Pork Shoulder

The great Georgia humorist Roy Blount Jr. once joked, “Brunswick stew is what happens when small mammals carrying ears of corn fall into barbecue pits.” The origin of this thick stewed concoction is debatable, but most trace it back to 1828 in Brunswick, Georgia. Brunswick stew is a thick vegetable stew with shredded meat that is cooked over low heat in a large pot. Traditionally, it was made from squirrel or sometimes rabbit, and it has always been a popular way for hunters to make a complete meal from their wild game. Today, Brunswick stew is popular across the Southeast, although the squirrel and rabbit are generally replaced with pork, chicken, and beef. The vegetables might include corn, onions, tomatoes, beans, squash, or okra. Often it is the feast for large gatherings, festivals, and fund-raisers.

Some of my favorite times away from Big Bob Gibson’s have been spent learning the secrets of jerk barbecue in Jamaica. The cooking techniques and flavors of this wonderful Caribbean island are truly unique and magnificent. Scotch bonnet peppers, allspice, onions, garlic, and pimento-wood smoke make Jamaica a barbecue destination. By using these same Caribbean flavors on a pork picnic, which is the lower portion of a pig’s shoulder, authentic Jamaican Jerk can be made at home. If you are lucky enough to visit Jamaica, be sure to get out of the cities and locate any of the well-known jerk shacks scattered over the island. Most Jamaican barbecue joints contain two open-air barbecue pits, one for chicken and another for pork. Cooking pork on the chicken pit is strictly prohibited. A cooking grate made from pimento-wood logs laid side by side is placed directly over a bed of pimento-wood coals; to keep the wood grate from burning, the pitmaster hand turns each log every hour, and the pork or chicken on the cooking grate is covered with a thin sheet of corrugated metal. This simplest of cookers proves that it is not the sophistication of the cooker but the knowledge of the cook that produces the best ’Q! In 2003, my wife, Amy, and I went to Jamaica to cook in the International Jamaican Jerk Style/Southern Barbecue Cook-Off. Cooking teams from all over the world, including Switzerland, Puerto Rico, Germany, England, the United States, and Jamaica, competed in the event. Each team was given the same raw ingredients: two barrel grills, two chickens, two slabs of ribs, two pork butts, and two red snappers. The chickens were fresh and free range. I use the term “free range” with a bit of sarcasm because these beauties were muscled-up and tough. When holding the ribs up to the sky, beams of sunlight penetrated this thin cut of meat (Jamaican ribs: SPF 15). The cut of pork was unlike any I had ever seen. It contained a portion of the shoulder and of the neck, and it even had four ribs attached. Nonetheless, we were all on an even playing field—or grill. We had eighteen hours to prepare our entries and serve them to a group of judges comprised of an equal number of Jamaican and international judges. A “blind” judging procedure was used to score each category. By combining local jerk flavors with cooking techniques learned back home at Big Bob’s, we captured the Grand Championship.

When you have a craving for pulled pork but a whole shoulder is more meat than you need, the pork butt is your best option. The butt is not the rear end of a pig but the upper portion of the shoulder. This six- to eight-pound cut is usually well marbled and holds up well during long cooks. Most competition barbecue teams select the pork butt when going for the blue ribbon in the pork category because it has more marbling than the picnic portion of the shoulder and is more easily manageable on the grill than the entire shoulder. I created this recipe for a huge neighborhood block party in Birmingham, Alabama. There are only two things that go together better than a barbecue block party and Birmingham, and that is peaches and pork. If you are ever invited to a barbecue in Alabama, pack your overnight bag.

