Recipes: Citrusy Carnitas

Having lived in both California and Texas, my taste buds have an acute hankering for Mexican food more often than not. This is a problem now that I'm living in Brisbane, where Mexican food is just now trending in a big way and will no doubt take a while before it's done really well. This means I cook a lot of it at home, which is actually a wonderful excuse to play around with my favourite Mexican dishes.

One of them is carnitas, which means "little meats" in Spanish, and is typically made by braising a well-marbled cut of pork for a few hours. Pork shoulder works for me. I usually slow cook chunks of it in a spicy salsa bath, but I decided to try something different this time, which, funnily enough, is probably the more common way of making them.

Freshly squeezed orange and lime juice combined with a few other ingredients is all you need to make succulent, flavourful carnitas—as long as you don't break the cardinal rule by trimming the fat. That would be a huge mistake as we finish braising the pork in its own fatty goodness. If there isn't enough, the pork won't be as tender. (Traditional carnitas call for lard, but I'm all for the no added fat option.)

Carnitas

1 kilogram pork shoulder

3 limes

2 oranges

5 garlic cloves, crushed with the side of a knife then minced

2 teaspoons ground cumin

1 teaspoon chili flakes

1 teaspoon salt, or more to taste

water, as needed

1. Cut the shoulder into chunks and place in a Dutch oven or heavy-bottomed pot.

2. Squeeze the juice from the oranges and limes and pour over the pork.

3. Stir in the garlic, chili flakes, salt and cumin.

4. Add water until the pork is just covered.

5. Bring to a boil before dropping the heat to low and simmering for two hours. If the liquid looks like it's going to evaporate before the two hours are up, add a little more water. 

6. After two hours turn the heat up to medium high and cook another 45 minutes, stirring and turning the meat occasionally until all the liquid has evaporated and the pork is left sizzling in the rendered fat. When the pieces have browned the carnitas are done. Shred the pork or cut into smaller pieces. 

I usually serve carnitas with black beans, warmed tortillas, and homemade salsa and guacamole. This time though a healthy green bean salad with a Mexican twist (from the food blog Simply Recipes) was added to the spread.   

If you don't have any tortillas, don't worry. In fact, you don't even need to use them if you do. I actually preferred the carnitas without them this time, as a tortilla would have slightly concealed the beautiful flavour and texture of the meat. 

Spoon on a little salsa to taste and dig in!

Drenched in Riesling: A Journey Through Australia's Clare Valley Part II

Mr Mick's Wine & Restaurant in Clare. I love the beautiful brick building, draped in autumn colours.

In case you missed Part I click here to catch up! After a goodnight's sleep we cooked up some breakfast using fresh ingredients provided by the lodge, making sure to adequately line our stomachs in preparation for a day of wine tasting. The luminous yellow light that swept through our room helped wake us up—that and a strong cup of coffee. 

A knock on the door at 11:30 and we were off in a chauffeured car to the first winery of the day. For $40 bucks an hour I hired a car driven by a refreshingly earthy woman who would take us where ever we wanted to go throughout the day. I certainly recommend doing this for a few hours should you ever find yourself in Clare.

First stop was Jim Barry, one of the more well-known wineries in Clare.

We met Ben, a 20-something wine buff, at the cellar door who started us off on our tasting. We tasted a couple of rieslings, including Lavender Hill, which I did not like. It's Jim Barry's sweet take on riesling, and its syrup-like texture just doesn't do it for me personally. My favourite was The Florita, the 2008 vintage, which is named after the seventy-five acre block of the same name. Aged a few years already, The Florita is a beautiful example of an Australian dry riesling. We bought half a case and plan to age most of them quite a few more years to further bring out the toasty flavour I adore. We also purchased a bottle of the The McRae Wood 1999 vintage, a full-bodied shiraz with notes of blueberry and menthol. Peter and I will probably open it soon.

View from the tasting room out to Jim Barry's Lodge Hill vineyard

After Jim Barry we went to Knappstein, another popular winery in the Clare. It's also a micro-brewery. In fact, Knappstein's Bavarian-style lager is one of my favourite beers.

The original brewery, called Clare Brewery, started up in 1878, the same time the building that houses the tasting room was erected. It wasn't until the 1960s that Knappstein began producing wines.

