’re seeing here is petit jesu (Baby Jesus) on the left, napolitana in the middle, and bresaola on the right. Danica said the spread was delicious, but noted that despite its divine name, the Baby Jesus simply tasted like a standard salami. Her disappointment is understandable. Any of us would expect a transcendent experience from a salami named after a holy figure.

Danica, a close friend of Cured, hit up the Huckleberry Bar in Brooklyn last night and engaged in a tete-a-tete with this board of beauty. What you’re seeing here is petit jesu (Baby Jesus) on the left, napolitana in the middle, and bresaola on the right.

Danica said the spread was delicious, but noted that despite its divine name, the Baby Jesus simply tasted like a standard salami. Her disappointment is understandable. Any of us would expect a transcendent experience from a salami named after a holy figure.

This Landjager is somewhat greasy, but if you can get beyond that, it has a peppery flavor and soft texture that would pair well with an extra sharp cheddar. This German salami is a picture of marbling with a mixture that leans much more toward the meaty than the fatty.

I was gifted this Bavarian beauty from my sister for my birthday. She also gave me some undershirts and a pack of the type of socks that are employed to construct sock monkeys. They’re called Rockford Red Heels, in case you’re looking to grab a pair.

thepigandwhistle:

And that, my friends, is how you put together a charcuterie board for a fun dinner.

The peperone and Spanish chorizo are house cured, the rest we had to pick up from the experts - acorn fed Iberian piggy prosciutto and lonzino, finocchiona, roasted veal shank marrow, super sharp three year aged cheddar, maytag blue, Beecher from Seattle, dried apricots and plums, toasted walnuts, local New Mexico honey, fuji apple, pepperoncini, and of course some grilled bread for transport.  The wonderful compound butter was courtesy of Tiffany @ cookiesforlater.

It was a hefty board of salted pig parts, and it was amazing. 

In other news, we began curing some belly for slab bacon and pancetta today.  We’re also tackling the beginning stages of duck prosciutto tomorrow and drying out some beef jerky for our trip to Vail in about two weeks.  Pics on all that later. 

Dig it.

It can be daunting to select charcute from the case at the deli. You’ve got to trust the deli. Do you trust the deli?

I did when I recently took a chance with Vantia prosciutto at the Garden of Eden grocery near my apartment. Great success. The goods had just the right amount of fat and a smooth, not-too-salty finish.

It coupled well with olives in the afternoon, but I also ate some late at night when I came home intoxicated. It’s one of those prosciuttos that works with your schedule.

On another one of my Chi-town outings, I hit up Bar Toma. I only had a draft Schlitz on my first stop in, which I didn’t even realize was still being manufactured. It is and it is still cheap-beer delicious. That is totally off topic for Cured, but valuable information nonetheless.

I returned to Bar Toma the next day to get a bite before heading to the airport. It was a pizza recommended by the bartender topped with rapini, mozzarella, chiles, and the most crispy, thin guanciale known to man (that man being me).

This pizza is called the Mantuano after Tony Mantuano, the chef and proprietor of the establishment. He clearly selected the right pie to slap his name on. If you order it, I suggest pairing it with a Schlitz.