Who, any sane-thinking person might wonder, would be so perverse as to purchase a cookbook whose unifying principle is that each recipe takes an abnormally long time to prepare? When I received this cookbook, I initially tossed it to the bottom of my cookbook pile in disgust. Don’t I have enough to feel inadequate about without imagining that I should be taking all day to roast my meats and vegetables in a communal clay oven the manner of traditional Mediterranean women? And whom, other than individuals whose job it is to spend all day cooking things and write about it (e.g., Paula), has time to do so? I'm a lawyer, for god's sakes!
Of course, Paula Wolfert is a bit of a rock star in the cookbook world, and I had to admit friends have prepared delicious meals for us from her book on southwest
I started out with the Steamed Chickpeas, a method that is meant to bring out their nuttiness. The chickpeas are soaked overnight (the only time-consuming aspect of this recipe), steamed for 45 minutes, and then tossed with salt and cumin. I thought they tasted fine. Ok, I thought, maybe my chickpeas weren't so fresh, you never know with dried chickpeas. (Overlooking the fact that I had spent $6 on Umbrian chickpeas that looked much fresher than anything else on the shelf).
Next, I tried the Pork Stew with Prunes and Onions. The gravy was delicious, but the meat was tough. Ok, I thought, obviously I did not keep the heat at a gentle enough simmer.
In an effort to try to understand once and for all what all the slow roasting hoopla is about, I decided to make the ominously named Night-And-Day Slow Roasted Pork Shoulder. The introduction promises "a pork shoulder with big, bold crunchy skin and interior so meltingly tender in texture and so vibrant in taste" that I would mend my high-temperature, fast-cooking ways. However, the logistics of this particular recipe were, to say the least, challenging. You are supposed to rub the pork with a paste of garlic and herbs, roast it at 450 F for 45 minutes, add vegetables, stock and sherry, and then roast at 180 F for 12-24 hours. Granted I am not that nimble in the math department, but I could not for the life of me figure out how to time this recipe such that I could serve it at 7:30 p.m. for dinner. If I were to figure 1/2 hour for prep, 45 minutes for high temp roasting, 12 hours for slow roasting, and then 30 minutes to rest, that meant that I would need to start at around 6 a.m. and presumably wake at some ungodly hour beginning with five. Alternatively, I could start the recipe at midnight, to give it the full 24 hour roast, taking it on faith that it would not dry out if my guests were late.
There was, however, a very confusing set of alternative instructions for ovens with a hearth kit - which we have. This alternative appeared to involve about 6 1/2 hours in the oven, although it cross-referenced the steps in the regular recipe in a maddeningly confusing way, so it is possible that I completely misunderstood. For this variation, you are supposed to turn the oven off for the last portion of the cooking time, allowing the pork to cook slowly in the receding heat from the hearth kit. Paula warns very sternly not to open the over door during this last portion, lest you allow the heat to escape, in which case your pork will never cook. So, I basically spent several hours worriedly feeling the front of the oven to see if it was still hot, dubious that the pork was maintaining a high enough internal temperature, but powerless to open the oven to check. Well, there was no happy ending. When I cut the pork open (in front of my guests), it was raw. Ok, I thought, obviously I misunderstood the recipe, and anyways should never have tried to use the hearth kit shortcut.
Finally, I tried the Tuscan Quail with Red Grape Sauce. Here, too, the timing for cooking the meat was confusing. You are instructed to brown the quail for 20 minutes, simmer it in a sauce of pureed grapes, pancetta and rosemary for 20 minutes, and then grill/broil the quail briefly. It sounded like way too much cooking time to me, but after the pork fiasco I was doubting my judgment. Because my quail was a little bony, I cooked it a drop less than the recipe instructed. In any case, the sauce was yummy but the quail was overcooked. When I brought it out to the table, I felt as exposed as my poor little quail.
Well, a few days after my pork fiasco, I got a call from my mother-in-law, who had witnessed the whole thing. She told me that a friend of hers had tried the recipe -- but the 12 hour version -- and that the pork had been undercooked because, in her opinion, the recipe just did not work. It was like a weight was lifted off of my shoulders. No, I did not need to keep soldiering through, into the slow roasted lamb section, pitifully re-attempting the join the society of smugly-knowing slow roasters. I could abandon this cookbook once and for all, because the recipes are not reliable enough to devote an expensive hunk of meat to them.
At the end of the day, if you receive this book as a gift or are foolhardy enough to purchase it for yourself, you (and your culinary self-esteem) have been forewarned.
P.S. -- If anyone makes a recipe from this cookbook that turns out well, please tell me in the comments!
Though she didn't discuss them, the leeks that are pictured at the top of the post were actually really good.
Posted by: Mr. Addict | January 14, 2008 at 08:09 PM