How to make pancetta

Adventures in charcuterie. Part One

In a series of upcoming essays over the coming weeks, I’ll be giving you all my two penneth worth of opinion on creating cured hams, salamis and pancetta made in an old-fashioned way. The careful use of salts and spices rubbed into meat to let it preserve and slowly dry, allowing good bacteria to work its magic.

These techniques are ones that I’ve explored and relied upon for a long time, mostly successfully, though with one or two notable exceptions where a batch of something promising has ended up in the bin after turning an unusual colour in the drying process, and the overriding fear of something nasty happening to me if I ate it.

In these essays, I will take you through the process of using traditional skills to create interesting things from whole muscle cuts through to the creation of aged salami and saucisson, and if you feel up to the challenge then I would love you to give one of the techniques a try, though if you are scared witless at the thought of bits of mouldy animals hanging around your house and the potential of weirdly coloured fuzz growing on meat in a cupboard, then I hope you just enjoy the words. You will certainly learn something either way.

Coppa with chilli and fennel

It’s important to be able to make the ingredients that I rely upon, products that I usually depend on others to make such as cheese, vinegar and charcuterie. Products that it’s easy to take for granted, and ones that keep the old skills alive. I have broadened my skill set over time to include the making of decent ruby red bresaola made from a single muscle cut of roe-deer, spicy coppa flavoured with chilli and fennel from Gloucester old spot pigs, rolled belly ham tied neatly with twine in concentric circles, slabs of fatty pancetta crusted with peppercorns and juniper hung on a metal hook to dry for a few months, that is unlike anything you can buy in the shops. Various types of coppa, salami, saucisson-sec and the like from rare breed pigs, deer, lamb and ex-dairy herd beef have dried in my cabinet. It is a useful skill to have, and one that if indeed I am stranded in a mountain cabin with only a pig for company then it is likely I won’t starve.

Let’s ignore for a few moments the potential perils of allowing cuts of meat, mixed with fat and stuffed into gut casings to quietly ferment for days at warm temperatures wholly unsuitable for meat, at odds with anything sensible that we have learned from the food safety textbooks, allowing the growth of moulds in a myriad of colours and textures, white fuzziness, powdery blue rashes, green spots, and splashes of Indian yellow like growths, that over the passing months will coat the exterior of the gut casings in sunbursts, round spots and general weirdness, whilst letting it hang for months and months stuffed into the intestines of farmyard animals. We can for now ignore the deadly threat of botulism (incurable) that might inadvertently be created and allowed to fester, by the failure to adhere to the rules of the Charcutier.

Crusty pancetta, the recipe is below

I have told you before of my early experiments with pork shoulder, marinated in wine and garlic for a week, salted and sugared for another week on a wooden rack and turned daily to keep nice and dry, then rubbed dry and rolled in toasted fennel seeds as the Italians like to do, then bound tightly, helped by Paul (my long-suffering Sous chef ) and myself squeezing with all the might of our forearms and rolling the great chunks of pig into a muslin cloth, tying them tightly with string to ensure that there are no gaps or seams where mould might take hold and spread. We would leave the mummified bundles to hang from metal hooks for a few months under the fire escape of the swish Mayfair restaurant where I held my first Head Chef position. The fire escape was in my mind the most suitable location for allowing bits of of pig to mature in the gentle breeze and cool conditions. The commis were on standby that if we had a visit from the local EHO then they would duly run downstairs, cut the hams down from the underside of the (well-ventilated) steps of the fire escape and place them in the walk-in fridge as if nothing slightly unwise had ever happened in the first place.

( I must say I’m encouraged by the words of Healthy Farming Healthy Food who told me “I didn’t even use a chamber last year, just hung them up in a dog cage under my house with mosquito netting around them! Which is why in need to do it in winter”)

That’s the spirit. A complete disregard for what the world of Health and Safety says.

