What
to with a long Memorial Day weekend? I fancied taking the opportunity
to chain myself to the kitchen in front of a large AC unit and whirring
fan for 3 days, rolling up my sleeves and really getting down to some
serious cooking. But what would I cook? I considered something unusual
seeing as I had plenty of time on my hands. A trip to Chinatown might
be cool, they are well known for selling 'weird' shit. As I jumped on
the F train north to East Broadway I was imagining some crisply cooked
goose, maybe something big and bloody to throw on the barbie, or
perhaps a medley of seafood, shellfish and lots of sauce Vierge or
tarragon butter. In the blistering heat, I headed from the subway west
along Canal, enjoying the bustle of one of NY's busiest streets.
What
was once part of a thriving Italian community, Mott Street, north off
Canal, is now festooned with Chinese markets, most of them selling
green produce or fresh fish. I did poke around in a few shops, eyeing
the bored looking fish in tanks and oggling feisty lobsters in glass
cages vying for space. One shop had a bucket outside full of live
frogs, and I thought at one moment I might make some golden fried
grenouille. But I just wasn't feeling the fish or amphibia, and I
stumbled back south across Canal to Bayard Street, home of some solid
butcher shops. I headed straight for Bayard Meat Market, a first rate
and incredibly low cost meat vendor. I saw some pork loin, which I
thought could be a great thing to barbecue, but it looked a bit 'wet'
and that turned me off. They had some virtuous beef fillets also, but I
denied their presence in the shopping trolley as I'd been eating a lot
of cow as of late. I couldn't resist purchasing some of those splendid
little red sausages called lop cheung, and piled high next to
these were some salted duck legs. I'd never even seen these things
before so they went in the bag too, for consumption at a later date or
raw on the subway home. I was also tempted by the dried quail, but I
had no idea what I would do with that. I paid the nice lady at the till
a dn headed out again into the hot sun. I was very tempted to duck into
one of the many noodle shops for a chilled beer and some pig knuckles
to chew on, but I remained focused and I promised myslef suitable
rewards when my main task was completed.
When I hit the
junction of Bayard and Elizabeth, I spotted a butcher I hadn't seen
before. The plastic sign was peeling off the brick, but I could make
out the words 'Han May Meat'. An old Chinese woman manned the counter
and bid me good day in Chinese (I think) as I entered. My eyes flicked
down to the counter to see if here I could buy anything worthy of a
long weekend's attentions. And holy shit, did I find it. Resting near
the back, in 2 quart containers, I found pig's blood! Finding this had
been a personal quest of mine. Numerous Google searches had produced
nothing and pleading calls to my local Brooklyn meat emporiums had
yielded nothing to date. I couldn't get my wallet out fast enough.
The
bucket of blood had a pink stained label on it reading $2. What a
fucking bargain. As I paid, I also saw a sign in Chinese and English,
thankfully, advertising caul fat. Now that can be tough to locate too,
so I had a bag of that, for something a la crepinette. There
was no doubt, I was in the zone now and feeling a swell of bravado I
also asked her for one of the large plump-looking rear pigs trotters.
My mind was racing with the possibilities. Black pudding! Crispy
stuffed pig's feet! Meaty stuff wrapped in fat! YES! I think all in all
I spent about $8. Incredible, no?
My reward came in the form of two hastily quaffed Kronenbourgs, from the cold beaded bar taps at Les Enfants Terribles
on Canal Street, where Chinatown turns into the LES, and right next to
my F train stop. It was a welcome break from the heat and I now know 2
placed in NYC that have my favourite beer on tap. The music was prety
good too, and a brief glance at the menu looked interesting. Perhaps a
visit to sample to the food would be a good idea.
I knew my
huge trotter would need bathing for 24 hours, so I chucked it in a big
pail of water when I got home and, sweating, I rounded up the
ingredients for a full-bodied, rich and devillishly porky black
pudding. I scoured my cookbook collection for suitable recipes. My
first stop was Fergus Henderson's incredible 'The Whole Beast - Nose To Tail Eating'. He calls it blood cake and dishes up the pudding with fried eggs. I did look at two others also for further inspiration. The Bible contained countless variations for black pudding/boudin noir and I also thumbed through porn-heavy Boulevard and
found a sound variation by an Irish chap called John Desmond. His BP
recipe used a 7 cup dish for the final baking. I did have a 7-cup
terrine dish by Pyrex so it seemed that my weights and measures should
match the Boulevard recipe roughly, but I did make lots of
substitutions.
