Cambozola-Stuffed, Bacon-Wrapped Wild Black Dates

Aka the perfect holiday appetizer.

So how did I find these little beauties?  I think I've mentioned before that I started a cleaning company to pay for school.  I was at a client's house the other morning and we got to chatting.  Both being food lovers, we often trade recipes and good shops and general food chitter chatter.  This morning I was telling her about my recent bacon-makin' and she immediately seized on the opportunity to let me try "the most delicious thing I've ever eaten."  Seriously.  Unbelievably.  Delicious.

And so simple.  And so delicious.


The secret is to find the perfect ingredients.

I chose wild black dates from Ayoub's dried fruits and nuts on Denman.  If you live in Vancouver and haven't taken a visit to Ayoub's yet then I urge you to go.  Yes, urge.  Simply for the giant, ornate pewter containers that the nuts and fruits sit in, gorgeous.  He roasts the nuts himself and you can just tell that he takes what he does seriously.  I love food people like that and I love to support them.  So buy your dates from him.

The cambozola I purchased from Les Amis du Fromage - their Hastings location.  I've been wanting to check out this location and what a perfect opportunity.  The cheese lady recommended Fourme d'Ambert, a french cow's milk cheese.  It melted beautifully.

I am using my own bacon.  Salty, smoky deliciousness.

Directions

1) Cook the bacon to a nice level of doneness.  You want the bacon cooked through but still soft enough to wrap around the date and cheese.

2) As the bacon is cooking, cut a slit in the dates and pull the seed out.  Take a little chunk of cheese and stuff it into the date.  Take a piece of bacon and wrap it around the date - secure in place with toothpicks.

3) As this point you can either pop the delicious cheesy datey packages into the oven at 400 degrees until the cheese starts to ooze out or you can pop them in the fridge until you want to use them.

You know they're done when the cheese is melty and bubbly.

The Verdict

What a perfect holiday appetizer!  They are easy to make, can be made ahead of time, use cheese and bacon and are absolutely delicious!  I've served these on two separate occasions now and both times they were adored.

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Shonagh explores the guts of food in An Offal Experiment.

Homemade Bacon

Homemade bacon is the best thing ever.  Ever.

Before I tell you how I made it, let me tell you how I ate it.  Right after I pulled the cured and smoked belly off the barbeque, I decided to slice off a piece, cube it, fry the cubes and then... wait for it...  put the fried bacon on some bread with a drizzle of maple syrup.  It's like happiness on a piece of bread.  Salty, sweet, smoky, crispy, fatty...  I am 100% sold on making my own bacon.

So why did I decide to make my own bacon?  Well, it fits my pattern of interests considering I've made pancetta and guanciale already.  It also gives me an opportunity to try smoking.  Lastly, I need bacon for my famous Thanksgiving brussels sprouts.  Yeah they're famous, and I will be posting the recipe soon.

Here is how the bacon-makin' went.

1. I bought a gorgeous 2-pound piece of pork belly.  Funnily enough I was just reading the other day not to freak out if your pork belly had nipples and guess what???  My pork belly had two nipples.  Off they came, along with the rest of the pork skin.  When I made pancetta, I left the skin on, but with the bacon I decided to cut it off.  The easiest way to do this is to start with a sharp knife.  With the belly lying on your counter, skin-side up, make a cut between the skin and the fat, as close to the skin as possible, down one entire side of the belly.

To imagine what you are about to do, your hand is on top of the skin and the knife is just below the skin.  The knife blade is held parallel to the counter (and pork belly).  Your hand should be able to feel the knife through the skin - this will help you take off a minimum of fat.  Go slowly and check periodically to make sure you aren't taking off too much fat with the skin.

Don't throw away the fat-covered skin!  I am using mine in an upcoming braised dish.  All you do is put the skin, fat side down, in a hot pan and render the fat out.  You can then use the fat to saute whatever your heart desires.  Freeze it in a ziploc bag until you need it.

