Day 17: Head Games

Yesterday’s Torrent of Tenderloin carried over into the morning and the versatile cut found its way into my breakfast oats.  This version was seasoned with saffron salt, but the smoky bacon seemed to kill any nuance of saffron.

Oats, Bacon x 2, sliced tenderloin, saffron salt and olive oil

I had been doing some reading on cooking pig’s head and decided that I would try brining the meat to tenderize the skin and cartilage and help it absorb water; the extra water would prevent the head from drying out while it cooks for about 6 hours (according to my estimates).  I had planned on only cooking half of the head since it was pretty big and I didn’t want to be faced with many days of head leftovers; but when I pulled the head from the freezer I realized that I had made a mistake.  I had failed to finish splitting the head in two before I had placed it in the icy confines of my freezer and now it was one solid piece.  By default I’d have to cook the whole thing; however, now I was stuck without a container in which to brine the whole head since I didn’t have a container that was both big enough to hold the whole head yet small enough to fit in my fridge.  I toyed with the idea of brining it my cooler, but that seemed fraught with piggy peril; I’d have to keep adding ice and the brining solution would likely fall out of balance.  Then it hit me, I’d brine it in the thick plastic bag it came in.

The head's temporary home... the ears wouldn't bend!

The first of 2 cups of salt in the brine...yikes!

I had been doing some reading on cooking pig’s head and decided that I would try brining the meat to tenderize the skin and cartilage and help it absorb water; the extra water would prevent the head from drying out while it cooks for about 6 hours (according to my estimates).  I had planned on only cooking half of the head since it was pretty big and I didn’t want to be faced with many days of head leftovers; but when I pulled the head from the freezer I realized that I had made a mistake.  I had failed to finish splitting the head in two before I had placed it in the icy confines of my freezer and now it was one solid piece.  By default I’d have to cook the whole thing; however, now I was stuck without a container in which to brine the whole head since I didn’t have a container that was both big enough to hold the whole head yet small enough to fit in my fridge.  I toyed with the idea of brining it my cooler, but that seemed fraught with piggy peril; I’d have to keep adding ice and the brining solution would likely fall out of balance.  Then it hit me, I’d brine it in the thick plastic bag it came in.

Finding yet another use for one of the most versatile tools on earth, I zip tied the bag closed and then double bagged it in kitchen garbage bags.  I wasn’t going to take any chances with a plastic bag filled with a pig’s head and 12 litres of salty water; leakage would mean disaster.  On a side note, I once had a car whose entire front bumper was held on by zip ties; I’m willing to bet that they were the strongest thing on the car, a tin can otherwise known as a Honda Civic hatchback.  It was red, had an automatic transmission, didn’t have a single option ticked off the options list and looked like a jellybean.  I hated that car, but it wasn’t without its charms: it had a remote starter and it fired up every cold winter morning without fail.

Turn often to ensure even brining

I hit the grocery store to restock my fridge and ended up finding some pork liver.  I decided to pick it up and stash it in the freezer until I could figure out how to cook it.  It’s widely known that I have an aversion to liver, but though the power of garlic, onions and aromatics I’ll persevere.  I passed by Totera Fine Foods on my way home to see if I could pick up some other items to fill out my pork list.  I found out that I had missed out on the hearts, but they had some kidneys.  I also picked up some leg bones and had them split in half so that I can roast them and spoon out the marrow.  As I waited in line an inquisitive old woman spotted the kidneys on the counter.  “Whose are those?” she asked.  When I told her they were she asked how I planned on cooking them.  “I have no idea” I said.  To which she replied “why would you buy something that you don’t know how to cook?”  Her raised and harsh tone painted her as someone who had lead a pathetic and unfulfilled life full of regret and disappointment; I didn’t appreciate the tone and responded sharply…”It’s called adventure…good day madam.”  I may have thought she was out of line, but the old bag had a point: I had no idea what I was going to do with the kidneys.  Good thing I had bought “The Odd Bits” last week; surely it would have a kidney recipe in it.

Lunch was a simple sandwich of prosciutto and fresh mozzarella to which I added a few slices of home-made capicollo.

Anthony Bourdain (one of my favourite food writers) has this to say of some of the stranger bits of pork: “A trained chimp can steam a lobster.  But it takes love and time and respect for one’s ingredients to deal with pig’s ear or a kidney properly.  And the rewards are enormous”.

Given my patient and positive experience with pig’s ears, I’d tend to agree.  But now it was time to begin preparing dinner: the kidneys.  Since this was my first time cooking pig’s kidney, I brined them in salted acidulated water to tone down what could be a strong flavour.

My first taste of pig’s kidneys took place in 2010 as I shared a meal with a family of Taiwanese aboriginal Jehovah’s witnesses (No, I’m not making this up; it was one of the most surreal experiences of my life).  But they had served it in a soup with all kinds of other pig organs, so the taste was less than distinct.  See "My Date with a Pig" and  "In Taiwan?  This Could only happen to me!"

After an hour of brining I split the kidney open and marinated the lobes in a mix of olive oil, rosemary and black pepper.

Sliced open, you have to admit, the kidney's quite beautiful.
It reminds me of a pomegranate.

Bones and kidneys

Marinated and ready for the grill

I grilled them for a few minutes, any longer and they would be rendered tough and rubbery, and ate them with salad of Belgian endive and fennel.  I hadn’t followed a recipe, merely taken some pointers from “The Odd Bits”; I suppose I should have assumed that sheep’s kidneys were smaller pig’s kidney’s, but since I didn’t, my grilling time of five minutes was too short.  As I sliced into the kidneys, there was crimson tide in my plate, the red of the blood in stark contrast to the white of the plate.  After taking a bite to confirm they were still to raw, I returned them to a pan and finished them off with some butter; the final result was fantastic and I savoured every bite.