Three pounds of heritage pork belly: Beauty is more than skin deep.

For the 10-hour pork belly, Morimoto uses Kurobuta pork, also known as Berkshire pork here in the United States. As one might guess from its name, Berkshire pork originated in Great Britain, where the breed boasts a 300-year lineage. In more recent times, the Berkshire pig has become part of the UK’s Rare Breed Survival Trust, which aims to fight the extinction of heritage livestock (similar to Slow Food’s Ark of Taste). Although it may seem counter-intuitive to slaughter and eat a vanishing breed, this practice actually helps to support and sustain the Berkshire pig farmers, who will thus ensure that the Berkshire lineage continues. Of course, heritage meats do cost more than factory-farmed meats, but the difference in quality is unmistakable.

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Welcome to your new home.

The first step in preparing Morimoto’s 10-hour pork belly is to render the fat side (skin removed). This initial step is best accomplished by starting with a cold pan and searing the belly slowly over very low heat. I actually rendered the pork belly for one full hour, turning the heat up to medium for the last five minutes in order to achieve a beautiful golden brown color (as seen in the photo below). Note that the meaty side of the belly is to remain raw for the time being.

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So crisp, you could strike a match on it.

After rendering, the fat side of the belly becomes quite crispy, reminiscent of chicharones. In the photo above, you may notice that I rendered out almost one full cup of fat, which I drained before returning the belly to the pan. Once drained, I covered the pork belly with three quarts of cold water, which also included one-half cup of brown rice (the rice serves to collect some of the impurities in the pork belly, allowing for a much “cleaner” flavor at the end). I brought the braising water to a gentle simmer, then I turned the heat all the way down, allowing the belly to simmer for six hours. During this process, it’s imperative that the water simmers as gently as possible; a rolling boil, especially in the latter stages, would shred the pork belly. Also, I found that the pork belly was best simmered fat-side down, since that’s the way it tends to curl during cooking.

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After six hours, and a night in the fridge. Four more hours remaining.

After six hours of low simmering, I carefully removed the pork belly, which was barely holding together by that point. Since the belly was somewhat buoyant in its braising liquid, I used a dinner plate to scoop it from the water. From there, I carefully slid the belly onto a sheet pan, then used a rubber spatula to gently scrape away any of the brown rice (on a related note, brown rice is used because it’s the least likely to dissolve during the six-hour braise). Once the belly was cleaned and manicured, I sandwiched it between another sheet pan, and pressed it flat with a couple 24-ounce cans. I refrigerated this set-up overnight, then removed it the next day and portioned the pork belly into squares, as seen above.

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10 hours completed.

Up until this point, the pork belly has not been seasoned in any way. The seasoning occurs in that last four hours of braising, when the liquid consists of (a) four parts water, (b) three parts sake, (c) two parts sugar, and (d) one part soy sauce. This 4-3-2-1 ratio is often seen in Japanese cooking, and can also be used in other applications. The key, however, is that the liquid for the first two hours of the braise does not contain the soy sauce component. The reasoning is, the salt in the soy sauce would inhibit the pork belly’s ability to absorb the sugar. With that in mind, I combined one quart of water with three cups of sake and two cups of sugar, bringing the liquid to a boil just long enough to dissolve the sugar. I then poured the hot liquid over the pork belly, and placed the covered pot into a 275-degree oven. After two hours in the oven, I added one cup of soy sauce, and allowed the belly to braise for two more hours.

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Don't fear gluttony, embrace it.

After the four-hour braise was complete, I carefully removed the pieces of belly and placed them in a single layer  to cool (I found that a 9-by-13 baking dish worked well). I then strained the braising liquid and reduced it on the stove top by about half. I chilled this liquid, then poured it back over the belly, which I had also refrigerated. The photo above depicts the little nuggets of fat that I had initially strained from the braising liquid. I scraped these remnants from the strainer and ate them, of course. I would best describe this by-product as pork belly marmalade. Had there been enough to spread on breakfast toast, I would’ve done so.

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Like butter.

Once refrigerated, the pork belly is pretty much ready to eat. To serve, just heat the pieces in a saute pan with a little of the braising liquid. As the belly warms, the liquid reduces to form a glaze, which can be spooned over the pork. I recommend eating this pork belly over rice, or perhaps on its own. In the photo above, I placed two pieces of belly on a toasted bun, dressed with a little kewpie mayonnaise and some Asian coleslaw. The pork featured the tender consistency of room-temperature butter, and it was incredibly flavorful to boot. Quite a sandwich, if I do say so myself.

In contrast to Marcel, I have absolutely no issue with Lynne (as she’s now known to most), and she’s certainly my sentimental favorite on the show. And why not? Spending three weeks in her Skills III class provided for lots of great chef school stories, many of which might only be entertaining to those who were there. To place things in some context, Skills III is a big milestone for all CIA students; it’s the very first class in the curriculum where the students actually begin cooking food for other people. That fact, in itself, is bound to produce some interesting results. Skills III is the moment where, after 12 introductory weeks of classroom work and knife skills, all of the silly posturing is finally put aside. Those kids who’ve been bragging for the last three months about how they were the kitchen legends at their hometown Outback — well, they finally have to cook something from scratch. The drama served up on Day One of Skills III would become far more visceral (to me, at the time) than anything that I’ve ever seen on “Top Chef.”

