Chinese Braised Pork Belly

OK, this one is a bit of an undertaking. I’m aware of that. It may not be easy to find the necessary ingredients. I’m aware of that, too. And it’s time consuming. But hear me out. Because this one was amazingly good. Seriously, it was. And I don’t say that as a boast—I was just following directions. But damn. If you can get the requisite ingredients, you have to try this.

Vegans, vegetarians, and pescetarians: sorry, but I got nothing for you on this one. Check back next time.

This is a Chinese-influenced dish in which one braises a pork belly for a long period of time, and then serves it on buns as a kind of small sandwich. I’m trying very hard not to call this a slider, because the word has long outlived its usefulness. And besides, once the pork is braised, you needn’t go the sandwich route at all; this would be very good on rice with some steamed or stir-fried vegetables.

The first task is obtaining a fresh pork belly. This is the part of the pig which is used to make bacon in the US (different cuts are used in the UK and Canada). And although bacon is easy to find, most supermarkets don’t carry pork belly in my neck of the woods. However, if you have access to an actual butcher (unlikely, but you never know) OR if you have an Asian market within striking distance (Props to Salt Lake City's Tay Do Supermarket), it’s possible to purchase one. They weigh around 2 pounds each, and look like this:

For this recipe, which I got from Michelle Humes at Serious Eats, you only need a pound of the stuff, so I bisected mine and put half of it in the freezer. I sleep better just knowing that it’s in there. Bonus: pork belly is cheap.

You cut the 1-pound chunk into three pieces, presumably so that it cooks more quickly, maybe? Not sure that was really necessary, but I did it anyway. I also scored this skin, which I don’t think was necessary but it looked pretty before the cooking. After 3 hours of simmering, it was less visually pleasing, so you can probably skip it.

Now you have to brown the pork. And this was the only part of the recipe that gave me pause. Humes calls for you to combine two tablespoons of oil with two tablespoons of sugar in a pot and heat until the sugar dissolves and turns golden. True confession time: sugar syrups scare me somewhat, thanks in part to an unfortunate incident with some caramel many years ago. And I'd never heard of melting sugar in oil before. But I sallied forth.

And it was OK. The oil did spit and spatter a lot more (and a lot more loudly) than usual while the meat was browning, but there were no problems otherwise. Nevertheless, given how easily sugar can burn, I would advise keeping a close eye on the pot while heating the oil and browning the meat—I did lower the heat on mine when I felt that things were getting a little too brown.

Next, you add water and the various flavorings, one of which is Chinese five-spice powder. This is an ingredient I have not had great success with in the past. I suspect that one reason is that recipe writers underestimate how strong it is and subsequently overuse it; the result can be a dish that tastes of five-spice powder and nothing else. A lot of recipe writers have the same problem with dark sesame oil—it’s delicious, but powerful, and can take over a dish if overused. But I digress.

The recipe calls for you to add water to cover the pork and then add all of the flavorings. But because I’ve been taught that spices should be toasted or sautéed briefly in every dish, I threw in the five-spice powder first and stirred it around for a few seconds. Then in went the water, garlic, ginger, salt and soy sauce. Why would you add salt AND soy sauce? No idea.

Bring it to a boil and skim off any scum that comes to the surface—I’m not sure that this is absolutely necessary, and I suspect it’s done for aesthetic reasons. That said, it’s easy, so I did it.

Then you lower the heat and simmer this uncovered for several hours, topping up the water if necessary so that the pork stays submerged. Simmer for 3 to 4 hours, or until the pork is fork-tender. Actually, Humes says to cook it “until pork is very tender and fat is easily penetrated with a spoon,” but I must confess that I’m not entirely sure what that means. So I went with fork-tender. 



Set the pork on a plate while you finish the sauce.

Actually, it’s more of a glaze than a sauce. Humes has you strain the cooking liquid. She doesn’t say to skim the fat off of it, but I did so, because it seemed the right thing to do, and health is always going to be a primary consideration when you’re eating a pork belly.

