dessert recipes
A Two Way Street: The Reciprocity of Education Joshua Lewin Originally appeared in Food Arts, February 2013 When I made the decision to get serious about my butchering education, I knew I was going to need a little help. Friends recommended I spend a weekend at Mosefund Farm in New Jersey. Mosefund, among other things, specializes in raising a breed of pork called the Mangalitsa. Once rare, but now increasingly common on American menus, Mangalitsa is an Austrian specialty, which is uniquely fatty and great for charcuterie.
a gregarious, lifelong resident of Arizona; his mother, from South Carolina. Hers, a more reserved pair, both from Colombia. I knew this was going to be a surprise to both sets of parents, which kept me awake for a few nights before the class. It’s one thing to welcome a group of six individuals who come expecting to get their hands dirty, bloody, and slick as the raw fat melts on the board. It’s quite another thing to surprise two sets of in-laws with a dead lamb and hand them a knife.
While I could continue on about the Mangalitsa; this is really about education. On this farm, once a year, the president of the Austrian Mangalitsa Breeders’ Association visits to instruct and supervise a handful of students in the slaughtering, butchering, preparation, and consuming of his beloved hog. I learned an awful lot that weekend. My friend Rachel and I made a road trip out of it and learned a lot about each other, too, in between the slaughter and skinning of a 250-pound pig, the European style butchering of the carcass, and the enjoyment of several very fun meals.
But the day came, and the group arrived. Thankfully no one was wearing high heels. They were all smiling. They must not know why they are here yet…right? But no, they did. They were excited and ready to get to work.
That weekend inspired me to bring the spirit of discovery and appreciation to interested members of the public, inside the restaurant. Typically these programs are a one-day affair, which is somewhat abbreviated, but is still plenty of time to learn.
Pedro, from Colombia, was a great lover of food. He enjoyed the growing “fresh” market culture in the United States and good cooking. But he sure missed Colombia, where you can eat a different fruit, fresh and local, every day for a month, any month, without any repeats. He wasn’t much of a hunter or a butcher himself, but was certainly comfortable with the idea.
The group convenes on a Sunday afternoon, after brunch and before dinner service begins. At that hour, the restaurant is open, but slow. There is activity all around as the line cooks prep for dinner service. The small group of butchery students learn a few things, by osmosis, about working in a small space and staying out of the way. A recent class quickly became a favorite of mine. A young couple purchased the space for 6 and brought along each of their parents as a gift. The family turned out to be fun and quite diverse. His father, 48
Tom, from Arizona, was an avid hunter and a big believer in eating what he captures, and eating it well. He recounted stories — The one he left hanging in the garage because he’d hurt his shoulder and had to teach his wife to dress it. The one he left in the bathtub but forgot to warn the family about.
The lamb on the table reminded him of a favorite restaurant in Colombia that specialized in a sort of chicken stew, sancocho. At this particular establishment, you would place your order sometime in the mid-afternoon and then wait a long while. Hours? He seemed to remember it must have been hours. Perhaps they were out choosing the chicken, still live, before preparing it fresh. Whatever they were doing, he hadn’t forgotten that particular Sancocho,