As for predictions, I suspect that Lynne will probably finish in the top-middle of the pack, fairly anonymous, but without shame. That’s my hope, anyway. I do happen to know that a few of my old classmates are vehemently rooting against Chef G (Phil “The Godfather” included), hoping that she’ll crash and burn in front of a national audience. Look, I can appreciate that sentiment as well — there were definitely some ugly moments in Skills III. But since I’m still paying good money to the CIA, I’d rather not have my “degree” tarnished any more than it has been (let’s be frank, by many people’s standards, culinary schools are merely trade-school diploma mills). We’ll see how it goes this season on “Top Chef” 7. I think we all know that Angelo, as pompous and unsavory as he is, is the clear front-runner. Hopefully, he’ll choke and finish second-best, out of the money, just like Marcel!

I did, however, enjoy the 2005 Joseph Phelps Backus Vineyard Cabernet ($225), and I felt that the extra $25 would be very well spent purchasing the Backus in lieu of the Insignia. On the other hand, smart money wouldn’t purchase any current-release Napa Cabernet at the $200 level, which is why I haven’t ever purchased Shafer’s “Hillside Select” or Loyoka’s Mount Veeder (these are the two wines that have almost convinced me to reconsider). Although the Backus does boast some terrific attributes — it’s velvety and complex — I can’t say that it ever encouraged me to break my own spending rules, so I wouldn’t place this wine in the same class as Shafer, or Lokoya, or many Napa Cabernets at the $100 level. The Backus was tasty, though. Unfortunately, it’s priced for egos.

One of the more interesting wines of the flight was the 2006 Freestone Sonoma Coast Pinot Noir ($55), which is produced under Phelps’ second label. But again, even though the Sonoma Coast appellation is producing plenty of Pinot Noir gems these days, the retail price of the 2006 Freestone was pushing the upper limits of what might be typical for that quality level. I encountered a similar scenario with the 2008 Joseph Phelps “St. Helena” Sauvignon Blanc ($32) and the 2006 Freestone Chardonnay ($55). Both of these wines were well-crafted, but they were priced at prohibitive levels. Again, if I’m going to spend $50 on Chardonnay, then I’ll simply opt for my all-time favorite, Shafer’s Red Shoulder Ranch. Meanwhile, I can’t ever justify spending more than $30 on Sauvignon Blanc (and that goes for you, too, Duckhorn).

At the risk of sounding cheap and bitter (too late), I did feel that the 2006 Joseph Phelps Merlot ($40) and the 2006 Joseph Phelps Cabernet Sauvignon ($55) presented appropriate values, but I’m not really trying to stock up on my decent-to-good reds these days. Bring on the sparkling, instead.

Long story short, my two years at Houston’s Santa Monica offered me a great education in organization and cleanliness. Those restaurants are impeccable, if there was ever any doubt. And I will always admire the ability of every Houston’s location, including the Rutherford Grill, to generate big covers and turn big profits; their formula is so dialed in, it’s uncanny. If Hillstone Restaurant Group was a publicly-held entity, I would certainly invest heavily in that operation (HRG is still owned by the founder of the original Houston’s Restaurant, which if I remember correctly, was established in Nashville a little over 30 years ago). In a difficult industry, Hillstone is the model of consistency and success, though I will admit that the menu itself can be somewhat pedestrian, at least compared to many other spots in the Napa Valley (but well-executed, don’t get me wrong). That said, I’ve long claimed that the Rutherford Grill cheeseburger was the best in the Napa Valley.

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Although I meant to mention this item several months ago, I am overjoyed that the wretched Napa Valley Grille (no relation to the Rutherfod Grill) finally went belly up in its old Yountville location (unfortunately, there are still other NVG locations in the country, including Los Angeles, the site of one of my worst meals of all-time). Although I never once set foot on the NVG’s Yountville property — grudges being what they are — I’m pretty sure that it offered the same, woefully sub-standard fare as their Los Angeles location. I always wondered who the hell ate the NVG (maybe just tourists), and I pitied those sad saps for choosing so poorly in such a target-rich environment. For as many years as I’ve lived in the Napa Valley, I almost never heard anyone mention their dinner at the Napa Valley Grille. It was weird. I’m sure that, given its key wine-country location, the restaurant saw many first-time visitors, but I’m guessing that poor experiences probably caused a lot of people to remain mum and never return (maybe they were also embarrassed at their own poor judgment).

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With Hillstone Restaurant Group having recently applied for a liquor license at the old Napa Valley Grille location in Yountville, there has been some speculation as to what will emerge in that prime restaurant space. Having once worked for the company (I still know the spinach dip recipe, among others), my immediate guess was that it would be Gulfstream, the company’s seafood concept. When I was living in Los Angeles, Hillstone built a Gulfstream location right across from Houston’s Century City (and thus replacing Steven Spielberg’s abysmal eatery, The Dive). I always felt that the Napa Valley’s coastal proximity could lend itself to such an angle, especially with oyster bars becoming such a hot commodity these days.

However, having gone to culinary school with some current Hillstone employees, I’m told that the new Yountville location will most likely resemble (a) the South Beverly Grill, which just opened in Beverly Hills last month, or else (b) R + D Kitchen, which now has three locations, two in Southern California. More than that, the company has allegedly purchased enough surrounding property to construct a hotel concept (the adjacent Exxon station has been defunct for a while now, and would conceivably present easy pickings for such an endeavor). Frankly, I’m incredulous at the sheer scope of this project, but I understand that this plan presents a real distinct possibility, so I’m going with it for now, since I love a hot rumor. And if that wasn’t enough, it gets even a little better still: This new Younvtille location (name still unspecified) will also serve pizzas (apparently). Yountville needs pizza.