Winter Warmth: Fennel-Braised Pork Belly Stew

My husband makes bacon. So we go through a fair amount of pork belly in year's time, even when we're doing 12 to 14 pounds at a time. (Our friends are often happy recipients, and between trips to the beach and summer camping with big groups, we can go through a lot.) The thing is, he likes to square off the sometimes-raggedy ends of the bellies before curing them, which means there are several odd chunks of belly that pile up in the freezer.

Browning the belly.

Rummaging through the freezer the other day, I realized we had accumulated close to three pounds of these frozen ends, including recent trimmings from some gorgeous Joyce Farms pork belly, whose regenerative agricultural practices are beyond impressive. So I began scouring through online recipes that didn't require hours of prep time or, heaven forfend, a trip to the store.

Luckily I'd picked up a couple of bulbs of fennel at the farmers' market, and when I saw a fennel-braised belly from Mario Batali on the list, I gave it a look. In typical Batali fashion (don't get me started) it was packed with loads of over-the-top spicing—three tablespoons of chopped rosemary plus three tablespoons of ground fennel seeds in the rub, then another tablespoon of ground fennel seeds in the braise. Really, Mario?

Greatly reducing the amount of ground fennel and cutting the rosemary by a third balanced out the flavors and avoided what could have been a bitter aftertaste in the braise. Oh, and the finished bacon? Spectacular, as always.

Fennel-braised Pork Belly Stew

For the rub:
1/2 c. brown sugar
1 Tbsp. fennel seeds, toasted and ground
3 Tbsp. salt
2 Tbsp. fresh rosemary, finely chopped
2 tsp. red pepper flakes

For the braise:
2 Tbsp. olive oil
3 lbs. pork belly (skinless)
2 bulbs fennel
2 carrots, quartered and sliced crosswise into 1/2” pieces
1 onion, chopped in 1/2” dice
4 cloves garlic, roughly chopped
1 12-oz. bottle beer (amber or not-too-hoppy winter ale is great)
Salt to taste

To make the rub, toast fennel seeds in a small pan over medium-high heat, moving the pan back and forth to keep them moving, until they just start to color and smell wonderful. (You want to avoid any smoke, which indicates burning.) Remove from heat, cool slightly and grind in spice grinder. (We have an inexpensive electric coffee grinder dedicated to grinding spices.) In a small bowl, combine with remaining rub ingredients and stir.

Cut 1/2” deep, diagonal grid into both sides of the pork belly. Cover both sides with spice rub.

Heat olive oil over medium-high heat in large Dutch oven until it shimmers. Add pork belly and sear on both sides. Remove to plate when well-browned. Add onions to pot and sauté until translucent, scraping up browned bits from searing the belly. Add garlic until it is warmed and fragrant. Add remaining vegetables and seared pork belly. Pour beer over the top, bring to a boil and reduce heat to simmer. Cover and cook for 1 1/2 to 2 hrs. Adjust salt to taste as necessary.

If you like, you can chop the nearly-falling-apart belly into biggish chunks before serving. I served it with roasted slices of garnet yam, but next time I'm going to give Hank Shaw’s squash dumplings (without the mushrooms) a try; you could make them while the stew cooks.

A Brilliant (If Random) Solution For Dinner

I've already confessed to being a cookbook addict, with shelves of titles from well-known authors like Diana Kennedy, James Beard, Marcella Hazan and Betty Crocker. Then there are those that cover cuisines ranging from Moroccan to Chinese to Latin American, and more that focus on a technique like pickling or grilling.

And then, of course, there's the internet, with millions of recipes available at the stroke of a few keys. But, honestly, some of our best meals have come from random rummaging in the fridge and the pantry for something…anything…to make for (yet another) dinner.

For example, the other evening I'd spent far too long bouncing around on Facebook or Twitter, trying to keep up with the endless conversations and very important links to the latest cat-in-a-box videos. Then I heard Dave's truck drive up outside and thought, Holy crap! Dinner!

I ran to the fridge like some demented TV housewife, hoping that somewhere in it would be the solution to my family's evening repast. Now, it's not like anyone at our house gets bent out of shape having scrambled eggs or leftovers for dinner, but I do feel a certain obligation to put an at-least-decent meal on the table.

After a few minutes I'd found a bulb of fennel and some spring onions from the farmers' market, and with chicken broth made from our last grilled roaster and some rice from the pantry, I had my answer. One that I think Di, Jimmy, Marcella and Betty would approve of!

