FOOD&DRINK

Chef shows how fast 229 pounds of pig can disappear at festival

By Bonnie S. Benwick
THE WASHINGTON POST
Wednesday, March 25, 2009

In the annals of nose-to-tail eating down South, Kevin Johnson's effort deserves at least a hoofnote. He made 229 pounds of heritage-breed hog disappear. In four days.

His trotter cakes (made with meat from pig's feet), sausage-stuffed hush puppies and okra soup made with smoked bones were some of ways the executive chef of the restaurant Anson in Charleston, S.C., thrilled thousands at the fourth annual Charleston Food and Wine Festival this month.

Now, it would have been easy for Johnson to spit-roast his prize until it was pull-apart tender, then invite the crowds to chow down. In fact, five barbecued pigs were split open and devoured - with slaw, soft rolls and cold beer - at the festival's closing party.

That's not the way he played it.

Johnson, 37, was one of many Charleston chefs who were already logging a lot of kitchen time during the four days of the festival, including joining forces with notable out-of-town chefs to produce five-course tasting menus at $150 a head for a restaurant "dine-around." On top of that, Anson's management urged the chef to cook for, and operate, a tasting booth.

"I was hesitant. It's a big undertaking," Johnson said afterward. "We'd done it for the past three years. So I thought, `If we're going to do this, we really have to DO it.' "

Besides a booth design that encouraged guests to step inside, his inspiration came in the form of a Tamworth hog, an auburn-colored heritage breed from Keegan-Filion Farms in nearby Walterboro. He and a handful of other Charleston chefs have been buying local and breaking down the whole hogs themselves.

Johnson started doing so in 2008, ordering pigs of lower "dressed" (cleaned and partially gutted) weights. On average, they clocked in at 175 pounds. He made cracklings from the skin; cured bacon and pancetta; cooked the ears slowly to make confit; split and roasted bones for stocks and soups; slow-roasted shoulder meat; and cut tenderloins and thick, bone-in chops for entrées. The yield would last for about a month.

As demand increased, though, Johnson upped the poundage and ordered every two weeks, moving most recently to one pig per week. Hogwise, he says, bigger is better, although intense chef labor is involved: "At 200 pounds dressed, I could see the meat was juicier, with a more developed flavor profile. The loins and shoulders were amazing, with nice marbling."

Farmers Marc and Annie Filion agree. "The flavor's in the fat," Annie Filion said by phone recently. "Tamworth is an older breed that grows slower than conventional hogs such as Yorkshire or Hampshire. It takes about eight months to grow them to the size where the marbling is how chefs like it."

Johnson has come to prefer the diversity and economy of a pig more than, say, a side of beef: "If we're able to use the whole thing and sell every item, that lowers our restaurant food costs. But it also presents a challenge and gives us the chance to play with things we wouldn't normally order, like 10 pounds of trotters."

The Johnson & Wales University culinary graduate learned to appreciate local ingredients during his 31/2-year tenure at the Inn at Little Washington in Washington, Va. He was sous-chef there from 1997 to 1999 and remembers the job fondly.

"Working with Patrick O'Connell taught me how to really taste food. It's like I didn't know how to do it till I got there," he says. Johnson watched local purveyors come to O'Connell's kitchen door with the best produce and cheeses, taking note of how those important relationships can be built.

As a result, he says, he takes "a lot more care" with farm-to-table ingredients. So when the 229-pound dressed pig (originally a 350-pounder) arrived at the Anson kitchen eight days before the festival opening, Johnson had an "apps" strategy in mind. Figuring that at least 2,000 bite-size samples needed to be made, he came up with a range of appetizer recipes that used as much of the animal as possible, in ways that got people talking.

Armed with a boning knife and a plumber's hacksaw, Johnson took about an hour to break down the pig, whose head and feet hung off the ends of an 8-foot-long stainless-steel table. First, he removed the liver and soaked it overnight in a mixture of milk and sugar to remove any impurities and tame its strong flavor. It would be used along with pork fat to make a rustic, pink-tinged, salty-sweet terrine that he serves in the restaurant with poached grapes and cornichons. Festival-goers got a taste with a house-made apple mostarda.