The whole pork shoulder is exactly that, a hog’s entire front haunch. The average shoulder weighs sixteen to twenty pounds and is the shape of a large shoe box. The shoulder is comprised of two different cuts: the “picnic,” which is the lower portion and includes the leg bone, and the “butt,” which is the top of the shoulder, including the blade bone. In the barbecue world, restaurant cooking is different from competition cooking. A restaurant customer expects to enjoy a full plate of barbecue and to enjoy the last bite as much as the first. Judges at competitions, on the other hand, usually taste only a bite or two for each entry they are served. If your meat doesn’t grab the judges’ taste buds and make them whimper with pleasure, the blue ribbon is history. In fact I once heard a master barbecue judge say, “You can’t win with good eatin’ barbecue.” It is very difficult to walk the fine line between good eatin’ and good scorin’ ’Q, but this recipe does it. It takes the base flavors and cooking techniques that Big Bob Gibson always used in his restaurant and amplifies them for competition. We add a seasoning blend to enhance the flavor of the bark—the outside crust of the meat—and we use injection to increase the moisture in the pork and permeate the meat throughout with flavorings. We use the same vinegar-based sauce that Big Bob created in the early 1920s to finish the shoulder. These modifications resulted in six straight first place finishes at the Memphis in May World Championship Barbecue Cooking Contest in the pork shoulder category, an added victory at the Jack Daniel’s World Championship Invitational Barbecue, and a first place at the largest barbecue contest in the world, the American Royal.

This recipe is based on a Cuban sandwich traditionally made with roast pork, ham, pickles, Swiss cheese, and mustard. We start with the same main ingredient—the pork. It can be a loin, a ham, even a shoulder, but it should be roasted so that it retains some texture. Then we ratchet things up. In place of the ham, we have coppa, which comes from the neck of the pig and is cured and dried like prosciutto. Standing in for the pickle, we have a pickled pepper relish. The sugar in the recipe cuts through the spiciness and acidity, rounding out the flavors in the relish. Instead of the Swiss cheese in a Cuban, we use fontina. We press the sandwich just as you would a Cuban, and presto! We have what we have nicknamed the Cubano-Italiano.

While there are twelve or thirteen sandwiches in this book that Tom calls “my absolute favorite,” this one truly is Sisha’s. We use the pork shoulder, a very flavorful cut that benefits from slow cooking—so slow, in fact, that we set the oven on the lowest setting and leave the pork cooking overnight, which breaks down the textures, develops the flavors, and renders a lot of the fat. For the amount of meat called for in this recipe, you can get the same great texture and flavor in about four hours. This recipe has its origin in pork barbecue, which is often served with coleslaw. The cabbage in our sandwich—a nod to that side of slaw—is seasoned with olive oil and red wine vinegar. It is assertive and acidic, balancing the richness of the pork, while the jalapeños add a nice kick. Peppers vary in intensity—sometimes two slices are more than plenty while sometimes eight won’t be enough—so be sure to taste-test yours before layering them on.

Pat: Black-eyed peas, simmered with fatty pork (such as ham hocks or bacon), have been a staple in the South for hundreds of years. Inexpensive, easy to grow, and easy to store, they provide protein and nourishment and, many believe, good fortune (which is why eating black-eyed peas on New Year’s Day is a Southern tradition). Some even eat greens, meant to symbolize money, alongside of them. Don’t worry if at the end of the cooking process these beans seem a little watery. To cream them up, mash the beans against the side of the pot with the back of a spoon, or purée a cup of them in the blender and add them back in. These black-eyed peas are great poured over warm cornbread, and are a perfect side with grilled or fried pork chops.

This meat filling is similar to the one for cannelloni on page 165. You can use them interchangeably.