Roasted Fennel and Spring Onion Risotto

1 fennel bulb, chopped
1 large spring onion or leek, chopped
3 Tbsp. olive oil, divided
1 Tbsp. butter or margarine
1 Tbsp. garlic, minced
2 c. arborio rice
1 tsp. fennel seed
1 tsp. tarragon
1/2 c. dry white wine or dry vermouth
4 1/2 c. chicken stock
Zest of 1 lemon
Juice of 1 lemon
1 c. parmesan
Salt and pepper to taste
Fennel fronds, chopped fine, for garnish (optional)

Preheat oven to 400°.

Toss chopped fennel and onion in 1 Tbsp. olive oil and a sprinkling of salt. Place in small roasting pan and roast for 20 minutes or until vegetables are slightly brown on the edges and tender.

Over medium to medium-high heat, melt 2 Tbsp. oil and butter in medium saucepan. When it's bubbling, add garlic and heat briefly, then add rice to pan and stir till heated, about 1-2 minutes. Add fennel, tarragon and wine and stir until the liquid is absorbed. Add stock a ladle at a time, stirring after each addition until it is absorbed into the rice. After second ladle of stock, add the roasted vegetables. Continue ladling the rest of the stock, and when rice is still toothy, remove from heat. Add lemon zest, juice and parmesan and stir. Salt and pepper to taste, then garnish with fennel fronds, if desired, and serve.

Lady in Waiting

While I'm waiting (and waiting and waiting) for my presumed tomatoes to ripen, I sometimes need to pump a little of that tomatoey goodness into a meal just to whet my appetite for the real flavor that is surely in my future. (It is, right?)

This dish was fortuitous convergence of a sale on cod in a nearby fish case, a half-pint of cherry tomatoes from a neighbor who was leaving on vacation (yes, I am not ashamed to say we accept donations of leftover food), a bulb of fennel and volunteer mustard greens a neighbor was cleaning out of her garden. Sounded like dinner to me!

Cod with Fennel, Cherry Tomatoes and Mustard Greens

2 Tbsp. olive oil plus additional for cooking fish
1/2 onion, cut in half and sliced
2-3 cloves garlic, minced
1 bulb fennel, cut in half and sliced
1/2 pint or more cherry tomatoes, halved
1 bunch mustard greens
Salt and pepper to taste
1 cod fillet, cut in 1 1/2" slices

Heat oil in oven-proof skillet. When it shimmers, add onions and garlic and sauté till translucent.* Add fennel and sauté till tender, then throw in cherry tomatoes and when they start to break down and release their juices, add greens and cook till wilted and tender. Remove tomato mixture to bowl and cover to keep warm.

Heat oven to 350°. Wipe out skillet and heat additional oil till very hot but not smoking. Add slices of fish and brown on one side. Flip over to other side, then add tomato mixture back into pan. Put pan in oven for 10 minutes or until fish is cooked through. To serve, spoon tomato mixture onto individual plates and top with slice of fish and a fennel frond.

* If one were so inclined, three anchovies could be added at this point and allowed to dissolve just before sautéing the fennel. Yum!

My Damascene Moment

Like Paul of Tarsus on his fateful journey to Damascus, there I was, just walking the dog on our usual route up the hill, throwing in a set of stairs to get some cardio. Unlike Paul, I had my feet on solid ground so wasn't knocked off my horse and blinded when the revelation hit. And, truth be told, my bombshell was of a more pedestrian variety.

The clouds had parted, the rays from the sun shone down and it was revealed to me what we were going to have for dinner. Yes, dinner. Thus, instead of running out to preach the gospel, I jumped in Chili and ran to the store, because in that miraculous moment of inspiration I saw…meatloaf.

Now if that seems like a let-down in the pantheon of revelation stories, perhaps even showing a slight lack of imagination on the part of the revelatee, let me tell you that when you're the person responsible for making your family dinner every night, you're happy for any and all inspirations, holy or otherwise.

And the result? As you can see from the photo above, it was moist, meaty and oh-so-satisfying, and went perfectly with the mashers and salad served alongside. And the songs of praise from the assembled throng (well, Dave and our son and the dogs, anyway) was heavenly, indeed.

Fennel and Kale Meatloaf

2 Tbsp. oil
1 onion, chopped
3 cloves garlic, chopped fine
4 anchovy filets
1 bulb fennel, chopped into 1/4" dice
2 c. kale, sliced into chiffonade
1 lb. hamburger
1 lb. ground pork
1 egg
1/2 c. milk
1/2 c. bread crumbs
1 tsp. salt
1/4 tsp. pepper
1 Tbsp. chopped fresh herbs (or 1-2 tsp. dried) like cilantro, oregano, basil or whatever strikes your fancy

Preheat oven to 350°.