2. Pour the ingredients for the curing mix into a bowl and combine well.  All you really need is salt and sugar.  I decided to add thyme, coriander seed and hot pepper.  The thyme has anti-microbial properties and a delicious taste.  I am in love with coriander seed and the hot pepper just goes well with everything.  I mean, spicy bacon...  Mmmm...

Curing Mix

2/3 salt

1/3 sugar

A few sprigs of thyme (optional)

1 tablespoon of coriander seed

2 tablespoons of hot pepper (optional) 

At the start of the curing process

Spread a good amount of the curing mix on the bottom of a ceramic or glass dish.  Nestle the pork belly on top and then spread the rest of the curing mix on top.  I like to massage it in a little bit.  Just a little bit, gently, using my fingertips.  Then pop it in the fridge.  It sits in the fridge for about a week, being turned every day or so.

The day before the smoking, take the pork out of the salt/sugar mix, rinse it and let it sit on a rack in the fridge.  This allows the pork belly to develop a pellicle or coating on the outside.  The pellicle helps the belly absorb the smoke.

3. Now, it is time for the smoking.  I decided to do a hot smoke.  Mostly because I am using a BBQ so I don't really have the option of doing a cold smoke.  As well, though, I didn't use nitrites in my curing mix.  Nitrites kill botulism and I felt uncomfortable holding a piece of pork at a warm temperature for an extended period of time (8-12 hours) without this botulism killing power.  The last thing I want to do on Thanksgiving is give my family food poisoning.

At the end of the curing process

I turned one burner on as low as it could go, and placed a packet of hickory wood chips, two star anise pods, a teaspoon of black peppercorns, and two bay leaves in an aluminum foil packet on top.  The pork sat as far away from the heat as possible, but even still, it reached 150 degrees Fahrenheit in about an hour and a half.  I would have liked to smoke it out for longer, but fate would not allow this.  Once it reached temperature, I pulled it off, let it cool a bit, wrapped it in foil, and then popped it in the fridge.  It will sit in there for a couple days to rest in anticipation of Thanksgiving.

Verdict: As I mentioned earlier, I did sample the bacon and it was amazing.  The smoke flavour from the BBQ is so much better than the injected smoke flavour found in store bought bacon.  So much better.  It is ultra-luscious and fatty.  I don't think I will ever eat store-bought bacon again.

Now I just need to buy a proper smoker.

Notes:

• Smoking as a method to cure meats came about an accident.  I guess that's what happens when you live in a smoke-filled cave with no fridge!
• If you do decide to experiment with cold smoke, you need to properly cure the flesh.  And you might want to use nitrites.  Just sayin'.
• I love bacon.

References:

• Curing Food Safety
• Smoking Meat Forum

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Shonagh explores the guts of food in An Offal Experiment.

Dinner for Dad: Pasta Carbonara

For those that follow my blog, you will remember the start of my love affair with cured pig cheek or guanciale.  A traditional use for this lovely fatty pinch of pig is in carbonara, a traditional Roman pasta dish full of egg and cheese and guanciale.  Sounds pretty good right?

So I decided to "treat" (not this time unfortunately) my Dad to a dinner while my Mom was away.  This seemed to be a win-win situation in many ways.

First, I get to hang out with my Dad, which I always enjoy.  Second, he doesn't have to eat take-out for at least one night (my Mom is the cook, he is the dishwasher).  Third, he is very accepting of food and so is the perfect target for new and/or untested recipes.  Fourth, he eats gluten and my Mom doesn't, and finally, it is the opening ceremony of the London Olympics and he has a giant TV and I have none.  What a perfect situation!? 

What a perfect foil for an untested recipe...  Please allow the story to unfold.