I always roast meats by adding some liquid to the roasting pan first, then allowing it to cook away and the meat to brown. The aromatic steam penetrates the meat before the surface of the meat is seared by the heat. Then I add more liquid as the meat cooks, to make a delicious pan sauce. Mortadella is one of those ingredients that give a tremendous amount of flavor to meat-based ravioli or cannelloni fillings. Think of mortadella as the Italian version of bologna, seasoned with Italian spices and studded, mosaiclike, with pistachios and cubes of seasoned pork fat. Thinly sliced mortadella is delicious as part of an antipasto assortment or in a sandwich. Add the mortadella to the meat and vegetables when they’re fresh out of the oven: the steam coaxes the flavor out of the mortadella. To grind the meat-and-vegetable mixture, you can use a hand-cranked meat grinder or a grinder attachment for an electric mixer. In either case, choose a disc that is fine but not too fine. Although it isn’t absolutely necessary, when I have besciamella handy, I like to stir a little into the meat filling. It helps to bind it and adds a smooth texture. You can prepare this filling with a combination of beef, veal, and pork, or with leftover roasts, like turkey, pork, or beef. If you’re making this filling with leftover meat, reheat it by simmering it with its own gravy and the porcini-soaking liquid, the soaked porcini, and some vegetables, like diced onions and celery and shredded carrots. When the meat is warmed through and moist and the vegetables are tender, season them, add the remaining ingredients, and grind as above.

You need a V-shaped roasting rack for this. The pork is cooked to “tender rags”—long and slow with air circulating around it—producing the effect of rotisserie cooking. For a Caribbean flair, serve with black beans and rice. Serve leftovers in sandwiches.

I love ground-meat sauces that cook slowly for hours, allowing an exchange of flavors between the meat, cooking liquids, and seasonings and concentrating them into a dense, delicious dressing. Emilia-Romagna is famous for such sauces, the classic Ragù alla Bolognese (page 382) and Ragù di Carni Bianche (page 137) among them. This Abruzzese sauce is quite similar in its procedures, though it uses only pork rather than a mixture of ground meats. It also has some of the typical flavoring touches of the region, notably a generous dash of peperoncino and a greater volume of tomatoes, rendering it a bit more acidic and definitely more lively than a conventional, mellow Bolognese. It’s a great dressing for homemade maccheroni alla chitarra, and wonderful with other pastas, too. At home, whenever I’m preparing a dish like this that takes a long time—and yields such delicious results—I make more of it than I need for one occasion. Another great, effortless meal is a good reward for the hours and effort devoted to cooking the sauce. That’s why I have formulated this recipe to yield enough ragù to dress a pound of maccheroni or other pasta on the day it is cooked, with an equal amount to pack away in the freezer.

The acidity of the tomatillos beautifully balances the fat of the pork shoulder, so when serving the tacos there is no need for lime wedges. The onion and additional cilantro provide crunch and fragrance.

Pork shoulder is what they call the top of the front leg of the hog; it’s not exactly a shoulder, but if you think about it, it kind of is. It is comprised of two parts: The lower (or “arm”) portion of the shoulder is most commonly called the “picnic” or “picnic ham.” True ham comes only from the hind legs; the picnic of the shoulder, though, is often smoked like ham, and some historians speculate that it got its nickname because it’s inexpensive and thus a good cut for casual dining, not for a formal affair when a “real” ham is traditionally served, like at Easter, Thanksgiving, or Christmas. The upper part of the shoulder, often called the “Boston butt,” also known as a “Boston blade roast,” comes from the area near the loin and contains the shoulder blade bone. It is an inexpensive cut that’s packed with muscle, and so without proper tenderizing and cooking it can be unmanageably tough. However, it is well marbled and full of flavorful fat, and thus is ideal for smoking over low temperature; it is the classic meat used for all “pulled pork” in barbecue throughout the South. At Memphis in May contests, which are the first ones I learned to cook for, the whole pork shoulder is always used. At KCBS contests, you can use either a whole shoulder or the Boston butt by itself. I’m used to cooking the whole thing, so that’s what I usually do. History and contest rules aside, here’s the best way in the world to cook a pork shoulder.

Serve this succulent spiced pork at the table with a pair of tongs (perfect for pulling off small hunks to stuff into tortillas), or shred it in the kitchen and place on a platter.

This is Josh Hamilton's favorite sandwich to eat with his family, especially when he comes home after a game. Katie must like making it, too, because it is a classic slow-cooker recipe that needs very little attention. The payoff is meltingly tender pork in a sweet sauce. To round out the meal Southern-style, serve the sandwiches with coleslaw, baked beans, or fries.