My favourite part of this tasting was when I was introduced to sparkling riesling. With the Clare Valley's prolific production of riesling it would have been silly not to experiment with making it bubbly. As a lover of sparkling styles and of riesling, I enjoyed it immensely. Little did I know I would be meeting more drops of the stuff along the wine trail.

Other standouts were the 2010 Ackland Watervale Riesling, with its grapes coming from a single, circa 1969, vineyard, and the 2011 Rosé made with sangiovese and cabernet sauvignon.

We finished up at Knappstein and drove just under 15 kilometers south, where we arrived in Polish Hill, a sub-region of the Clare Valley. The grapes in Clare are grown either here or in another sub-region called Watervale. 

We had made it to our third winery, Pikes. Fortunately for us, this was one of our favourite cellar door experiences during our stay. Unfortunately for you this means I was so enjoying chatting with the knowledgeable and friendly cellar door oenophile that I failed to snap any photos. Ugh.

Pikes Wines is as old as me (I'll leave it up to you to find out how many years that is) and produces a number of varietals that are rare in the Clare Valley, including viognier and savignin. The latter was caught up in a case of mistaken identity back in 2009 when, after DNA testing, Pikes and a number of other Australian wine makers discovered that what they thought were albarino grapes planted in their vineyards—a grape varietal from northwest Spain—were actually savignin grapes, from eastern France. Pikes laughed it off and slapped a fitting name on the bottles: 'Impostores' Savignan. 

After bidding farewell to our cellar door friend, we jumped back in the car and headed to Skillogalee for a late lunch. The timing couldn't have been more perfect given the amount of wine I had tasted by this point, and, despite pouring most of the wine into buckets (even the ones I liked), I was feeling a pleasant wine buzz which was likely to evolve into something else had I failed to get some sustenance in me. 

Any visit to Clare Valley has to include a meal at Skillogalee winery and restaurant. The food is delicious and the surroundings are simply breathtaking. Be sure to reserve a seat outside, preferably under the enormous olive tree.

Peter looking perfectly content

Under the olive tree

Before settling on what to eat we tasted a selection of Skillogallee wines with the intention of pairing our food with something we like.

Another sparkling riesling on the right

After deciding on a gewürztraminer, something I never usually order but found this one to be quite dry and nicely complex, we sat back down at our table to take in the view and order. The setting is so picturesque here I couldn't help but take a whole heap of photos.  

Love the old building

After lunch we got back down to business with one last winery, Kilikanoon. Driving between wineries was an experience in itself, with an impressive collection of native plants and trees passing us out the window.

Kilikanoon, a heavily awarded winery, produces more reds than whites.  Most of its 300 hectares of vineyards are in the Clare Valley, the rest are spread out around the Barossa and Adelaide regions. The 2011 Mort's Block Watervale Riesling was one of the best rieslings I had tasted all day. Again, it would do well cellaring for a few years, if not longer, but it was smooth, citrusy and extremely crisp—perfect with a slice of salty gruyere on a warm summer day. As for the red wines, I enjoyed the 2009 Prodigal Grenache, the 2008 'Medley' of grenache, shiraz and mourvedre and the 2009 Block's Road Cabernet Sauvignon, all of which, I was told, would do well with a good decant or more years in the bottle. 

After our last taste of the day, a luscious dessert wine made from (yep, you guessed it) riesling, we ended the day back at the lodge with a selection of cheeses, cured meats and salads. (Although I probably should have gone for a jog instead.)

Sevenhill Cellars

We checked out of Brice Hill Lodge the following morning and drove back down to Adelaide, but not without stopping at a couple more wineries along the way. One of them was Sevenhill Cellars, the oldest winery in Clare Valley. The vineyard was established by Jesuits in 1851 to produce sacramental wine, which continues today.  It's the last remaining Jesuit-owned winery in Australia. The grounds, which are home to the winery, museum and church, are beautifully maintained.

Tasting room entrance

After Sevenhill we made one more stop before heading out of town. We were feeling quite peckish and decided to grab a bite at The Little Red Grape, a cafe and boutique a number of people in the Clare Valley had recommended. We shared a delicious plate of local foods including olives, kangaroo, quail, sliced apple and sourdough. Everything was delicious and made for a perfect end to our holiday in the wine country.

