Braised Pork Shoulder: The Gift that Keeps on Giving

I have a collection of photos stockpiled from our various cooking endeavors over the last month or so, but it's only fitting to start this blog with a post about its namesake: pork shoulder braised with vegetables, beer, and gin. For those who are unfamiliar, braising is a cooking technique that is maximally rewarding in every way possible: rich, complex flavor, an enormous quantity of meat that only tastes better when it is reheated after days or even a week, and, not insignificantly, ease of cooking and cost efficiency.

Braising is simple: take a large, tough cut of meat, brown it in a pot on the stove, pour a bunch of liquid (preferably a combination of stock and alcohol) and vegetables and stuff into the pot, and then put the pot in the oven on low heat for two to three hours. What you get out of the deal: meat that is so tender that it can't even hold onto the bone, vegetables that are soft but not falling apart, and a sauce that won't disappoint in the slightest.

We bought a seven-and-a-half pound pork shoulder from Ferraro's, a fantastic grocery store in Fair Haven--at least if what you're looking for is any kind of meat imaginable (Ferraro's at Yelp)--which cost around eight dollars.


It's on the bone in the picture there, and although you can't really see the scale, it's huge. Way too big for the pot. I had never worked with a piece of meat this big, let alone tried to butcher it. Here's the security cam footage of the scene after I murdered this poor, lonesome swine.

Sporting the Lady Macbeth:


After the massacre, I cut up a lot of vegetables. There is no need to measure if you're going to recreate this. Just cut up a bunch of carrots, celery, onions, and garlic. Heat olive oil in a large pot on the stove, and allow the vegetables to cook until they have softened slightly. It's best to do this in batches.


I'm shifting into recipe mode here; I don't just have poor consistency in my verb conjugation. That's a note primarily for my parents.

Now, remove the vegetables and add the drawn and quartered slabs of animal flesh to the pot, browning them briefly on all sides. Salt and pepper them beforehand. Don't overcook them (a stupid imperative to mention, since "overcooking" is by definition something you don't want to do). Just a touch on each side is enough. Throw the vegetables back in the pot, and mix it up so there's a bit of everything at each elevation in the pot.

Now comes the important part: add whatever you want to the pot if you think it will taste good. We used an adaptation of a Mark Bittman recipe. He wanted us to use a dark beer and juniper berries, so we used one bottle of Guinness, one bottle of Hooker IPA (because it was in the fridge), a healthy slug of gin, and I think a small amount of chicken stock. This sounds complicated, but it's not. You're literally pouring liquid into a pot with stuff you heated in the pot beforehand a little bit.


Liberally add fresh herbs to the mixture (we used rosemary and thyme, but anything not too exotic will work), and bring the pot to a boil. Let it boil for a minute, and then transfer it to the oven at about 350°. The liquid should be at a low simmer, and it should smell great. Periodically check on it to make sure it's not boiling, without letting out too much heat, and about an hour in, rotate the meat pieces through the pot, and stick it back in the oven for at least another hour, maybe an hour and a half.

When it comes out of the oven, it looks like this:


We didn't own any tongs when I cooked this, so I used a set of crudely carved wooden salad utensils to lift the enormous amount of food out of the pot and transfer it to another dish. The next step is to reduce the sauce a bit by simmering it while skimming the fat off of the top. Then, serve the meat with bread (to sop up the intensely delicious sauce), and enjoy. Set aside some time, because it's a total sensory experience. By which I mean it pretty much works one over on your body like it's Thanksgiving. Only cheap, it doesn't taste the same every time, and I doubt you'll want to leave room for pie.


Finally, the estimated cost of the whole meal? Around 18-20 dollars, but it makes about 10 hearty servings over the course of a week. Remember how I called a braise the gift that keeps on giving? The leftovers are just as good, and they make a ridiculous pork sandwich with barbecue sauce. Ridiculous. I use Sweet Baby Ray's, which costs a dollar fifty at the grocery store. Try braising something--you'll never again think that you can't afford to eat incredibly rich, tender, high quality meat on a budget.