asian jewish deli

These buns are something I have made in the past, even before the Momofuku cookbook was released. Normally I make them with red-cooked pork belly, recipe courtesy of my friend Lorna, but for these ones I used the roasted pork belly from the ramen, a prime example of the versatility of these recipes.

You really can’t get much simpler than this: rub the pork belly with equal parts of sugar and kosher salt, let it cure for a few hours, then roast. David Chang has a good narrative in the book describing the reasoning behind his roasting technique, which involves high heat for a short period, followed by a low and slow oven until finished. (A tip if you are following the book, I recommend a rinsing of the salt/sugar mixture off pork belly before you roast it. The seasoning is fairly aggressive if you want to eat the belly on its own, and why wouldn’t you want to eat the belly on its own?)

A Momofuku inspired touch was the addition of a quick pickling to usually bare cucumber (pickling will be the subject of an upcoming post). To finish the bun: a dollop of hoisin, a slice or two of pork belly, two or three slices of pickled cucumber, and scallions. As for the steamed buns, there is a recipe in the book, but the frozen ones I buy are pretty good. Like with the noodles for ramen, the chef doesn’t want you to work too hard.

If you have…a Chinese bakery or restaurant where you can easily buy them, or even a well-stocked freezer section…I encourage you to exercise it without any pangs of guilt. How many sandwich shops bake their own bread? Right.

These are so simple and so good that it is really easy to eat three, four, or five of these buns without realizing. Chang describes these as an eleventh-hour addition to their menu, a throw away idea. They have since become Momofuku’s signature dish, and it is very easy to see why.

Ramen has a notable place in the Momofuku cookbook being the first picture in the book, the first recipe, and the subject of one of the first narrative stories. Fittingly, I chose ramen to be my first foray into the official-Momofuku-cookbook-world.

Making ramen stock is no more difficult than making any other kind of stock, but I can understand a Swanson canned broth user being intimidated by such a large amount of liquid simmering for hours on their stove. Is it worth it? Definitely.

As mentioned in the Momofuku introduction, this recipe is broken up into multiple sub-recipes, many of which could be optional, and all of which can be used in other recipes in the book (or eaten on their own). The only required elements are the broth, of course, and noodles. Did I make my own noodles? No. David Chang doesn’t mind. From the noodle recipe introduction:

But, and this is a big but, I really don’t think you need to track down alkaline salts or kansui and make these noodles…Substitute any other homemade pasta you like, or fresh lo mein, which you can buy in any half-respectable Asian food store or supermarket.

The other elements of ramen that I did make: roasted pork belly, pickled bamboo shoots, and slow-poached eggs. In upcoming posts I’ll talk about how the pork belly can be used in buns, how the bamboo shoots can be used on a pickle plate, and really, how can’t a runny poached egg be used? The raw ingredients used in the broth itself are also not wasted—spent shiitakes were pickled, chicken was shredded (to be served both in the ramen and on its own with ginger-scallion sauce, also from the book), blanched bacon was fried up.

As for the flavor, my only real benchmark for ramen comes from Samurai Noodle here in Seattle and it sets a fairly high standard. The Momofuku ramen comes close enough that adding in the homemade factor sends it to the top of the chart. The ramen broth is not as in-your-face as Samurai, leaving a lot of room for complexity and subtlety from the layers of ingredients used to make it. It has great mouthfeel, owing to the pork neck bones and a nice smokiness from the bacon, all on top of heavy umami from the konbu and shiitake.

For this recipe, the cost of ingredients is pretty low and the time investment is mostly inactive. Pull out your biggest stock pot, throw it all in, and put on Tampopo while you’re waiting. The $0.10 packet of Top Ramen will be history!

The first time I attempted pulled pork I made the mistake of starting it in the morning and inviting friends over for dinner in the early afternoon. After delaying dinner for a couple hours I was forced to extract the pork from the smoker far before it was ready, resulting in more of a sliced pork than pulled pork. Personal disappointment ensued and I made a quiet vow to never make that mistake again.

This summer I was determined to try again, correcting my previous mistakes. I bought two pork shoulders, about 11 pounds total. They were dry rubbed with my favorite pork rub and left overnight. The next morning I fired up my Bradley smoker with hickory, maple, and apple wood, put the pork in and left to go see the Sounders vs Chelsea match. Throughout the game I worried about the pork; would the smoker get too hot? Would the wind blow out the flame? Would it finish on time? (Oh yeah, I had committed to bringing it to a party the next day. After my first go around at pulled pork, this might not have been the best idea.)

My Bradley smoker is a champ, able to hold a steady temperature overnight with no intervention, so I needn’t have worried about it for the few hours I was gone. The hours ticked by while the temperature of the pork very slowly rose. 11 hours after it started, the pork plateaued at 160 degrees. When smoking meat, it is common for the internal temperature to appear to stick at 160, and even drop a couple degrees, for several hours. It is during this critical time that the internal fat and collagen converts to gelatin, creating that unctous, lip-smacking quality in good barbecue.

Finally at 3:00 in the morning, 18 hours after it went into the smoke, the pork was ready to be pulled. I stood in my kitchen, too tired and hungry to care about scalding my fingers, pulling 190 degree pork shoulder into moist, smoky, fatty shreds. The pork had a delicious smoke ring about half an inch deep, and a caramelized, crusty bark exterior.

I paired the pork with a homemade South Carolina-style mustard barbecue sauce and potato rolls. All who tried the pork declared it a tasty success, and despite the time commitment involved, I will definitely be making more pulled pork again.

If you have ever dined with me, you probably have heard me complain about the sad state of the factory pork that is available in most groceries these days. While you can usually find decently marbled pork shoulder and belly, I am always disappointed whenever I look for a nice fatty pork loin.

When I do buy pork loin (like this week on sale for $1.99/lb), I usually slice it thin, pound it even thinner, crust it in panko, and pan fry for great tonkatsu. About a year ago, after making some duck confit I wanted to use all that duck fat that was already out for something, so I dropped in a piece of pork loin. What came out was amazing! Slowly cooking the lean pork in duck fat took it from a bland, boring cut to another level.

To start the process, the loin spends 48 hours in a cure containing salt, pink salt, bay, sage, parsley, garlic, and other herbs.

I’ll be back once the pork is cured and ready for the delicious duck fat!

Oh yeah, I made a red velvet cake with bourbon cream cheese frosting using Lorna’s awesome recipe. Check it out here.