In hindsight, I have always questioned the wisdom of my judgement in those early experiments into charcuterie, in a boutique restaurant where London’s best lawyers and fund managers would eat their lunch with us, and who were in a superior position to me in regards to expensive legal representation if indeed I had unwittingly given botulism to anyone. But when the hams became ready, I would always be my own guinea pig, slicing myself a small plateful, eating it, enjoying the rich flavour of pork, wine and fennel, and then when after two days had passed and I hadn’t been admitted to the hospital (the usual time for the onset of any life-threatening foodborne illnesses to take hold ), it would be on the lunch menu that very week.

It always sold out.

Homemade charcuterie

As Paul Edward: The American Road (who spent two years making charcuterie, continually submitting laboratory samples only to be refused a license, though he was able to pop down to the store and buy a gun whenever he felt like it ), said in a conversation with me in Notes last week, “40,000 years ago they were drawing pictures of cured meat in caves in Sicily. I wonder how we managed to evolve for so long without the health officials…”

A converted Gaggenau wine fridge has been the ageing chamber for most of my charcuterie. A professional cabinet would be nice, but a wine fridge is a fine place to start, as long as you have the temerity to be busy with water sprays, and airflow and you like to be kept busy keeping humidity at the correct level by using a container of salt water and occasionally a small dehumidifier.

Inside the wine cooler

I can happily watch the neat rows of salamis and whole muscle cuts for hours as they hang suspended by strings from the wooden slats of the shelves. I like to look at the tight knots in the loops of string that I’ve tied, the way the texture and colour of the surface of the meat changes as the fermentation begins. Saucisson that started out a pale pink, slowly turning a deep red as the good bacteria went to work. Opening the door twice a day to encourage airflow, a quick misting of water from a spray bottle to keep everything damp, as otherwise, the pieces will dry too quickly from the outside, ensuring that a heavy outer crust develops preventing the centre from drying properly leading to what is known as case hardening, which means the lot is destined for the bin as the centre will never dry correctly and will likely go bad inside. I once had a disaster with a batch of fennel salami, that I had spent days busy with, grinding, stuffing and fermenting. When stuffing the mixture into the skins, I had worked in too much haste, filling the skins unevenly so little air pockets remained. I went away on vacation for a couple of weeks and when I returned, all manner of strangeness had taken hold of my finnochia. You see, when you leave small air pockets in salami, rest assured the slow drying process will allow nasties to form in the small gaps of the filling. If you were mad, you could pretend that this hadn’t happened and try your luck. Luckily I am of sound mind and I threw them away.

Waiting patiently for the good moulds to begin their work to chase away the bad bacteria is part of the process of making charcuterie. A fine white dusting of penicillin will coat the charcuterie as the days tick by. It will pervade the cabinet so any batch you hang there will quickly bloom with a fine white powder. The trick is to allow this penicillin to develop as it will hinder anything that looks to be menacing. I rub away certain persistent moulds that grow using a small piece of towel soaked in white vinegar, rubbing off the spot to let the meat continue to dry until the next inspection, the fine powdery bloom of white penicillin slowly encasing the piece.

It is magical really

Coppa

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Pancetta

In a previous piece, I shared the technique on how to make streaky bacon, and as a follow-up, I think it’s appropriate to begin with the technique for making astonishingly good pancetta.

Now pancetta is like bacon, but more like the Pope stood next to a local priest if that makes sense

Dry pancetta

It will take time and patience to make, about three to four months in total. A mixture of an initial wet curing and a slow drying time but think of it as a project.

You would be best buying a small second-hand wine fridge online as this is a good investment for all things charcuterie related and they needn’t be expensive, (unless you have a fire escape or a dog cage), or have access to a professional charcuterie cabinet. If you do search one out, buy one with a fan that you are able to control the speed of, as this will make a difference as it will give the necessary airflow that is needed for things to dry properly. Temperature, humidity and airflow are the key things to pay attention to.

