I lost $958.16. What Will You Gain?

And a Recipe for Fennel + Coriander Fall-Apart Pork Shoulder with Meyer Lemons, Cream, and a Very Important Garnish

I was scammed on Tuesday, swindled by a sophisticated team of Con Edison imposters. $958.16: Poof! Out of my account. And into someone else’s grimy, soulless pocket with a Zelle account linked to a 616 area code.

Feeling just a wee bit vulnerable here

I internalized anger, frustration, embarrassment, feelings of violation, of victimization, of dumbassery. On most days, I feel like a pretty savvy human of the world, with hackles on high alert like any self-respecting Metrocard-carrying New Yorker of 20 years. But Tuesday was not most days. 

Soured but pressing on, the next morning I pulled my bootstraps high, put forth my best it’s-a-new-day ‘tude, and sat down to write this week’s newsletter. This is a big one. See, what comes below is a recipe I’ll be making for as long as I’m still able to chew. And in anticipation of sharing the goods here, I had been circling around the following quandary for the past three weeks: HOW I AM GOING TO CONVINCE PEOPLE TO COOK THIS?  

And so I began. I wrote at the top of the page, “How do you convince someone to do something? How is one moved to action?”

And then, like lemonade from lemons— ding, ding, ding— I remembered the ring, ring, ring of my phone from the day before. I recalled how those smarmy, swindling slime balls— despite my street smarts, despite my sober state, despite all the karmic coins I’ve spent years collecting– CONVINCED ME TO DO SOMETHING. 

If I could just put my finger on exactly how they got me, then maybe I could figure out how to get you (to make this damned recipe).

From the prospective of the scamee, here’s how I think I got duped:

I was in the right place and the right headspace at the right time. I was frenetic with work. I was starving. My defenses were down.

They were legit. Their 800 number came up as “Con Ed” on my caller ID. A friendly (and familiar) automated voice told me that my account was past due because my autopay needed to be renewed. I was transferred to George Ellis, ID #1054, extension 1088. Legit.  

I trusted them. George was calm as he explained away my confusion and talked me through the strange process that ultimately had me make three separate payments to their account. He was patient, understanding, even sympathetic. And so I paid. When at one point I questioned whether he and his cohorts were scamming me, he was reassuring and told me that scammers ask for banking information. And so I paid them yet again. And again. Until I reached my daily transfer limit on Zelle.

I wanted to be efficient. I remember feeling proud of myself as I paid my “bill” right then and there. Look at me, crossing off the freshest addition to my Task List, nary a delinquent bill hanging over my head.

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WHAT’S THIS HAVE TO DO WITH PORK?

Maybe it was a stretch for me to think that I could glean something from these con men and that in understanding how they convinced me to do something bad, I could get you to do something very, very good. 

But I don’t think I’m that far off in drawing similarities between my relationship with George and my relationship with you. At times, you may find yourself frenetically rushing, starving, needing to get things done efficiently. And I aim to be patient, understanding, and calm when I explain away confusion (in the kitchen).

Perhaps you have an unsuspecting disposition like me. I hope I’ve caught you at the right place at the right time.

Ultimately, it’s a leap of faith to follow someone’s lead. I get it. But I’m asking you to trust me. Because I’m kind of legit? And I won’t even make you pay. 

Minimal investment required

Fennel + Coriander Fall-Apart Pork Shoulder with Meyer Lemons, Cream, and a Very Important Garnish

Even before I started digging into the tactics of my scammers, I had been thinking (for weeks) about how to coerce you into cooking this recipe. What is it with this one? Why is THIS the dish I’m so invested in, that I’m sure will populate repeat dinner party tabletops, and that may inspire you to tell your friends to NOODLE with us?

One for me, one for George. Actually, both for me.

THE CLIFFSNOTES: LEMON, CREAM, PORK, FENNEL. NO SKILL REQUIRED.

1. Rub pork shoulder with lots of finely ground fennel and coriander seeds, red pepper flakes, and s&p. 2. Add to a pot with Meyer lemon juice and peels, broth, fennel bulb and stalks, onion, garlic, and herbs. 3. Hands off for 3½ hours. 4. Brown in a hot oven (*backward braising!), finish with cream, zest, more juice. (No, the cream won’t curdle, like pork-in-milk dishes do.) Active time is 20 minutes. Serve it with whatever– polenta, rice, greens, toasty bread, a frozen waffle.

Break out the straws

PLOT TWIST: THE SLABBY SLICE. YOU WON’T GO BACK.