Next, Johnson detached the head at the neckbone, aiming to cull meat and fat from around the base of the skull and jowls to prepare creamy, thin, subtly spiced slices of pig's head roulade. (Pieces of skull and other bones were smoked and added to stock for an okra soup made later in the week.) The dish took three days to complete and was offered in a miniature cone with a tender salad of radish, arugula and shaved Parmesan.

The chef removed ham from the back end and brined it for a week, then smoked it for several hours, glazed it with brown sugar and sliced it very thinly for sampling. The slices were a pale raspberry shade of pink with sweet crackled edges; a single bite accompanied by a toasted-caraway-seed mustard made visitors circle back for seconds.

Slow-cooked pork shoulder was used for a Moroccan-inspired ragout with pumpkin seeds and dried fruit, served over the restaurant's Anson Mill grits, ground in-house.

Back to the festival pig: The belly was cured for almost as long as the ham and treated with a dry rub; part of it went into a skewered BLT with arugula pesto and slow-cooked tomato (at Anson, the elements are served on toasted cornmeal brioche). Johnson saved scraps along the way to make sausage, some of which was cooked and folded into cornmeal batter for light, crisp Hush Piggies, a crowd favorite. He cut the trotters high enough on the legs so they had a higher ratio of meat to fat. He braised them with aromatics, picked the meat and combined it with onion, thyme and Dijon mustard, forming the mixture into small cakes that he coated in bread crumbs and pan-fried. The trotter cakes were sampled with a turnip rémoulade.

Meaty chops were reserved for Anson's patrons back at the restaurant, while Johnson kept the spareribs for staff meals. "We chefs try to eat them all before the line cooks get here," he said with a grin.

By the time Sunday night rolled around, Anson's pig was gone.

Hush Piggies

Bits of cooked sausage make these cornmeal fritters even more decadent. At a party, they'll go fast as passed hors d'oeuvres.

The batter can be prepared, covered and refrigerated several hours in advance. Stir to recombine before making the fritters, which are best served immediately.

6 cups peanut oil

6 oz. good-quality uncooked country pork sausage, casings removed

3/4 cup cornmeal, preferably stone-ground

1/2 cup flour

1 tsp. baking soda

1/2 tsp. baking powder

1 tsp. salt

1 large egg

3/4 cup low-fat or whole buttermilk

1/2 small onion, finely grated (1/2 cup)

Heat the oil in a large, deep saucepan over high heat; use a thermometer to measure the oil temperature, which must reach 350 degrees. Line a baking sheet and a plate with a few layers of paper towels.

While the oil is heating, cook the sausage: Warm up a small nonstick skillet over medium-low heat. Add the sausage, breaking it up with your fingers. Cook for about 8 minutes, stirring as needed and continuing to break it into small pieces, until it is cooked through. Transfer to the lined plate to drain and cool. Use your fingers to further break the sausage into small bits as necessary.

Sift together the cornmeal, flour, baking soda, baking powder and salt in a medium mixing bowl.

Beat the egg in a liquid measuring cup; whisk in the buttermilk. Add the onion to the egg-milk mixture, then add the wet ingredients to the dry ingredients, stirring to mix well.

Add the bits of sausage to the batter, stirring to combine. The batter will be slightly spongy.

When the oil has reached 350 degrees, drop about 5 spoonfuls (about 1 teaspoon each) into the saucepan. Fry for 3 to 4 minutes, until deep golden and puffed, turning them over as needed so they brown evenly. Use a slotted spoon to transfer to the lined baking sheet; keep the pieces warm in a 200-degree oven as you work, if needed.

Makes about 30 golf ball-size pieces. Serve hot.

- Kevin Johnson, executive chef at Anson restaurant in Charleston, S.C.