The Last Supper

Well, this is it. My last blog post before I embark on this journey called going to college and being an adult(-ish). It’s a new chapter in my life, and I have no clue what it will hold. But on some level, I hope it includes journalism. If you haven’t figured it out by now, I greatly enjoy sharing my (often strong) opinions, especially to a captive audience. For example, about an hour ago I tried to give my family a lecture about different types of American land surveying (ex: metes & bounds, long lot, etc) and their roots in early colonialism. They didn’t seem that into it to be honest. At any rate, my journalistic future may be food-related. Or it may not be. As you know, I also have a lot of strong opinions about politics, music, and more. But for now, let’s get into it.

For this farewell post, I wanted to prepare something new. Exciting. Innovative. Something that would capture the hearts and minds of you all. So I decided to make a porchetta. For those who have never heard of porchetta, it’s a long flat piece of pork that is wrapped up like a cinnamon roll, stuffed with herbs and spices, and roasted.

To make super-traditional porchetta, one must procure a very specific cut of meat: a pork belly attached to the loin. However, in the interest of convenience, I decided to opt for a skin-on pork shoulder instead. This much simpler cut of meat was still evasive, as I tried what must have been five different butcher shops before finally finding what I needed at Laurelhurst Market. After poking my head into the neighboring Music Millennium (because right before going off to college, I for some reason needed to buy more records at the same time I was trying to get rid of stuff I didn’t need) for a quick second, it was off to prepare my marinade.

This marinade incorporated fennel, rosemary from our garden, sage, garlic, lemon, olive oil, salt, pepper, and chili flakes.

Everything was chopped in a Cuisinart (I’m lazy, so sue me) until it reached the consistency of a spreadable paste which we will, of course, spread all over our pork. But first, we must prepare the pork itself.

The advantage of having this thick layer of skin is that we can score it to really allow our marinade to penetrate. Plus, our scored skin will crisp up beautifully in the oven.

Now that our pork has been sufficiently massaged, it goes into the fridge overnight.

Our pork is ready for the oven. We’ll blast it at like 400 degrees for 45 minutes to crisp up the skin, and then lower the temp to around 200 degrees for several hours to cook it low and slow. So in the meantime, let’s examine the origins of porchetta.

Porchetta, or some version of it, dates all the way back to Roman times. The ancient porchetta used most of the same seasonings of today (rosemary, garlic, fennel, etc) but they deboned and roasted the whole pig, and stuffed it with the liver and the heart. As such, it was a favorite of the lower classes, especially army camps (as the dish was always cooked for a large crowd). Instead of being cooked on a rotating spit like most of today’s porchetta, it was cooked in an underground pit. According to culinary historian Nicolo Di Stefano, the version of porchetta most similar to the modern one we all know and love originated in Ariccia, a town outside of Rome, in the 15th century. In fact, on Sundays in 15th century Ariccia, “we had a holiday… and the porchetta was practically the focus point.”

Thanks for sticking with me. Let’s check on our pork, which has the entire house awash in it’s fragrant savory perfume.

Wow. Look at that skin. It crisped up into a beautiful amber-colored checkerboard. While the whole affair cools, let me introduce you to the rest of our feast.

This salad composed of arugula, burrata, sliced peaches, and balsamic was inspired by a recent meal at LeChon (while the meal itself received mixed reviews from me, this salad was one of the highlights).

To accompany the pork, I also decided to make a chimichurri for a little bit of moisture and zest to cut through the richness of the fatty meat.

Okay. We’re finally ready for the big moment. It’s time to slice our pork. Let’s see how it turned out.

As I sliced into this massive slab of meat, not unlike a knight slaying a dragon, a waft of garlicky, fennel-y, zesty air tickled my nostrils. With every hot, steamy slice, I could see how juicy and tender the pork was. Sorry if that got a little graphic, but this truly was an experience that demanded all the senses. I did my best to break down this behemoth into manageable pieces. Finally, after hours of work, it was time to assemble our sandwiches.

Just some pork (make sure to get some of that crispy skin), a generous dab of chimichurri, and a gently toasted brioche. And don’t forget your salad, to counterbalance the deeply unhealthy thing you are about to put in your face.

There we go. And how was it? It was a gloriously flavorful greasy mess. Slabs of garlicky fennel-y pork melted in one’s mouth like butter. A wide range of textures ping-ponged around the mouth, from the crunchy bread to the crisp skin to the tender meat. The chimichurri brought a zing of freshness to the entire affair. And the salad was delicious, of course. If you don’t want to spend your entire day roasting a slab of pork, at least make this salad. It’s like four ingredients, and you should make it now before summer fruit season ends.

Well folks, it’s time to say farewell. You may see some of my writing in The Eagle, American University’s premier student publication, in a year or two. You might not. It may be about food. It may not. Regardless, it’s been fun. I wish you well in all your future endeavours. Peace.