That was a joke.

However, Humes says to reduce the liquid over high heat until lightly thickened and glossy. Maybe my pot was bigger than hers, or maybe I overdid the topping-up-the-water-to-keep-the-pork-submerged bit, but my liquid reduced…

And reduced…

And reduced…

And re…look, it took a long time, OK? Like close to half an hour. Not that that’s a tragedy or anything, but in case the 3-4 hour simmering time hadn’t already clued you in, this is not fast food. But it is so, so worth it. While the sauce bubbles away, slice the pork into pieces, which is quite easy since it’s ready to fall apart anyway.

And toss them with the reduced sauce. Try not to eat the whole damned thing at this point.

If you’ve looked at Humes’ recipe, you’ll see that she pretty much makes everything from scratch, including the mayonnaise.* I love homemade mayonnaise, and should you be like minded, check out J. Kenji Lopez-Alt’s instructions on how to make it in about 2 minutes. However, should you prefer not to, the bottled stuff is fine here, especially since you’re going to add a bunch of sriracha sauce to it. Well, I used sriracha, but any hot sauce you like will suffice.

Humes tops her pork with cabbage that has been stir-fried with a bit of sugar and sesame oil, which is quick and easy, and quite delicious. Kimchi, or other pickled vegetables would work quite nicely as well. If you bought your pork at an Asian market, you could probably pick up some kimchi at the same time. This didn’t occur to me while I was at the market, though, so I went ahead and cooked some cabbage.

Btw, I only cooked a small amount of cabbage because, despite what you might think, I was not going to consume all of the pork in one sitting. Also, the cabbage shrinks considerably as it cooks.

Now all that’s left is assembly. Humes uses steamed Chinese buns for this. I’ve never been terribly fond of those, so I arrogantly substituted sandwich rolls. Shmear the rolls/buns with a bit of the chili-spiked mayo. 



Add the glorious pork. 



Top with the cabbage/kimchi/pickled whatever. 



Gorge.

I fear I may have made these sound difficult. They are not. They are time-consuming, but they’re not hard to do. And they are so, so tasty. Hunt down a store that sells pork bellies—hell, hunt down a pig if necessary. Then make them next weekend.

Bon appetìt, y’all.

Recipe note: The full recipe from Michelle Humes can be found here. However, I thought it might be useful to have just the braised pork section separately, so I’ve provided it below.

Ingredients:

2 tablespoons vegetable oil

2 tablespoons sugar

1 pound boneless pork belly, cut in three equal-sized pieces

2 tablespoons soy sauce

2 sticks cinnamon and 2 whole star anise or 1 tablespoon five-spice powder

3 1/3-inch slices peeled fresh ginger

3 cloves garlic, peeled

1 1/2 teaspoons salt

Water

Procedures:

1.     In a large Dutch oven or wok, heat oil and sugar over medium-high heat, swirling vessel until sugar liquefies and turns a warm amber color.



2.     Place pork belly slices in wok and sear on all sides, about 1 minute per side, using tongs to turn.



3.     Pour enough cold water into vessel to cover the pork. Add soy sauce, spices, ginger, garlic, and salt. Bring to a boil and skim any scum that rises to the surface. Reduce heat to low and simmer, uncovered, for 3-4 hours, until pork is very tender and fat is easily penetrated with a spoon. If water level falls during cooking, replenish so that pork remains submerged.



4.     Remove pork belly and set aside. Strain solids from braising liquid and return liquid to pan. Over high heat, reduce until lightly thickened and glossy. Adjust seasoning if necessary.



5.     Slice pork into 1/3-inch thick slices. Lightly coat in reduced braising sauce.



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*Pedantic geek note: Humes calls this chili-spiked mayonnaise an aïoli. It is not an aïoli. Aïoli is a garlic-flavored mayonnaise native to Spain and southern France. Just sayin’.