Ingredients

• Batch of homemade pasta
• Fresh peas from Bob's fruit stand
• Large chunk of guanciale
• Two eggs
• 1/2 cup of parmesan
• Sprigs of thyme

Directions

1) Everything started out well.  I was a bit nervous about making pasta for the first time, especially without a pasta machine but being experienced with handling dough I thought should hold me in good stead.  It did.  The kneading went well.  I chose to use whole wheat flour from the Flour Peddler so I reduced the flour in the recipe just a little bit to account for this.  It came together nicely and was popped into the fridge to relax.

2) While the dough was relaxing I cubed the guanciale and allowed it to slowly render with the sprigs of thyme.  It smelled beautiful.  I also shelled my peas in anticipation of the grand cooking finale.

3) It came time to roll out the dough.  I had bought a book on pasta making earlier in the day and my instructions were to roll it out to the thickness of a piece of brown paper.  A piece of brown paper!!!  My goodness that seemed thin at the time.

I started to roll, and roll, and roll.  Every once in a while I picked the dough up and flipped it over, gently slapping it against the granite counter top.  Roughing it up a bit is good for the gluten development, think of it as giving your pasta character.  It was getting quite thin but wasn't as thin as my book said and here is where the first mistake occurred.  I started to panic.  My Dad was sitting at the dining room table doing some work and I became sure that he wanted to eat and was getting impatient (he wasn't, I was just getting anxious).  Mistake 1: I rushed the process...  Never rush the process. 

4) My too-thick pasta was dumped into the boiling water and promptly thickened up until it resembled flattened earth worms.  I guess I never realized how much pasta thickened up as it cooked until I made it myself.

5) As the pasta cooked (it only takes about 3 minutes) I had to work on the carbonara.  The peas had been added to the guanciale before the pasta went in so they would have time to soften (dump out some of the guanciale fat before adding the peas and make sure you give the peas a good amount of time to cook).

6) The parmesan was mixed with the eggs and whisked together.  Then about half a cup of pasta cooking water was slowly whisked into this mixture until it became smooth.  As I was doing this I anxiously watched the pasta cook and stirred it so it didn't all stick together.  Then the moment of truth and the secret to amazing carbonara (besides fantastic ingredients).

The pasta is whisked out of the boiling water and thrown in with the guanciale and peas.  The egg/cheese mixture is poured on top and the whole mess is gently tossed for only about a minute until it is shiny and beautiful!

Mistake 2: Never, never, never return a carbonara sauce to the heat once it is done because you fear the pasta is underdone.  It cooks the egg too much and becomes a lumpy mess.  Again, I panicked.  Honestly go for an undercooked pasta rather than an overcooked carbonara sauce, not to mention that an extra 30 seconds on the heat is not going to do much to your pasta anyways.

Panic is not a good ingredient in food.

The verdict: It tasted good.  The whole wheat flour lent a stronger taste to the pasta than regular white pasta but personally I don't mind when my food tastes like what it is.  It was definitely toothsome.  The carbonara was a bit lumpy because of my panicked overcooking but delicious nonetheless.  In the words of my father:  "Well, it's not a very pretty looking dish dear but it tastes good."

Thanks Dad.

End note: You are probably wondering why there are only two photos.  Carbonara, even the mess I made of it, doesn't leave much time for snapping photos.  It all happens in the blink of an eye and I am just not willing to sacrifice my end product for a photo.  Not to mention that by the time I was done I just wanted to sit down and eat, as did my father.

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Shonagh explores the guts of food in An Offal Experiment

Rendering Suet aka Makin' Lard

Suffice to say that I have a greater understanding of the scent of a medieval household after my first experience rendering suet.

I've been reading The Great Mortality by John Kelly, a riveting account of the black plague and how it wound its way through Europe in the 14th century.  Needless to say a key ingredient in its spread was the incredible filth of households in this period.  People bathed rarely and garbage (think dead animals, toilet offerings, rotten food) was strewn about the streets.  They also used lard or tallow in making candles.  According to Kelly, lard wasn't a preferred source of fuel because of the smell.

So let me get this straight.  People who were surrounded by rotting flesh and human excrement complained about the smell of burning lard.  How could this be?

