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I do have a thing for making things from scratch: call it the purist in me. If I had my way I would be making my own cheese from milk I squeezed from the cow's udder myself. I dream about that kind of closeness to the source, especially when it comes to food.
Unfortunately, I don't live in Laguna, and I'm not confident that I won't poison myself if I do attempt a long-term fermentation project such as cheese-making. Purist I am, but foolish I am not. At least I'd like to think so. =) Some things, one should just buy from the store. Like cheese perhaps, or wild mushrooms, certainly. The selection of ingredients available in Metro Manila has certainly increased in the recent years, due to the rise of the specialty food shop.
That said, I have no good reason to be making pancetta, aside from curiosity and my compulsive nature. =D
I only loosely call it pancetta, because most recipes call for a whole lot more in terms of the spice rub, juniper berries included. I do not know any purveyors of juniper berries in my area, but a friend did suggest dousing the meat in gin for the flavor. It could work, but I was also afraid that the alcohol in the gin would denature the proteins in the meat, leading to the gray, pasty nilagang baboy look. I like nilagang baboy as much as the next person, but pancetta it is not.
I decided to go for the minimalist version instead, rubbing the meat (I used a kilo of whole pork belly to start with) with copious amounts of salt, pepper and minced garlic. Traditionally, the belly is then tightly rolled into a cigar shape, then hung out to dry. Since I had a mortal fear of food poisoning, I decided to do this drying step in the refrigerator instead. I placed the meat on a rack, so that it was kept off the juices that the salt inevitably leached out by osmosis.
After about three weeks of curing in the refrigerator, I was impatient as hell. I was not really worried about the meat going bad at this point because I added enough salt and garlic to keep off a horde of aswang, much less a few bacteria. Besides, it did smell good: very garlicky and pungent. The cross-section looked about right as well. The meat kept its red color, and the fat remained a creamy white. Though not as dry as commercially-available pancetta, my faux version did not have the raw meat feel: it had the consistency of American bacon when sliced, which was what I was looking for.
The ultimate test, of course, is the taste test.
One classic recipe that uses pancetta is Pasta all'Amatriciana. The sauce is the simplest thing, just tomatoes spiked with a little pancetta. I cooked mine with some sauteed onions, siling labuyo, and a chiffonade of basil on top, just to fancy it up a little.
At this point, I could bombard you with raves on how good the spaghetti was, but you might not believe me. It's one of those no-brainer dishes that almost does not need a recipe (I'll write up one anyway, just for documentation). Eating this pasta is a three step experience: first comes the salt and heat from the pancetta and the red chili, that strong first impression; next comes the mellow umami from the meat itself and the cheese; last comes an almost floral aftertaste, which I suspect is from the basil, but may also be from the pancetta itself.
Overall, its one of those dishes you would want to have on a cold day: spicy, warming and substantial.
Spaghetti all'Amatriciana (for two)
a bunch of spaghetti (about two inches in diameter)
4 thin slices of pancetta, cubed
2 pieces bird's eye chili (siling labuyo)
1/2 of a large onion, chopped
2/3 cup canned diced tomatoes
salt for the pasta water
4 basil leaves, sliced into strips
grated hard cheese, to taste
Start the water boiling first, enough to completely submerge the pasta. Only after it comes to a boil is the salt added (remember colligative properties! XD). I add a lot--enough to make the water taste briny. After that, the spaghetti is added. I wouldn't want angel hair with this because the sauce is quite robust, but if you like it, by all means use angel hair.
While the pasta is cooking, start on the sauce. Crisp up the pancetta cubes, then add the onion and crushed chili. (Don't add this much chili if your tolerance for heat is low. On a related note, the addition of chili might put this pasta a little more in the Arrabiata territory than in the Amatriciana. If so, forgive my error in nomenclature.) When the onions are soft, add the tomatoes. Simmer.
By the time the sauce is done, the pasta should also be done. Transfer the pasta to the pan with the sauce and toss briefly to coat. If it is a bit dry, add a ladle of the pasta water. Toss in the basil leaves. Serve with a bit of grated cheese on top. Enjoy with water and a piece of bread to soak up the sauce.
The ultimate test, of course, is the taste test.
One classic recipe that uses pancetta is Pasta all'Amatriciana. The sauce is the simplest thing, just tomatoes spiked with a little pancetta. I cooked mine with some sauteed onions, siling labuyo, and a chiffonade of basil on top, just to fancy it up a little.
At this point, I could bombard you with raves on how good the spaghetti was, but you might not believe me. It's one of those no-brainer dishes that almost does not need a recipe (I'll write up one anyway, just for documentation). Eating this pasta is a three step experience: first comes the salt and heat from the pancetta and the red chili, that strong first impression; next comes the mellow umami from the meat itself and the cheese; last comes an almost floral aftertaste, which I suspect is from the basil, but may also be from the pancetta itself.
Overall, its one of those dishes you would want to have on a cold day: spicy, warming and substantial.
Spaghetti all'Amatriciana (for two)
a bunch of spaghetti (about two inches in diameter)
4 thin slices of pancetta, cubed
2 pieces bird's eye chili (siling labuyo)
1/2 of a large onion, chopped
2/3 cup canned diced tomatoes
salt for the pasta water
4 basil leaves, sliced into strips
grated hard cheese, to taste
Start the water boiling first, enough to completely submerge the pasta. Only after it comes to a boil is the salt added (remember colligative properties! XD). I add a lot--enough to make the water taste briny. After that, the spaghetti is added. I wouldn't want angel hair with this because the sauce is quite robust, but if you like it, by all means use angel hair.
While the pasta is cooking, start on the sauce. Crisp up the pancetta cubes, then add the onion and crushed chili. (Don't add this much chili if your tolerance for heat is low. On a related note, the addition of chili might put this pasta a little more in the Arrabiata territory than in the Amatriciana. If so, forgive my error in nomenclature.) When the onions are soft, add the tomatoes. Simmer.
By the time the sauce is done, the pasta should also be done. Transfer the pasta to the pan with the sauce and toss briefly to coat. If it is a bit dry, add a ladle of the pasta water. Toss in the basil leaves. Serve with a bit of grated cheese on top. Enjoy with water and a piece of bread to soak up the sauce.
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