Ciao: Migration Prosciutto
I am no stranger to the fact that my last name sounds as if I am destined to work at a pierogi factory. While these lovely potato-pillows may have put Poland on the map here in Middle-America, they are preceded in international pop culture by revered Polish artists and Catholics such as Chopin, and PJP2* respectively. Although I am wildly proud of the silent “Z” at the end of my cognomen, hereditary math tells me that the “Z” is just about the only Polish attribute that I possess. In fact, I come from far longer lines of Muccino’s, Mandracchia’s, and Nolletti’s. My mother is so Italian she’s practically a bowl of gnocchi, and while my father may have provided my kielbasa namesake, he too is half-smothered in red sauce. In a perfectly ironic world, I feel that the following statement would be muttered in a church basement while holding a token and sitting amongst a circle of my peers. Here in TWOW&W’s virtual world however, we are not afforded that scene – and so, here goes nothing: I’m Billy Skrobacz, and I am a Dago.
Thus, in accordance with the scriptures, you are going to enjoy learning about a dish that screams ‘culture clash.’ That dish: Duck Breast Prosciutto. It does not get more Kansas-Italian than that! Before we get too deep into the intricacies of Italian cured meats, there are a few extremely important steps to follow when curing your own game – and I would be remissed not to mention them to you all. First, Pluck your bird. This is a widely applicable statement. But certainly, for this recipe you’ll want to pluck your bird. Second, pay attention to your weight. You want to make sure that you know how much your meat weighs at the start of the process, and periodically check the weight throughout. As a general rule-with-thumbs, the meat is safe to eat when it has lost nearly 30% of its original weight. Weigh your meat, bro. Third, mold. This process involves covering your “uncooked” duck breasts, so there will be an opportunity for trapped moisture resulting in mold. Because of this, you will have to periodically unwrap and check your ever-curing meat. White mold (Per Ask Jeeves) is apparently okay to be washed away with Vinegar. Black Mold requires throwing out the meat. In short, Black Mold Matters.
The idea of this dish started because I hosted Christmas Eve this year; and while I was fully committed to the Feast of 7 Fishies, I felt it appropriate to incorporate a .12 gage fish (duck) onto the cooch board for an appetizer. It was something that I knew people would taste but not engorge, leaving plenty of room for scallops et. Al. In preparation for the prosciutto, I read a metric-butt-load of recipes leading up to my attempt at the dish. These articles had good information, but generally just scared the piss out of me. I truly believed that I would be scraping white mold off of the duck for the entirety of the hang dry process. Maybe I did it wrong, but mold, however, was not a “thing” for me. In fact, the worst part of this entire recipe was the wait. Being a self-proclaimed instant gratification connoisseur, I felt that three weeks was far too long for a piece of uncooked meat. After 3 laborious weeks of wrapping and unwrapping the cheesecloth, (and after 2 minutes of you reading this grammatical nightmare of a blogpost) I’m sure you’re wondering, “is this recipe worth the wait?” … Does Dolly Parton sleep on her back?! YES, DUCK BREAST PROSCIUTTO IS DEFINITELY WORTH THE WAIT!!!
The garlic, the fennel, the red pepper, all of it clung to the meat like a hoarder clings to a Blockbuster gift certificate. The casing was firm but not hard, the center was soft but not raw. The smell was stout but not pungent. This dish was an all-around win, and even my wife threw some on a cracker and shoved it down her gullet. We served the prosciutto alongside cocktailed scrimps, and slapped it on a hours-de-vores platter with some bleu cheese, Pear slices, and a pepper jelly from Trader Joes (‘white girl’ approved). It was a wonderful start to our Italian feast and if nothing else it made my mother in law more thankful for the fish dishes that followed. I was happy with how this all turned out and I am excited for our readers to give it a try! See below for the recipe, and give me and Weller a shout once you’ve tried a bite. Mangia!
*Pope John Paul II
Materials:
- Cheese Cloth
- Butcher Twine
- Airtight container
- Food Scale
- Refrigerator with stuff in it
Ingredients:
- Coarse or curing salt
- Bay leaf
- Garlic powder
- Red pepper Flakes
- Coriander
- Fennel Seed (Ground and whole)
- Black Pepper
Steps:
1. Pluck your bird
2. WEIGH YOUR MEAT!!!!! Record the weight as your starting point – remember, 30% decrease = eating time
3. Place the breasts flesh-side-up onto a bed of your coarse or curing salt. I placed the bay leaves on top of the breasts at this time, and completely covered the breasts with the remainder of the salt
a. Some weirdo’s measure the salt. Apparently, it was important to them. It was not important to me, and I used the time that I saved not measuring the salt to go shoot more ducks (probably, I can’t remember that far back).
4. I let this do its thing in the fridge for about 30 hours.
a. Once I removed the breasts from the salt, I rinsed them as to not make the prosciutto taste like the ocean – Dry the meat thoroughly with paper towel
b. The meat will be a deep red while the flesh will be a pale-yellow version of its former self
5. Lay the breasts onto separate cheesecloths and heavily season all sides with the mixture above. I didn’t measure because in Italian cooking, your heart will tell you when you’ve got the right amount.
a. Also be sure to sprinkle some of the seasoning onto the cheesecloth itself. It will help to provide more flavor as you tightly roll those sumbitches and prep them for a hang.
6. Once seasoned, rolled, and tied off, look for a cool place to hang. I used our basement refrigerator, hanging the top twine from the stuff in the door.
7. Check back each week to make sure there’s no mold (I’m convinced at this point the mold doesn’t actually happen.. but every other recipe made this sound like the boogie-man, so I will too).
8. After 3 weeks and 30%, remove the breasts and slice as thinly as your sausage fingers will allow!