Let me tell you.  It is a penetrating and murky smell.  Those familiar with the smell of their house after a deep fry session will have some idea, but rendering lard is worse.  It lacks the richness of cooking meat and the purity of cooking with vegetable oil.  It just smells heavy, and not in a good way.

I would like to think that I have a fairly strong stomach.  I mean I did saw open a sheep's head after all.  Despite the strength of my stomach, I will probably never render suet again.  But what inspired me to bother in the first place?  It was the pie competition.

According to the Joy of Cooking lard makes a "very tender crust (that) is best reserved for covered fruit pies" (p. 862).  Did I want a "very tender crust" and was I making a fruit pie?  Yes on both accounts.  I was sure that using lard would give me an upper hand on my competition.  With this in mind, I trotted to my butchers. 

Lo and behold they had bags of frozen suet, ground up and ready to go.  Luckily one of the butchers told me that I would need to render it before I used it for my pie.  Armed with this information and clutching my little bag of ground fat, I trot home, sure that I was about to have a pastry breakthrough.

Before getting started I decide to do a little research.  There is a wet method and a dry method of rendering fat.  The dry method is used during normal cooking - think of frying bacon and then using the wonderful extra fat to fry your eggs.  The wet method involves throwing, in my case, a big chunk of suet into a pot with water and letting it cook on low for hours.  As it cooks the fat melts out and can be poured off through a strainer. 

I didn't use a lot of water so the water had evaporated before I poured the fat off.  If you are using a lot of water then the fat can be skimmed off the top.  As this fat and water-filled mixture steams and bubbles away for hours your house will be filled with its distinctive odour.  I highly recommend closing all doors to bedrooms to prevent the smell from making friends with your clothing.

The rendered lard is quite beautiful, lily white and pure.  Its hard to believe that it came from a murky, flesh-colored pot of melting suet.  Once the process was complete (well to be honest, once I had rendered enough lard) I took my hot pot of suet off the stovetop and thanked the spirits that the process was over.

To ready myself for the pastry-making process (this was for my second test pie - the disastrous one) I froze the lard.  I grated the frozen lard into my flour, using butter for half the fat, finished my pastry, filled the pie and waited for ecstasy.  The pie was a disaster because I was experimenting (a combination of different recipes and my imagination) and miscalculated the cooking time.  Once my pie had "cooled" I realized that it wasn't hardening and in fact I had made strawberry soup pie.  Luckily I was still able to taste the lard-filled pastry on top.

The Verdict

It tastes like beef.  The texture was nice but the beefiness came through so strongly that it overpowered the delicate fruitiness of the filling.  Mmm strawberry-beef fat pie...  No, not so tasty.  It might work for a beef pie but even then I question the flavour the lard gave the pastry.  Some would call it the essence of being not tasty.  I have since read up more on lard and possibly, possibly will try pork fat in the future.  Emphasis on the possibly because I don't really want pork fat perfume wafting its way through my house.

Back to pure butter pastry for me!  I would love to hear if others use lard in their pastry?  Do you render it yourself or do you buy it from the butcher?  Do you use pork or beef?  Share your pastry and lard experiences.

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Shonagh explores the guts of food in An Offal Experiment

Johnny's! EPIC Guanciale Inspired Birthday Breakfast

It was my brother's birthday on June 2nd or 3rd (I always forget), which coincided perfectly with the curing of my pig cheek.  To celebrate his 26th birthday I decided to make an EPIC pork-filled breakfast and it was EPIC indeed.

First, about my brother.  We are five years apart (I'm older) but are really close friends - I think he's a pretty cool guy.  A former academic, he has given his life over to spoken word poetry and is rather good.  Our hang-outs often involve the spontaneous spouting of poetry so I get to be an early ear for his stuff, what fun!  You can check out one of his newest creations here.  He is the water bowler.

