Pulled Pork

I've been thinking about pulled pork.

This isn't unusual. If I exerted as much brain power thinking about the impact of Protestant theology on Renaissance narrative structure as I exert thinking about pulled pork, my book would be long finished. But really, can you blame me? Is there much in the world as beautiful as the confluence of smoke and pork? I would put it right up there with Paradise Lost in terms of highly satisfying aesthetic experiences.

My first introduction to the glories of pulled pork came in the back yard of my friend George's graduate school house. He had a smoker and knew what to do with it. He would transform a big, fatty hunk of boston butt (a big cut of pork shoulder) into a minor -- make that major -- masterpiece: succulent, unctuous (a much better word than greasy, don't you think?), smoky. We would stand in his tiny kitchen together, pulling at the still steaming meat with forks, with George getting final say about how much fat and caramelized rind would make it in to the final product. Then he would top the whole thing with just enough barbeque sauce to make it sweet and spicy and moist, without covering up the taste of the pork itself. His sauce of choice was Montgomery Inn, which he would bring back from his trips home to Ohio by the caseload. I would bring the coleslaw, made very simply with cabbage (red and green when I felt fancy), mayonnaise, vinegar, sugar, pepper and celery salt. I didn't have a recipe, so I'd just taste it until it seemed right. The creaminess and fresh crispness of the coleslaw added a little balance to the rich pork.

The only pulled pork I've had that really matches George's is from Everett and Jones in Oakland, a fabulous barbeque establishment. Actually, they have two restaurants. The one in Jack London square is big and friendly, with photos of celebrities and the owners' families on the wall. The other is a hole in the wall take-out counter in Berkeley; no tables, just a counter, some hungry patrons, a whole lotta smoke and a little attitude toward the only white girl in the place.

I have not had good pulled pork in Spokane. Lonestar BBQ is highly disappointing -- the sauce there is the star, and it isn't a particularly bright one. The meat is dry and smokeless. Better is the pulled pork sandwich at the Safari Room in the Davenport Towers. The pork is truly smoked, but the sauce is overly sweet, and the sandwich as a whole seems cloying rather than succulent. Chicken-n-More doesn't have pulled pork, and given how oily and strangely flaccid their ribs are, I'm okay with that.

I had great hopes for Lazy Bones on Regal. They have pretty good baby back ribs, and their sides are a nice blend of traditional barbeque -- corn bread, beans, greens -- and healthy, although I am deeply suspicious of their decision to have vinaigrette cole slaw. But what they serve instead of pulled pork is a "smoked, chopped pork." The taste is okay, but the consistency is all wrong. It feels steamed more than smoked, and there is no caramelization. None. No crisp, no char, no intense smoke, no malliard reaction (aka that beautiful chemical voodoo that happens to meat when you brown it. Don't forget, people: Brown means flavor). In my book, this nearly disqualifies them as a barbeque joint at all.

I get it. Pulled pork is hard. It takes all day, and it requires some sort of smoker. I've never gotten great results in my Weber, because I can't keep the temperature low enough to not leave the pork tough. Alton Brown describes a great, McGyver style smoker using giant flower pots, wood chips, and (I'm not kidding here) a heating pad, but I've never tried it. If you would like, here's the clip on YouTube: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_Ka2kpzTAL8. Let me know how it goes.

So, here's my version of "cheater" pulled pork. It isn't smoked, which would make me skeptical too, and it isn't the real thing, but it has a great texture and lots of good, brown, crispy, caramelized bits. I usually make it for sandwiches, but I've also served it on a pita chip as a cocktail nosh with just a little pickled onion on top.

One package boneless country-style ribs (between 2 1/2 and three pounds) -- DO NOT USE LEAN OR EXTRA LEAN. It just isn't the same.

2 cups water

1 1/2 cups orange juice

lots of whole, peeled garlic

1 tsp salt

Cut the pork into chunks. Don't worry about trimming it. Put it and everything else in a big pot with a lid (I use my endlessly useful Le Crueset). Boil it with the lid on for about one and a half hours, or until the pork is almost tender. Take the lid off and turn up the heat, until the pork is basically dry. This takes about half an hour to forty-five minutes. At this point, I usually have too much pork to work with in my pan (and certainly more than two people can eat at once), so I freeze half of it. The other half, I transfer to a 12 inch non-stick skillet on high heat. The fat will render out of the pork and fry the meat, and as you stir it around, the meat will basically pull itself. Fry until most of the meat is dark brown, and you have some crispy strands. It is very oily, so I usually drain it, either in a colander or on paper napkins, before I add my barbeque sauce. Then, eat it up however you like your pulled pork.

I adapted this recipe from one for Carnitas (mexican fried pork), and the meat works brilliantly for any number of mexican meals as well, without the barbeque sauce, of course. I like it just on a crisped corn tortilla, with a little fresh salsa and guacamole.

By the way, has any one tried the faux-log barbeque cart, seen sometimes on North Division? I would gladly trade my fake pork for a good version of the real thing!