Janos/J Bar
      the Janos Blog

 

 

 

 

Unencumbered by the limitations of a lack of wood, fire restrictions, or marshmallow coals, building a pit fire provides an excuse to build a really big fire. In the darkness of pre-dawn we did just that. Split logs of pine were kindling for the bigger, hotter, and slower burning hunks of mesquite that had been seasoning in our yard for the past year.  As the fire burned hotter and higher we tossed bigger and knottier limbs onto the conflagration and then we stopped. In two hours the wood had burned to coals forming a base of embers 2-3 inches deep over the expanse of fire bricks.  The two roasters, both lined with banana leaves one holding the cochinita pibil, the other the Oaxacan style marinated turkey went  bubbling and  gurgling into the pit as cold metal hit hot coals where they were entombed under 80 pounds of steel plate and a couple hundred pounds of dirt.

 

Then we let go. Seven hours in the pit, roasting, tenderizing, collagen breaking down, fat melting into moist meat, marinades mellowing as the flavors developed. I could taste it all in my mind as we went about the chores of a day that, against forecast, had turned bright and warm. We laughed and joked through our mis en place, Rebecca and her two pit boys as we moved and set tables, prepared our side dishes, adjusted the linen, put out candles and glittering sugared fruit for decoration, placed the wine glasses and silverware and tidied up the house.   

 

By 2:00 we were set for our guests to arrive. By 3:15, having allowed ample time for drinks and to build the tension, we proceeded to exhume. Fortified by shots of the warm Hornitos that we had buried along with the pig and turkey  the dirt was cleared, steel plate swept clean and removed. Through all of this I was watching for tell-tale signs of success or failure. That the Hornitos was warm was the first indication that our fire had endured, but the steel plate was not nearly as hot as I expected. I was nervous when we pulled the roasters and tore aside the top seal of foil we had put in place as one more shield against potential sifting dirt. The banana leaves were hot and fragrant, steam escaped as we pulled the fronds aside. We were golden, no more secret worries about spoiled meat and sickened friends.

 

But as always, the proof is in the pudding. Almost imperceptibly, David’s face soured as he pulled the first fibers of turkey from the breast and put them to his mouth. I tasted, Ben tasted, Ed tasted, as did Jake then Dora, Rebecca and Barry. The verdict: Not so good. The turkey was dry, the marinade too vinegary for the mild flavor of the meat. We shredded it any way, this was all part of the adventure. The pork on the other hand was wondrous. The big cubes I had cut were tender, but not falling apart. They were moist, aromatic and delicious. Through the haze of its intoxicating fragrance we heaped the pork onto serving platters, warmed tortillas, and set out the side dishes for our Thanksgiving feast.

 

Thanksgiving Menu

 

Spicy Pecans (Rebecca)

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Buttermilk Biscuits with Smoked Salmon, Roquerfort Cream and Chives (Rebecca)

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Yellow-Eyed Bean and Nopalito Salad with Jalapeno Orange Vinaigrette (Ben)

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Avocado, Orange and Pomegranate Salad (Dorea and Ed)

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Guacamole (Janos)

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Tomatillo Salsa (Sue Ann)

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Cast-Iron Roasted Brussel Sprouts with Whole Roasted Garlic (Sue Ann)

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Arroz con Poblano y Crema (Dora)

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Jalapeno Cranberries (Dora)

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Corn and Chorizo Spoonbread (Rebecca)

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Black Beans (Janos)

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Cochinita Pibil (Group effort)

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Oaxacan Style Turkey (Unclaimed)

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Flour and Corn Tortillas (Anita Street Market)

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Pumpkin Pie (David)

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Ginger Pudding with Ginger Cookies (Dora)

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Love, Friendship and Gratitude (From all of us to all of you)

  

Cochinita Pibil Recipe:

 

Yield: About 30 portions

Ingredients:

20#             Pork shoulder, cut into 2” cubes

½ Cup         Achiote Paste1 TBSP         Cumin Seeds2 TBSP         Black peppercorns2 tsp            Whole cloves16                Allspice berries½ Cup         Kosher Salt4                 Habaneros, seeded and roughy chopped¼ Cup         Garlic, chopped

1 quart         Orange juice

1 Cup           Lemon juice

½ Cup         White vinegar

 

1 Quart        Water

 

6                 Banana leaves

 

Procedure:

1.     In a spice grinder, grind the cumin seeds, pepper corns, cloves and allspice berries.

2.     Whisk together all ingredients.

3.     Marinate the pork in marinade for 24 hours before roasting

4.     Line heavy duty roasting pan with banana leaves.

5.     Place the pork and marinade in the roasting pan and fold the overhanging leaves over the top of the pork

6.     Place the roasting pan on hot coals. Place a heavy lid that overlaps the each side of the pan by 2” on top over roast.

7.     Cover with dirt sealing well so that no air can seep in.

8.     Cook about 7 hours.

   

The pork dilemma is still an issue. I could find no local pork for Thanksgiving so I’m cheating a little by going to my commercial broker, Jet-Fresh who will bring in some organic, free-range pork from California. We’ve now broken the 200 mile barrier. What’ll be next? Does it count that the wines will come from Spain?

I went out to measure the pit this morning. It’s 30% too small. I feel like James Gardner must have felt in The Great Escape when the tunnel came up short of tree line. At least in my case I’ve got a little time to spare. So out came the pick and shovel.