The Menu

• Guanciale Omelette
• Sweet Potato sauteed in Guanciale fat
• Guanciale fat topped Toast with a Grapefruit-Cranberry Marney

Whenever I plan a menu I always have a few focal ingredients that I like to use to tie the meal together.  For Johnny's! EPIC breakfast my focal ingredients are guanciale and thyme.  If you remember from Roman Bacon: Part 1, thyme was used to cure the pork cheek, so it was a natural choice.  Tying the meal together does not mean that thyme needs to be used in every dish though, I just used it with the sweet potato so it didn't overpower the real star.

Ingredients

• Guanciale - a large chunk, about 1/4 cup
• Sweet potato - 2 medium
• Eggs - 4
• Bread - I used
• Cranberries - 1/2 cup
• Grapefruit - 1
• White sugar - 1 tablespoon
• Honey - to taste
• Thyme - a couple sprigs
• Salt - a healthy amount

Directions

1) Start by scrubbing the sweet potatoes and then putting them straight on the oven rack and turn the oven on to 400 degrees F.  If you don't have anything protecting the bottom of your oven then you might want to put the potatoes on a tray because the sugar drips out as they bake and forms beautiful (but very hard to get off) black bubbles.  I eat a baked sweet potato every day so I just cover the bottom of my oven with tin foil and throw that out every few months.

Start to check your sweet potato at about 20 minutes by reaching into the oven and giving it a little squeeze.  Meltingly soft?  It's ready and should be taken out and allowed to cool.

2) As that is baking, put the cranberries in a heavy saucepan on medium and get to work peeling the grapefruit.  The marney is a combination of marmalade and chutney.  It's not sweet, it's not savoury, it's perfect.

Having said that, you can leave a bit of the pith (the white stuff) on your peel so just use a veggie peeler to get most of the peel off the grapefruit.  Slice into thin strips and add it to the cranberries.

 I cut the grapefruit open at this point and cut out most of the fruit (into chunks), throwing it in with the cranberries and peel.  Now add a good solid pinch of salt to the marney, because this cuts the bitterness of the grapefruit and cranberry.  Also add the white sugar.  Turn it up to medium-high and give it a good stir.  This will be cooking away as you finish the rest of the breakfast.  You can let it hard boil for a while making sure to check the consistency.  Once it reaches a nice thickness turn the heat down to low and just let it sit.  

3) It's time for the guanciale! Cut your chunk of guanciale into three pieces - one piece cubed and the other two into thin slices.  Heat a small (omelette-sized) saucepan for a few minutes, and toss in the cubed guanciale.  Let the fat render out and keep the heat to just below medium.  If it starts to smoke, take the pan off to let it cool down a little and then return it to the element.

Once the guanciale cubes have given up most of their fat and are looking crispy, take them off the heat and put them to the side and turn the heat down or off under your small saucepan.

4) As the cubed guanciale is rendering, one pile of guanciale slices should also be rendering with the sprigs of thyme in a large saucepan.  The heat and oil help to release the thyme essence.  Yummy.  Again, make sure the fat doesn't smoke!

Once the fat is rendered from the slices, take your sweet potatoes (now cool) and slice them in half.  Put the cut side down into the fat.  If you don't hear a sizzle then your pan isn't hot enough.  Sprinkle some salt and grind some pepper onto your potatoes and let them cook until they are golden brown.  Once they are done, take them out of the pan and pop them into the oven to keep them warm.

5) Using the sweet potato pan, render the last pile of guanciale slices.  As you are doing this, put the small saucepan back on the heat and start whisking the four eggs.  I find that if I whisk the eggs and then immediately pour them into the saucepan my omelette is ultra-fluffy!  I like ultra-fluffy.

Put your toast on when your omelette is close to done.

Don't overcook your omelette.  I tend to take mine off the heat when it is still slightly liquidy.  If it is left on too long then your eggs will get tough.  Tough eggs = a no no.

6) Now to put it all together!

Take your sweet potatoes out of the oven and onto the plate they go.