Traditionally, charcuterie was hung in caves and damp cellars, and so as long as conditions are met, and the rules followed then you should be able to produce good results. I must say that the romantic in me would love to have a dank cellar with salamis and tightly bound hams hanging from the rafters, with fog sweeping in from the river, but a clean modern fridge cabinet running at about around 10°c to 15°c with a humidity of 65rh to 75rh is much more practical.

This recipe will produce a dry, crusty aromatic slab of holy goodness. It will outshine anything you might buy in the shops, no matter how expensive. It is simply astonishing. The technique is relatively straightforward, starting with the curing of the meat with the correct salts and aromatics for a week or so, and then drying in the cabinet. This will take a few months, depending on the conditions. With the aim to achieve a weight loss of forty per cent through drying, this will ensure that the pancetta is ready and safe to eat. We will use a curing salt called Prague powder number 2. This is a nitrate salt used in tiny quantities that will ensure that anything sinister is kept away. Botulism is no cross to die on. There are two Prague powders, number 1 and number 2. With varying amounts of nitrates in each blend, number 1 is used for regular quick batches of sausages and bacon that will be cooked, whereas number 2 is for slow-cured meats that will air dry and ones that you will want to eat without further cooking.

These salts must never be confused with Himalayan pink salt or saltpetre. They are very specific and can easily be bought online. They are only used in tiny quantities, and yes I know there is an argument that they are not great to use, but if you’re going to make charcuterie then it is something you must accept or you will make yourself very ill.

Percentage scale for pancetta

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A recipe for a stunning piece of pancetta

The end result

If you are unfamiliar with using a percentage scale for a recipe, it is something that we use professionally for bulk recipes and enables us to change things easily to suit the amount we prepare. Bakers use percentages all the time, and with charcuterie, it is no different. Please use a calculator to ensure the correct amount in your calculation, and use a very accurate set of scales.

Dont buy the pork from a supermarket. Go to a butcher and explain what you are making. They will select something for you.

As the weight of pork you buy may not be exact, you must weigh the curing mixture according to the percentage formula below. If you can’t work this out, send me a message and I shall do it for you.

You will need

1.5 kilo Pork belly, skin and bones removed

A quantity of weighed curing mix, see below

The formula below is for one kilo of pork belly with the skin removed.

Curing mixture

2.75% Kosher salt

0.25% Prague Number 2

1.75% Brown sugar

1.8% Black pepper -roughly crushed

0.5% Red pepper flakes

0.5% Juniper berries

0.25% Garlic

0.25% Thyme

0.15% Bay leaf

So for instance, if you had a piece of Pork belly that weighed 1.5 kilos then you would calculate the following

1500 x 2.75% = 41.25 g Kosher salt

The rest of the recipe is calculated in the same way according to the percentage.

Quite straightforward.

Pancetta in the making

How to

Take all of the dry ingredients and mix them in a small bowl.

Lay the pork belly out on a board and massage the mixture evenly on both sides. Pay attention to ensuring that the dry mixture is worked into every cut and crevice of the belly. This is important and you must be rigorous in doing so. It will make sure that the curing mix is evenly spread over the meat and into all of the small places that need the mixture to do its work.

This slab of pork now needs to be placed in a large ziplock bag with the air squeezed out and placed in the fridge for two weeks. Every day you must turn the pack over, massaging gently to distribute any juices that will start collecting.

This is the start of the pancetta. It will smell glorious. This is a slow process and the timescale needs to be adhered to and only after two weeks have passed can we begin part two. That will give you time to complete the set-up of the wine fridge where the pancetta will dry for a few months.

There are well over two thousand of you who read these words, (a fact for which I’m truly humbled) and I hope that someone out there might feel emboldened enough to give this a try. If you do, I salute you and if you would like to discuss any issues that you might have in the preparation, feel free to message me.

To be continued…

William

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I’d be ever so grateful.

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