Food Interlude II: Pancetta

I am Jewish, more or less. Let me explain. My parents are Jewish, and I self-identify as a Jew, but it's a cultural thing, not a matter of faith. Which is to say: I know and gladly accept that my being a Jew defines at least in part who I am to both casual and close acquaintances; I take pride in my people's history, in a legacy that includes Albert Einstein and Bob Dylan and Rosa Luxembourg and Hank Greenberg and Mickey Katz and of course the Marx Brothers, and Jesus too for that matter; I like to attend and even host the occasional Seder; and I believe my Jewish-ness entitles me to tell offensive Jewish jokes without feeling any guilt whatsoever and to judge definitively the quality of any bagel.

But I am not a practicing Jew. I do not believe in the God of the Holy Scripture (Old Testament to you goyim out there) and I only obey those Biblical edicts that I am compelled to obey either by conscience or by American law. This means that I won't murder or bow to an idol but that I feel no need to set aside a portion of dough or the first sheering of a sheep for a Cohen. If I don't roll on Shabbas (see 1:25), it's only because I don't particularly care to roll.

And, I adamantly do not believe in a God who would prohibit us from eating pork. Any God so cruel is no God I want to have anything to do with. Have you had pork? If you have, you know where I am going with this. Pork is delicious. It makes beef taste like chicken and chicken taste like… oh, I don’t know, rabbit? Whatever. It is good, is the point I'm trying to make. Many of the best dishes in the world involve pork, including most of the 'vegetable' sides offered on the Southern table of my adoptive homeland. Why would God make an animal so delicious and then tell us not to eat it? Next you will be telling me God doesn't want us to have sex. It makes about as much sense.

Pork is a wonderfully versatile meat. Its different cuts collectively provide a surprisingly varied flavor palette. Many are equally amenable to grilling, roasting, braising, stewing, or pan searing. I don't think any meat takes better to curing or smoking. As an added plus, my adoptive home state of North Carolina raises lots and lots of pork. Delicious locally and sustainably raised pork is bountiful at my favorite farmers' markets.

Pancetta, sadly, is not; it is still regarded as a boutique meat product here (and nearly everywhere else outside Italy, truth be told) and so must be purchased from a specialty vendor. Pancetta is made from pork belly and side, which is why some people refer to it as 'Italian bacon.' Because it is spiced and cured rather than smoked, however, it tastes nothing like conventional American bacon. No, it tastes much, much better, if you can imagine such a thing. You will usually find it at the deli counter. It looks something like a medium-size salami, rolled and wrapped so that its cut end reveals concentric spirals of pink meat and gray-white fat.

Not all pancetta is created equal. My local Whole Foods sells it only prepackaged and sliced thin; this product is to be avoided unless no other option is available. I much prefer to buy it in inch- or half-inch-thick slabs, depending on how much I'm planning to use. This allows me to cut it into a small dice, which to me is the form in which it shines brightest. The counterperson will cut it for you in a slab if you ask nicely but authoritatively. Betray doubt, however, and s/he will probably slice it thin for you, and then you are ruined.

You can use pancetta any way you'd use bacon. Greens especially love pancetta. Heat some olive oil in a stockpot, then add a quarter-pound of diced pancetta and cook it until it browns and crisps. Add two crushed cloves of garlic, and as soon as you smell the garlic cooking add your greens (I like broccoli rabe, chard, or collard greens for this preparation), lower the heat, cover, and cook until the greens are wilted and cooked through. Season with salt and pepper; for collards, I also like to add a splash of red wine vinegar.

Lentils also benefit from pancetta. My favorites are Pardina lentils, which come from Spain; De Puy lentils, from France, are about as good. Cook the lentils in water following the instructions on the package. While they cook, sauté some diced onion in a skillet. As it starts to wilt, add some diced pancetta and a little crushed garlic and, as before, cook until the pancetta is browned and crisped. When the lentils are done, add them to the sauté, stir to mix well, then finish with a little salt and a drizzle of your best olive oil.

Because pancetta is salty and savory, it pairs nicely with sweet ingredients. One of my favorite pasta sauces starts with olive oil, garlic, and pancetta as above. I might add a handful of greens; chard, which is a little bitter, works well. Finally, I'll throw in some peas (frozen works fine). Cook some conchiglie or another small shell-shaped pasta; you want a shape that will scoop up the onion, pancetta, and peas. Add the cooked pasta to the sauce and toss to coat. Taste, then season with salt and pepper. Add a drizzle of that good olive oil if it needs it. Red pepper flakes and grated Parmigiano-Reggiano are nice additions, completing a complex complement of tastes: the salty, savory pancetta; the sweet peas; the bitter chard; the sharp, nutty cheese; the heat of the pepper flakes... damn, I'm making myself hungry just writing this! I prepare this dish all the time, as it is very easy and equally delicious. I'm going to make some right now, in fact.

Best I can recall, I had never tasted pork until I went to college. One day I saw the ham at the cafeteria and thought 'What the hell? Let's give it a shot.' At that same college I read the better part of Plato's and Aristotle's bodies of work. The sad truth: I remember the ham a lot better.

So there you go.