Cut the omelette in half and put it next to the potatoes.

Put the rendered fat slices on the toast and then pour, yes pour the rest of the fat onto the toast.  Smear a large dollop of the marney on top followed by a drizzle of honey.




Notes

• If you have skin on your jowl, you should remove it but put the fatty side down into the one of the sauce pans and melt the fat out of it.  Maximize your pig fat!
• Cut the potato into whatever size you want.  If you like crispiness then cut into smaller pieces and brown for longer. 

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Shonagh writes An Offal Experiment - exploring the guts of food

Roman Bacon: Part 2

The roman bacon was ready.

Unfortunately I had quite the time getting it out of my storage closet.  I have lived in my apartment building for seven years.  I have had a key to my storage closet kicking around solo for seven years.  I have never lost it, or misplaced it, ever.  When do I lose it?  Yeah, that's right when I have a pig cheek hanging from the ceiling.

First, I searched.  Nothing.  Second, I fretted.  That also did nothing.  Third, I posted an ad on craigslist looking for a lock pick.  Again, nothing.  Fourth, I attempted to pick the lock myself from the oh so useful collection of youtube videos on lock picking.  Can you guess? Nothing.  But, as I am attempting to pick the lock, I notice a gap at the top of the closet!  Is it possible?  Will the cheek fit through?  Eureka!  My pig cheek is rescued!

And then my love affair began...

I danced around my kitchen after unwrapping my guanciale, oohing and ahhing.  "My God, you are beautiful!" I exclaimed.  "Oh my Lord, I think you are luscious!"  I ran my fingers over the pork fat and it melted at my touch.  I felt like the poet Petrarch who wrote 366 poems to a woman he had only just glimpsed.

How will I feel once I taste it?

I have big plans for this guanciale.  A small piece is being used in the morning to make breakfast for my brother - it's his birthday.  It will also become pasta carbonara.  Having recently bought locally grown and milled flour I am also making the pasta.  This will be a meal to remember and a post to look out for.  My father might even get a chunk for father's day or at least a meal because I am not sure that he will know what to do with a piece of pig fat.  Subscribe to my blog to learn the fate of my little pig cheek.

"Those who danced were thought to be quite insane by those who could not hear the music."

  -Angela Monet

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Shonagh writes An Offal Experiment - exploring the guts of food

My Food Library: Odd Bits

I was signed up to volunteer the other day at the Grape Juice Wine Auction with Big Sister's at the Ferrari-Maserati dealership on Burrard.  I've been a Study Buddy with Big Sister's for five years and do whatever I can to help this organization raise money.  Arriving early for set-up I was told that they had enough volunteers so I had an hour to entertain myself before the event started.  What does a food lover do with a free hour when they are at 3rd and Burrard?  Anyone who lives in Vancouver knows that they visit Books to Cooks.

This was no idle visit, however; I knew what I was looking for - a book about offal. 

My experiments with organ meats so far have not gone well.  The internet is useful but not thorough and cobbling together random recipes has resulted in some questionable results (stinky beef kidney, overcooked goat heart, disgusting liver soup, rubber tire pork liver).  Because I'm trying to develop a taste for organ meats, eating bad organ meat is very counter-productive.  I needed a passionate expert to hold my hand and I found her in Jennifer Mclagan.

As soon as I stepped into Books to Cooks I was greeted warmly and within moments was ensconced at the book bar, piles of offal-centred books grew around me.  Being a student I'm very careful about spending my limited budget and after chuckling through a few pages I knew that Odd Bits fit my bill.  Within a few days I had almost finished reading it, bringing it with me on my weekend trip to Vancouver Island.  Who brings a cook book with them to read on vacation?  Guilty as charged and I unabashedly admit to relishing every page.

This book will be an incredibly valuable reference book and source of inspiration (see a future post on turkey neck soup, a delectable and meaty odd bit).  For anyone who is serious about expanding their palate and celebrating every part of the animal, Odd Bits is an essential addition to their food library.