I have a solution to a problem you likely didn’t know you had. Consider this my call to arms to forever change the format of the classic 8-10 pound pork shoulder roast. I’m always bummed by the interior of these colossal cuts. Zero opportunity for flavors from a rub– or even just a coating of salt and pepper– to infiltrate the meat, unless you have at least a day or more to marinate.

I'm considering a rebrand: Nora Slab Singley

Somewhere between the small cubes you’d use for a pork stew and the honkin’ 8-10 pound roast you’d make for a family reunion is the Goldilocks of cuts: 2-inch thick, slabby slices of pork shoulder. Shingle them into your Dutch oven, coat every inch with spices and seasonings, and— hallelujah!— the aromatics actually pervade. Bonus: cooking time is slashed, too.

DO LIKE I DID AND PAY YOUR DUES IMMEDIATELY

Don’t wait to make this recipe. Meyer lemons are in season NOW and they’re key. Also YES, this is a braise and it’s late April not January, and YES I’ve featured two recipes with meat in a pot in the past month, but nights are still chilly in the West and the East (I don’t have a read on the Middle) and the pot will be going away for the summer soon enough. With all of the brightness of the lemon (the recipe calls for 5… that’s 1 lemon per pound of meat, and the peels turn into a divine reincarnation of themselves– melting and fatty), I promise you’ll find that the dish bridges the gap between seasons almost as sweetly as the way in which I ACTUALLY APOLOGIZED TO MY FRAUDSTERS when I felt I had gotten a bit short with them.

FENNEL: NEVER A TAKER, ALWAYS A GIVER

This week was supposed to be the first in a 2-parter about the depths of my love for fennel. But now that my scamming has taken such center stage, all of the vegetal sweet nothings will have to wait for next week. I’ve even lined up a very special guest chef.

Representing 90% of fennel parts: fennel seeds, bulb, stalks, and fronds.

But here’s a teaser: fennel is the biggest giver out there, with five distinct parts, all usable. When the seeds pair with coriander, and are ground as finely as salt, the two together become crudely bold: aromatic beyond belief, sweet’ish, and especially soulful when paired with pork, lemon, and cream. I treat coriander and fennel the way some treat salt and pepper. A solid duo.

In this dish, we’re taking fennel for nearly all she’s worth by also using the bulb, the stalks, and the fronds. Only missing the pollen. (Billing George market rate for that one. $200/lb. )

BUSY? YOU’RE JUST LIKE ME

THIS IS THE RECIPE OF THE BUSY PERSON’S DREAMS. The hardest thing you’ll do is grind the spices.

And hot technique alert, especially suited for us busy bees: The Reverse Braise.

Don’t sear the meat first. Instead, just throw everything into the pot at once– a real “eyes closed” moment— and increase your oven temp to do the browning at the end of cooking.

But it’s not only for ease that I often prefer this method. I feel that the exterior edges of a large roast can sustain a certain dryness from being seared first: so harshly marked in a hot pan before being cooked for hours and hours. Unless blessed with a seriously generous fat cap, meat for braising doesn’t always want to be seared. Crisping the meat after it’s cooked through makes for a more succulent roast overall.  

It’s the way I cook brisket, too.

SIGN ON THE DOTTED LINE: DON’T FORGET

A note on the fresh rosemary finisher: don’t leave it out! I can count on ONE FINGER the number of times I’ve used fresh rosemary as a garnish. One! This is the moment, and it’ll change the dish. Chop the needles super finely, so it feels more akin to salt when you sprinkle. Be conservative, and you’ll be converted. 

Chop ‘til you can’t chop no more. Aim for the fine chop on the right.

Fennel + Coriander Fall Apart Pork Shoulder With Meyer Lemons, Cream, And A Very Important Garnish

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Fennel + Coriander Fall-Apart Pork Shoulder with Meyer Lemons, Cream, and a Very Important Garnish

Serves 6-8  

REMEMBER, BEST PRACTICES: READ THE RECIPE ALL THE WAY THROUGH BEFORE YOU START COOKING!

You know the concept of a book-end. This repeat-worthy braise is an example of how it can play out in culinary terms: the initial spice rub sends this dish outta the gates with a promising start, and the finish… oh, the finish: I’m so excited to have you experience a change of heart about fresh rosemary. When super finely chopped, rosemary is actually enjoyable when fresh (controversial, I know) and heightens flavors and depth like only salt and pepper can. Add to that the addition of fresh Meyer lemon juice, lots of zest, and heavy cream, and… well, consider the book closed. 