Would I return? Absolutely. The Clare Valley wine region is refreshingly unpretentious and genuinely welcoming. And hey, there aren't many pubs you walk into and find a table of scruffy blokes sharing a couple bottles of a nice red. 

Snapshots: Weeknight Cooking for Friends

For most of us, Mondays aren't usually welcomed with a smile. That's why it's good to do something special once in a while so you can look forward to the start of the week instead of spurning it. That's what I did this week and it certainly helped beat the Monday blues.

Shae, Dave, and their son Flynn came over for dinner and a touch of wine (Flynn's experience was sans wine, of course!) I decided took make two dishes I had been craving from the A16 cookbook, a favourite in this house: braised cannellini beans with garlic, marjoram and oregano; and pasta with homemade oven-dried tomatoes, garlic, and chili. Although I have to admit that, in retrospect, I probably should have served the beans first, followed by the pasta, and it would have been wise to include a salad of some sort. But hey, this was Monday. Surely I can be forgiven for serving two ridiculously filling dishes together...

Going in the oven for six hours

Love this Nero d'Avola

The tomatoes could have stayed in longer, but they turned out nicely and we all decided it was better they were still a bit juicy.

My toughest critic.

Flynn gave his seal of approval.

French Onion Soup With Homemade Chicken Stock

With the temperature dropping, albeit ever so slightly (after all, this is Brisbane not Melbourne!), a warmer meal seemed just the thing to welcome Autumn into our kitchen. Although Peter and I successfully used our turkey carcass to make a super rich French Onion Soup after Christmas last year, I decided to try out chicken this time. 

I made the stock alla Alice Waters, that is, by throwing the whole chicken into a large pot of water then removing the poached breasts an hour or so later for use in another dish. Use this method and you'll have a delicious, full-bodied broth. 

French Onion Soup with Homemade Chicken Stock

serves 4-6

For the stock:

1 whole free-range chicken (around 1.5 kilos), preferably organic

5 1/2 litres cold water, or thereabouts

2 garlic cloves

1 carrot, peeled and cut in half

1 celery stalk

1/2 teaspoon whole black peppercorns

3-4 springs flat parsley

For the soup:

3 cups brown onion, thinly sliced

1 1/2 tablespoons unsalted butter

1/2 tablespoon olive oil

1 1/2 tablespoons flour

5 cups chicken stock

1/2 teaspoon brown sugar

1/4 cup dry white wine

1-2 tablespoons brandy

3-4 slices sourdough bread, cut into medium sized cubes

1-1 1/2 cups gruyere cheese, grated

salt and pepper to taste

To make the stock:

*Remember: After an hour or so of simmering pull the chicken out of the pot, remove the breasts, and return it back to the pot. You can use the breasts in another dish.*

Place the chicken in a large pot and pour in the cold water until the chicken is submerged. Turn the heat to high and bring to a boil. Drop the heat immediately to low and gently simmer, making sure to skim off the foam, if any should rise to the surface. Don't let it boil for long or it will make the stock cloudy.

Add the carrot, celery, garlic, pepper, and flat leaf parsley to the pot.

Simmer uncovered for around 4 to 5 hours, remove the chicken, then strain and add salt to taste. Put the 5 cups needed for the soup aside and refrigerate or freeze the rest.

To make the soup:

1. Melt the butter with the oil in a large saucepan over medium-high heat. Add the sliced onion and cook slowly for around 15 minutes.

2. Add the brown sugar and salt and cook, covered, for around 30 minutes. Stir occasionally and keep an eye on them. You want the onions to caramelise and to become golden and soft.

3. Add the flour and stir the pot for a few minutes.

4. Pour in the broth and cook, stirring for another couple of minutes. Add the wine, then the salt and pepper to taste. Simmer, partially covered, for a further 30 minutes. Skim if needed. The soup should thicken a bit during this process. 

5. Add a tablespoon of brandy. Taste and add more accordingly. Cook for another minute.

6. Place a few cubes of bread into bowls and ladle the soup on top.

7. Sprinkle on the gruyere, and place under a broiler and brown until you get a golden, crispy layer on top. 

Just writing about this makes me crave it again. Enjoy!