Heat oil in skillet and sauté onion and garlic till transparent. Add anchovies and sauté till filets dissolve. Add fennel and sauté till tender. Add kale and continue sautéing till wilted. Remove to flat pie plate and chill in refrigerator while you prepare the meat mixture.

Combine ground meat, egg, milk, bread crumbs, salt, pepper and herbs in large mixing bowl. Combine thoroughly with spoon, fork or your hands (don't squish it but keep your fingers open like a fork…you want a loose mixture, not a solid mass). Add chilled vegetable mix and combine. Hand-form into loaf on roasting pan. Bake 45 min.-1 hr. until instant-read thermometer inserted in thickest part reads between 140-150° (cookbooks all say 160°, but I find that results in drier meatloaf, so you decide for yourself). Remove from oven, tent with foil and allow to rest for 15-20 min. while you mash potatoes and make the salad. Slice and serve.

Farm Bulletin: Farming al Fresco…in Winter?

I wouldn't say that contributor Anthony Boutard or his wife, Carol, are contrary, exactly. The successful practices they've developed at Ayers Creek Farm in Gaston are hard-won and have involved years of trial and error. But if the way they do things flies in the face of convention, so be it. Sidelong glances and heads shaking at their foolish ways isn't going to change a thing. Get a taste of their unique approach to farming at the Hillsdale Farmers' Market as it moves into its twice-a-month winter schedule through April.

A few years ago, we answered a call from somebody associated with the OSU Extension Service. They had heard we sell greens and other vegetables all through the winter. The person was putting together a panel on "season extension" and wanted to know if we would sit on the panel. After hearing an amiable "yes," she asked us what sort of season extension we used. We explained that the most important factor was the latitude in which the crop was developed. We farm at the 45th parallel, so we look for crops adapted to that latitude or higher. Crops adapted to lower latitudes tend to bolt, or go to flower, prematurely—flowering crops lose their ability to resist freezing. Having a deep selection of winter crop varieties (top photo) gives us greater flexibility in harvest times. Finally, we explained that we supplemented the cultivated crops with the feral greens in our cane fields and orchards.

Fennel flowers.

After listening to this explanation, the caller asked again what we did for season extension. Did we use greenhouses, high tunnels or cold frames? We explained that it seems crazy to buy a bunch plastic structures when the Willamette Valley has the ideal climate for field-grown vegetables. A vegetable growing in the open air is denser and has better flavor and nutrition. Moreover, the idea of needing to water in the winter seems odd. Unimpressed, she explained that the panel organizers wanted farmers who used actual structures rather than planning and variety selection. The conversation ended on that note.

Today, as we harvested the fennel in the gusty squalls, it was fun to watch the trimmed fronds bounce across the field like tumbleweeds. Then, as the late afternoon gloom and chill gathered, the idea of harvesting beneath a canopy of plastic developed a bit more allure. Nonetheless, a salad of fennel grown in the drenching rain and whatever sun the valley can muster restored good sense and banished any doubts. There is full, robust quality to a field-grown vegetable that cannot be had from one coddled in plastic, protected from our nourishing rains.

Curious About Quinoa

Believe it or not, the cookbook that started me on my quest to break out of my starch rut (Potatoes, rice or pasta?) was written by some nutty group that believed that life on earth began with vacationing extraterrestrials. A gift from a well-intentioned friend, it was, as I recall, mostly if not completely vegetarian, and had some great recipes for using whole grains.

What grains had to do with our intergalactic origins I never quite figured out and the book has long since been purged from our shelves, but I was reminded of it the other day when I had a warm quinoa salad that our neighbor Susana had made.

Originally grown by the Incas, uncooked quinoa (pron. KEEN-wah) looks like tiny brick-red seeds that, after washing and cooking, have a faintly nutty flavor with a bit of crunch. It seems to combine especially well with vegetables and could be served warm or cold, and was perfect for an early summer backyard picnic. And no, no UFOs were sighted.

Quinoa, Fennel and Cherry Tomato Salad

1 c. quinoa, rinsed and drained
1 bulb fennel, halved, trimmed and sliced
1 red onion, chopped fine
1 pt. cherry tomatoes, halved
Several chive stems and flowers for garnish
1 c. house vinaigrette

Bring 2 cups water to boil, add quinoa and reduce heat to bare simmer, cooking until all the water is absorbed. Rinse in cold water and drain to stop cooking. Place in mixing bowl and add other ingredients, pouring in the vinaigrette and stir to combine. Chill or serve at room temperature.