2 tablespoons fennel seeds

1 tablespoon coriander seeds

¾ teaspoon red pepper flakes

Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper 

5 pounds boneless pork shoulder roast, cut crosswise into 2-inch slabs

1 large or 2 small-medium fennel, preferably with long stalks

4-5 Meyer lemons

1 large yellow onion, peeled and cut into 1 ½-inch wedges

1 head garlic, cut crosswise in half (skins left on)

1 (6-inch) sprig rosemary, or comparable, plus additional needles, very finely chopped, for serving

8 sprigs thyme, plus additional leaves for serving 

3 cups low-sodium chicken broth

½ cup heavy cream

Polenta, rice, greens, grains, or toasty bread, for serving

1. Combine fennel seeds and coriander seeds in a spice mill, mortar and pestle, or (clean) coffee grinder. Grind until fine. Transfer to a bowl and add the red pepper flakes, 1 tablespoon plus 1 teaspoon salt, and 1 ½ teaspoons black pepper. (That’s more than just a couple of grindings on your peppermill… be generous here!) Mix to combine. The hardest part of this recipe is over. 

2. Place pork pieces on a work surface (or simply on the paper in which they were wrapped) and sprinkle with the spice mixture, pressing the spices into the meat and rolling the pieces around in any excess that falls off to coat all sides and edges thoroughly. If you can, do this an hour or up to 2 days in advance to let the seasonings really infiltrate the meat. 

3. When ready to cook, preheat the oven to 350 degrees with a rack in the lower third.

4. Prep the fennel: cut the stalks off of the bulb and reserve. Halve the bulb (or bulbs) and cut lengthwise into 1 ½-inch wedges. Reserve some fronds for garnish. Any fronds that remain on the stalks can be used in the braise. 

5. Transfer the pork to a large Dutch oven with a tight-fitting lid. Peel 2 Meyers lemon with a vegetable peeler. Add the peels to the pot, along with the fennel wedges and a big handful of the stalks. Add the onions, garlic, rosemary, and thyme. Nestle everything into the pot so that the meat is somewhat shingled and the aromatics are evenly scattered on top, between, and beneath. Add the chicken stock and the juice of two Meyer lemons (about ⅓ cup).

*NOTE: If the pot feels crammed, don’t worry! As cooking progresses, meat and vegetables will shrink, and you’ll be able to maneuver the contents of the pot more easily into an even layer.

6. Cover the pot and transfer to the oven. Let roast, basting every 45 minutes and shifting the meat and vegetables as they cook into as even a layer as possible. After 3 to 3 ½ hours, the meat will be pull-apart tender and the aromatics will be meltingly tender and nearly integrated into the cooking liquid. 

7. Increase oven temperature to 425 degrees. Remove the pot from the oven and pull out any unruly herb sprigs, fennel stalks, or garlic skins. Don’t discard the lemon peels– they are delightfully edible. In fact, keep them all to yourself!

Tip the pot to one side and, using a big spoon, skim as much fat off of the top of the cooking liquid as possible. Alternatively, if making this in advance, don’t skim any fat at this point. Transfer the pot to the refrigerator with the lid somewhat ajar, and let chill until ready to serve. Skim any solidified fat and rewarm on the stovetop until the liquid is bubbling before proceeding.  

8. Return the pot to the oven and continue to cook, uncovered, basting halfway through and turning pieces over to expose more areas to crisp, until liquid has reduced a bit and the top of the meat has slightly browned, about 20 minutes.

9. Remove from the oven, add the juice of 1 Meyer lemon to the pot and gently shake to distribute, using a spoon as necessary to mix. Add the heavy cream and shake and stir until incorporated. At this point, I like to start pulling the meat into large pieces, nestling them into the braising liquid and dousing them in the sauce. Now taste a bit of the meat and a bit of the sauce. Add more salt and additional lemon juice to reach desired depth of flavor and brightness. 

10. Serve, over polenta, rice, greens, grains, or toasty bread, garnished with a generous smattering of finely grated Meyer lemon rind and additional (yes– additional!) fresh Meyer lemon juice atop each portion. The pork really soaks in the liquid so that final squeeze of lemon is EVERYTHING. Plan on using up to 2 more Meyers for serving, presenting lemon halves at the table to encourage even more DIY garnishing. Top with fennel fronds and fresh thyme, if desired. 

Finally, sprinkle with the finely chopped rosemary– about a pinch or two per plate. A little goes a long way, but don’t leave this out!