Cleaning Fish- Gird Your Loins!

Okay, we're going to walk through cleaning fish on the deck, but look out! It's a little messy.

After you let the fish bleed out, cut around the gills and pull them out.

 

Cut down the belly to the anus.

Open the belly and pull out the entrails.

If there's an egg sac, try to keep it intact.

Scrape out the excess intestines and rinse well before storing in the fish box or on ice. And make sure to cut open the stomach to see what the fish last ate- it makes nice dinner conversation when your guests want to know everything about the critter they're eating.

 

We had a female and tried some of the eggs. They were ... eggy. And not the greatest texture. I guess it needs a little treatment with brine or chilling down over right out of the ocean. I'll let the sushi chefs keep in charge of that.

 

 

Here's a little video showing some of the internal plumbing mysteries of a fish. And vegetarians out there (the real kind that don't eat fish), I respect that you eat only what you're willing to harvest. It's a great reminder of why I would venture out in search of my own food than go to the fishmonger.

 

Piggies!

Trout brought home these little piggies to raise for home cured bacon, tenderloin and other porky morsels this winter. I got to meet them on their drive home and wanted to introduce you. There will be more visits with them to come!

I peeked in on last year's pigs as they matured, but missed the slaughter. I think this is a crucial part of the cycle to witness as a meat eater (I suggest reading The Girl Hunter and Cleaving if it strikes an ethical cord for you). I caught the end of butchering that year and am fascinated with the efficiency of raising meat. My hat goes off to my empowered friends for putting in the hard work themselves- it makes a far more conscientious carnivore. 

I never dreamed piglets could be even stinkier than adult pigs, but I still have lots to learn if the masters' patience allows.

This essay by Thomas Keller completely changed my thinking about how we eat and cook meat, and reinforced my deep respect for the labor that goes into each ingredient we consume. Please read before you picket!

Save that Ham Bone!

Last weekend, a chef friend asked me if I would use a leftover leg bone from a roasted pig. Um, yes! This may look like garbage or dog food to some, but I assure you it's pure gold. With a world of southern recipes I have yet to make swimming around in my head and a bone with lots of meat left on it, I'd have been crazy to say no.

The first thing I did was make ham stock. It's not nearly as versatile as chicken or veggie because it is so much fattier, but is a great base for lots of southern recipes. Collard greens, here I come!

I had to gingerly rotate the bone because even the largest stock pot in the house wasn't big enough for it.

Gently boiling for a couple hours will eventually pull all the meat off the bone. Pork stock takes a lot of skimming with the high fat content. (And on a sidenote, I apologize that the meat does not look more appetizing with my bottom line camera skills. Lots of props to photographers who can make meat look good in pictures!)

When I couldn't handle the stinky ham smell anymore, I pulled the pot and strained. Then I picked through the meat, pulling off all the fat, which are good for flavor, but not good to chew on.

This stock is perfect for cooking down collard greens, mixed with some of the ham hock. I had so much extra, I also made bean soup with nettles and garlic. The perfect southern gravy I want to make will have to wait till next time.

Cleaving

What amazes me about reading is when you find that perfect book for that perfect time in your life.  Since I've been slowly trudging through books ever since I moved here from New York (where commuting gave me over 2 hours a day for reading), it is always incredible to find a book I don't want to put down and can get through in less than a few weeks.

For me, that book was Cleaving, by Julie Powell.  You may remember Powell from the heartwarming Julie and Julia.  Well, forget her.  Cleaving is the evil twin, the story of a dark time when Powell worked in a butcher shop while she was in a wrenching affair.  The parallels she draws between breaking down meat and tumultuous relationships are poetic and relevant.  Though dark and ugly, the writing is brutally honest and vulnerable, which takes a lot of guts (did I mention the parallels?).  At a time when I couldn't be more disenchanted by food and love, this was the absolute perfect read.  This takes something as rudimentary as butchery or love, and shows the multi-layered complexity through beauty and ugliness.

At last, the part of me that always found butchery to be intriguing is finally understood by another.  I am this close to walking into Willowside Meats and asking for a job.