Bad news about the pig today.  Seem’s Georges neighbor, Dennis Morney sent two goats, several head of cattle and a pig to the University Extension for butchering. Somehow they misplaced the pig. He gave me the name of a friend, June Hewitt who lives in Bisbee and had sold some stock to him.  “They’ve got good genes.” He said. “Sorry I’ve sold all my weaners.” June let me know in her captivating British accent. “It’s kind of odd,” she said “People want to buy the pigs before they’re even conceived. If you like, I’ll raise one for you.” “How long?” I wanted to know. “About 6 months.”  I guess we started a little late. I’ll make some more calls tomorrow.

 

Ben, after reading Gary Nabhan’s book Coming Home to Eat: The Politics and Pleasures of Local Foods in which Gary describes a year eating only foods produced within a 200 mile radius of his Tucson home, decided we needed a change in our Thanksgiving tradition. “This year, let’s do something different, something revolutionary.” Ben popped the idea to Rebecca and me. “Forget the normal family Thanksgiving with all the same stuff and wasting the beautiful day watching a stupid football game. Let’s get a local turkey, we’ll dig a pit, have a bunch of friends over, and use the foods from around here.”

Sounded pretty reasonable to us (all but the football part anyway). We figured the hardest part would be breaking the news to Rebecca’s sister who loves holding the traditional celebration at her home here in Tucson. Barbie took the news well, probably figuring “What a bunch of nuts. They’ll get it out of their system.” and decided that just because the Wilder’s wanted to become one with the land was no reason to disrupt the rest of the family.

That being settled, it was time to start planning. Figuring that there’s no success like excess we decided to do both turkey and pork. We’ll prepare the turkey Oaxacan style and make Cochinita Pibil with the pig. I’ve researched both of these dishes and developed the recipes for them we use at the restaurant. I’ve participated in making (my job was eating) lamb barbacoa in Oaxaca but have never pit roasted myself. In preparation, Ben put on Rick Bayless’ DVD from his TV show, Mexico, One Plate at Time and we watched as Rick and his daughter, Lanie, dug a pit, lined it with bricks, built a fire, which reduced to coals, marinated and roasted a pig, and held a party for about 20 of their friends in half an hour. How hard could it be?

First thing you have to understand is, I’m not a project guy. No one has ever called me “handy”. If something needs work around the house either Rebecca does it, we hire someone, or more likely, it doesn’t get done.

So let’s start with the pit. It’s got to be 46 inches long, 36” wide and about 12” deep to hold the brick lining, the coals and the two large roasters we’d need. “I really want to be part of this.” Ben insisted. Then came the GRE test, then the trip to the Pinacates with one of his professors, then complications with my schedule, and there I was in the yard with a pick and shovel expanding our very small fire pit to the required dimensions. I’m not whining, but our soil is nothing like the rich, well-worked soil that yielded so easily to Rick’s shovel in his Chicago backyard. Ours is full of rocks and caliche. When I put my shovel to the earth sparks fly.

Let’s talk about bricks. You can’t use regular bricks and adobe won’t work, so soon I was off to the brickyard and, with the shocks and springs sagging in my station wagon, brought home a load of fire bricks. I figured about 10 trips in Ben’s old wagon and I’d have the bricks transferred to the fire pit. That worked for one load until Rebecca let me know “You can’t pull the wagon over the winter lawn we just planted.” OK, what’s wrong with this picture? Here we are in the desert, trying to cook locally and we have a lawn? Not only that, but I got caught in the sprinklers.

Plan B: portage around the lawn and up the steps to pit. Ten trips became 60. More good exercise.

Let’s talk about turkeys. We all know that turkeys are now a mass-produced commodity from a single gene pool raised to grow quickly with huge breasts. They can barely move around, cannot procreate and are generally pumped full of hormones and antibiotics. They also cost about .69 a pound at the local supermarket. My baby’s an organically raised Double Breasted (can you get a single breasted?) Bronze. A 23.6 pounder at four bucks a pound. George Wykoff raised it in Willcox, about 60 miles south of us. My first call to George: “Can’t hear you, I’m in the car and can’t write anything down. You know I’m sixty. Call my mother- in- law she’ll take down your name.” He gave me the number. I called his mother in law who took down my name and number. The next day I called George back: “I can’t hear you, I’m on the tractor in the garlic field. My wife we’ll bring you the turkey. I’ll get you my neighbors number, he just butchered some pigs.” I was on the right track. Local turkey, local pigs. This is going to be out of control!

Back to the pit. “Ben, you know we’ll need a lot of dirt to seal the pit airtight once we put the pans in. I think I’ll go buy some dirt.” Sounded reasonable to me, particularly since I was the guy doing the digging. “You gotta be kidding dad. We’re digging a pit, getting local turkey and pig and you’re going to buy the dirt? That’s not happening.” I put Ben in charge of the dirt.

Now there’s the piece about the lid for the roasters, which of course do not come with their own. Rick and Lanie had a gorgeous steel plate with handles on it. In Oaxaca they’d used corrugated tin. I went to my buddy Jose, a blacksmith and welder who’s been fixing and making me things for the last 25 years and asked his advice. “Don’t start drinking too early,” he said “we pit roasted for my wedding and were drunk by the time the meat was done” he now has 5 kids, 2 out on their own. Are you going to wrap it in banana leaves?” He’s making us a lid out of 3/8” reclaimed metal. It’ll weigh about 60 pounds. I think I see more good exercise coming.