Wielding the Mighty Power of Pork

Yesterday evening, I created a monster. A monster powerful enough to infuse a house with flavor. At last, I slow-roasted some pork shoulder. The label called it pork butt/shoulder, which bewilders me. I've seen pigs before, and their anatomy doesn't suggest their shoulders are anywhere near their rear ends. Maybe these are freak pigs from the Amazon.

The friends who piggy-backed on my journey? An ancient Cuisinart blender, a big porcelain baking dish, a yellow onion, four garlic cloves, dried mustard, brown sugar, white wine vinegar, oregano, cumin, salt, black pepper, and chili powder. (I decided to follow The Pioneer Woman's recipe).

In any event, the pictures will document my journey. I only opened the oven three times. Once after ten minutes of cooking (I guess I really do have OCD), once two hours in to see if I needed to add more liquid, and lastly to remove the butts from their nice long nap.

It's like two pigs fightin' under a blanket. These pork butts got back! Each weighing in at about 3.5 pounds and boneless, I slightly trimmed some of the top fat layer before introducing them to their aromatic rub.


The yellow onion was SHARP! If that's even how it should be described. BOY did it make me cry. Butt, soon enough, I knew they'd be tears of joy. And then the Cuisinart didn't work. Maybe I should have taken the "I haven't used this blender in years since it doesn't normally work" comment from my mom more seriously. Or at least tested it out before I had loaded it up with ingredients.


On to plan B. My college blender. I used to curse it for its inability to crush ice, but it worked out just fine on the onion. Crisis averted.

And then I slathered the blended rub all over the pork butts finding every nook and cranny. I stared at them for a few minutes, admiring their beauty and wiping the stinging onion tears from my eyes. It was still so potent. Then I popped them into a 300 degree oven at 10:00pm and set my alarm for 5:00am. Seven hours should do the trick, I thought.

Next it was time to make some barbecue sauce. This was taken from a Bobby Flay recipe that I ever-so-slightly modified by adding sauteed onion and making a roux so that it would turn out thicker than it has for me in the past. In this mixture is dry mustard, brown sugar, apple cider vinegar, Worcestershire sauce, molasses, soy sauce, salt, ground black pepper, and water. Sweet and tangy! It will be used tomorrow on some pulled pork sandwiches.

I finally went to bed sometime after midnight by which point the smells from the oven had wafted their way around the premises. I woke up several times, each to a more intense aroma. Luckily I was too tired to get up each time to check on my project, but the mouth-watering scent eventually worked its way into my dreams. And then, at last, I woke up on my own at 4:59am and hopped out of bed to retrieve my presents from the oven.

Oh sweet goodness. The rub had crisped up on its own on the top layer of fat which protected the succulent meat falling apart below. And oh, the aroma was times ten. I think it was a good thing both of my roommates were out of town because it was ridiculous. After using a spatula and tongs to lift each butt out of the baking liquid, I looked in horror at the inside of the pan. My mother's going to kill me. The top two inches of the white porcelain were soot black. The clear lid was also black. I used Pam, but my attempts to wipe it away with a paper towel to see how strongly it stuck was fruitless. I decided to deal with it later. More important pressing items lay ahead. The pulling of the pork! After letting the meat sit for about 20 minutes, I put each butt on a separate plate lined with paper towels to mop up some of the grease and grabbed two forks out of the utensil drawer.

After removing the top layer of fat/skin, I pulled away. Look at that! So tender, so juicy, so layered with flavor. At this point it was about 5:45am and I was shredding my pork. I paused here and there to eat some, but it was as if time stood still. And finally, I was finished. The fruits of my labor.

I wish my old camera could better capture the radiance of colors and textures of the finished product. The fragrance of the tender shreds of meat permeated my inner being and every last inch of my house. When I returned home from work the next day, I opened the front door to an assault of smells. Good smells, but it was like a gust of wind hit me in the face. I knew the aromas were strong, but hadn't noticed how powerful they were until I had left and come back. Everything and anything with cloth in the house absorbed the smell of the pork and the rub. Having seen a TV commercial where a less-than-attractive woman at a bar reeled in many a man due to the bacon in her purse gave me a feeling of confidence. If I don't air the house out, I may have weeks and weeks to wield the power of this pork scent in my favor.