I have flirted with the idea of making the traditional pork pie in Charcuterie since I first bought the book a couple of years ago. It seemed so Dickensian, something my sooty-faced Welsh coal-miner ancestors might have washed down with a pint of beer at the end of a long day in the mines. It also seemed like a huge pain in the tuchis.
So, when Cathy and Kim announced the Charcutepalooza Challenge #9: Packing, I mentally thanked the meat goddesses for digitally kicking my butt into gear. It was time to make a meat pie.
I followed the Ruhlman/Polcyn recipe pretty faithfully, with three minor exceptions:
1. I was about an ounce short of lard for the butter/lard crust, so I subbed in some duck fat.*
2. I neglected to take my home-cured and smoked ham* out of the freezer in time to add it in to the pie, so I fried up some bacon to sub in for the ham.
3. Instead of chicken stock, I used some rich pork stock that I had leftover from last month’s headcheese challenge*. This stuff was gooey and gelatinous, so I felt pretty confident it would stand in nicely.
(*I take a perverse amount of pleasure in the fact that this whole Charcutepalooza experience puts me in a position to say, “Hm. Not enough lard? No problem: I’ll use this duck fat that of couse I have in my fridge. No chicken stock? Well, surely I can sub that extra ham stock from the headcheese.” Ditto the ham, but since I forgot to thaw it out, I am less pleased with myself.)
- pie, ready for the oven
First off, I must say: this thing is huge. I can easily understand why working-class Brits relied upon the old pork pie to feed a hungry family. And when you consider that this is, essentially, pork + bacon wrapped in a butter + lard crust, the stick-to-the-ribs quotient is pretty high.
out of the oven: not very pretty
Second: my house smelled AMAZING while this was baking. Both cats went berserk from the aromas, which is almost always a sign of culinary success.
Third, it wasn’t even really that difficult! I mean, compared with that damn headcheese, this was a piece of cake (um, pie?). A couple of hours, from start to finish, and the tasks could easily be separated out over a day or two for even more convenience.
Since we were eating pie warm, I skipped the aspic. Truth to tell, the insides of this pie were so unctuously moist that I think the aspic would have been a bit much. A little bit of salad on the side and this made a great early fall dinner. The husband went back for seconds (and thirds), and we still have 3/4 of a pie for leftovers and sharing with willing friends.
Dinner! So good the husband said he'd marry me all over again.
Full disclosure: while in the making of this pie, I couln’t help but belt out that great tune from Sweeney Todd, The Worst Pies in London.” Blessedly, I didn’t encounter a demon barber along the way!
Thank you, Cathy and Kim, for another great culinary adventure!