Praise the Lard!!
Around my neck of the woods, lard is called soul grease. Now this isn’t something I take part in but my brother Tim, of Bluebird farm does. He has been a huge fan of using lard to cook all of his dishes. I am not against it for health reasons, for me it is a matter of taste. I don’t want my aforementioned turnips, for example, tasting of soul grease. However, like many trends of the past, soul grease is making a comeback.
Pork reigns. Braised belly, Berkshire chops, even bacon ice cream—pig is big on menus all around the Bay Area. As hogs wallow in the spotlight, it only follows that lard would nose its way back into our good graces. The unfairly maligned cooking fat is slowly regaining its place in the kitchen. Even health gurus are giving lard the nod, now that they realize it’s lower in saturated fats and higher in monounsaturated “good” fats than butter. And if you think it will make your fried chicken taste like fried pork chops, think again. Surprisingly delicate and clean-flavored, lard leaves no perceptible aftertaste. Pure lard hasn’t been easy to find—don’t even think about those blocks of hydrogenated lard at the supermarket. They’re no better than trans fat–laden shortening. But now Prather Ranch Meat Company is selling tubs of lard, slowly rendered from the fat of pasture-raised heritage pigs. A high smoke point means it’s ideal for frying, and nothing makes a flakier piecrust. Save the olive oil for your vinaigrette, and the butter for your bread. Next time you fry potatoes or make a tart, put your faith in the lard. Prather Ranch Meat Company: Ferry Building Marketplace (Market St. at Embarcadero), S.F., 415-391-0420, prmeatco.com
San Francisco Magazine
AMEN! We don’t have a reliable source of lard in our house, but every time we cook bacon we corral the decadent, gorgeous juice into a jar to be kept in the cupboard until the next time we make hashbrowns…or brussels sprouts…or caramelized onions…or…you get the point! It feels as satisfying a cycle as tossing the carrot tops on the compost pile to ultimately be turned into soil for the next crop of carrots: each dish has a little love passed on from the previous. Too bad our bacon doesn’t come from our own hog…Maybe when we move back to Portland we will raise a pig or two, like my dad did when we were kids. I remember going to the corner donut shop for their leftovers to fatten them off each year! Love you, Wendy! -erin