Roman Bacon: Part 1

I first heard about guanciale on Chopped.  It was a secret ingredient and for some reason I decided to look it up.  Oh my goodness!  Luscious pig jowl washed with wine and scented with black pepper and thyme.  This was something I had to try.

The word guanciale comes from 'guancia', which means cheek in Italian.  The jowl is the lower part of the cheek, the part that droops down, all fatty-like.  Mmmmm...  Supposedly the taste of the jowl is intensely porky, I would imagine because it gets a good workout from the pig chewing all day.  I won't know for another couple weeks though, when my guanciale is ready.

To make the guanciale I cobbled together several different recipes (see my reference list down below).  My method relied on sensuality rather than strictness.

1. The first step: purchase the jowl.  I called my local butcher and they brought one in from Gelderman Farms.  It weighed about a pound and a half.  Once I arrived home, I unwrapped the butcher's paper and found a very fatty and very hairy piece of pig cheek.   Hmmm...  What to do with all this hair?  Rather than look it up, I decided that I would tweeze out all of the hairs.  Yeah, tweeze them out.  After tweezing for half an hour and making some but not a whole lot of progress I decided to leave it hairy (see notes).  I figured the salt and sugar and/or final cooking would disintegrate the hair and if not, I would either remove the skin or just eat the hair.

2. The second step: bathe the cheek in wine.  Not being a wine drinker I wasn't sure what kind of wine to buy.  White I decided, because I didn't want the pig flavour overwhelmed or the fat stained burgundy.  I chose the brand to inspire my guanciale process - Barefoot.  Any suggestions for better wines to choose are appreciated.  I massaged half of the bottle into the jowl, taking my time.  The beauty of home cooking, or one of many, is the ability to luxuriate over the process.  There is no head chef barking at me to finish with my cheek already or a customer distracting me with an order.  It's just me and my pig cheek and a bottle of wine on a sunny day in early spring.  Lovely.

3. The third step: cover with cure.  The cure recipes I found contained sugar, salt, thyme, and black pepper.  Normally I like to fiddle around with my spice combinations but not so with my guanciale.  It seemed like the spicing was the essence of the charcuterie, as if I couldn't call it guanciale without using the correct spices.  I used equal portions of salt and sugar, a solid amount of freshly ground black pepper and several sprigs of thyme (picked fresh from my garden).  All of this went into a ceramic dish with the jowl and was popped, covered, into the fridge.  It was supposed to be left for 5-7 days but mine got ten and was flipped half-way through.

4. The fourth step: rinse and hang.  The last step before I eat my cured cheek is to let it hang in a cool spot for at least three weeks.  Oh the patience it takes!  I decided to use my storage closet in the unheated basement of my apartment building.  While it doesn't have the sweet Mediterranean winds blowing through, it is cool and close so it will have to do.  I tied up my pig cheek in cheesecloth with a few extra sprigs of thyme tucked in.

Check back in a few weeks to see what happens or better yet subscribe to my blog!  Thanks for reading!

Notes:

• Learn more about the awesome anti-microbial power of thyme here!
• Since making my first batch of guanciale I have bought Odd Bits by Jennifer McLagan and now know to shave the pig skin with a disposable razor or burn it off with a propane torch.  I will probably shave it because I don't like the idea of taking a torch to my little piece of piggie.

References:

Guanciale
Guanciale, The Magical Roman Bacon
The Art of the Cure
Guanciale from Babbo

My first attempt at pancetta...

 Mmmm... a fresh slab of pig belly...  3 pounds worth

 The first coating of salt

 Doused in brown sugar, salt, coriander, black pepper, lemon peel and maybe other things...  I can't quite remember.

After its first week of curing.  I cut off a slab to give it a taste test before drying it.  Sweet, herby, quite delicious. 

It is now rolled in two pieces and sitting in my fridge giving up its moisture.  I will post more pictures once it is finished.