Salted

Ever since we had a TV set installed in the kitchen, mealtimes have become as much about the woes of the world as they are about food. “What a dreadful place,” Ma would sigh every time the news showed the seamier side of Metro Manila. I always remind her that the Greater Manila area is home to some 25 million souls (by current estimates), or just about a quarter of the Philippines’ entire population, statistically making it a nest of criminality — a mecca for malefactors, if you will.

The sheer number practically guarantees that the morally disreputable subset should include a number of kababayan, even if by implication only. “Look!” she once cut short her complaint about the grilled pork being too salty. “M (our former congressman) is on the list!” The List, of course, being shorthand for the roster of public figures implicated in whatever scam was currently in the media spotlight. Before, our place was associated chiefly with Panfilo Lacson’s bête noire — the Kuratong Baleleng. I could not decide if this was an improvement.

Anyway, the pork (no pun intended) was indeed salty and all dried out from having been brined too long. Don’t tell my cardiologist, but I’m a big fan of brining. Any meat (or seafood, for that matter) benefits from soaking in a solution of salty water; it’s simply juicier, more flavorful, and less prone to shrinkage. There are differing opinions as to how the technique works, although if you ask me, kitchen life is taxing enough without also having to grasp such principles as diffusion and osmosis. When I brine, I don’t even measure my salt; I grab a fistful, mix it with enough water to cover the meat, taste, and if the solution is just salty enough, add a bit more, plus black peppercorns, crushed garlic, and a dried bay leaf or two. And some sugar if I’m in the mood. The solution is boiled (a step which I often skip) and allowed to cool down to room temperature before using. Works fine every time. Almost, anyway.

But don’t just take my word for it. “For an exact brine,” according to Michael Ruhlman in The Elements of Cooking (2007), “it is easiest to use metric measurements. A good working ratio is 50 grams of salt per liter of water, [which] results in a 5 percent brine.” He also advocates using only kosher or sea salt, although Cook’s Illustrated says iodized works just as well. It’s your call; I’m only the messenger.

By the way, this method is more properly called “wet brining.” Others prefer a dry brine, in which salt (or a mixture of salt, sugar, and spice) is sprinkled directly onto the meat. I will not hazard a guess as to the amount of salt to use in that method because I have not attempted it. The meat is then allowed to rest (in the fridge) for generally the same duration as you would in a wet brine.

If you’re pressed for time, brining obviously isn’t the way to go. But if you have no immediate plans for those pork chops sitting in the freezer (and who can blame you?), by all means thaw ’em out and give ’em the salt treatment. Brining works best on lean cuts of meat, and with pork chops there is no way to go but up (I should take my own advice one of these days).

Just don’t let the meat steep in the brine for longer than it has to. I’ve brined pork (belly) for up to 24 hours, to great results. Any more than that and meat dries out. In the case of seafood, it’s the opposite: the flesh turns to mush (or so it goes). Fish/shrimp should be brined for no more than 30 minutes. Drain, rinse, and pat dry (as with meat). Truth be told, I don’t always bother to rinse; most of the time it matters not. In a case or two — oops, sorry about that, and I make a show of having honestly forgotten.

I’m evil, I know.

Purely to confound expectations, I will give you a recipe that doesn’t involve salt — at least not in a straightforward manner. Out of habit I always season meat before cooking, but here the beef is sliced so thin that it is easy to overdo the salt. Besides, there are already two salt-based condiments in the finishing sauce. Still it takes a lot of restraint to keep my hands off the salt shaker, and to be honest I do not always succeed. The saltiness is duly noted. But then Noli de Castro comes on and I silently thank the miscreants of the world for the distraction.

Trivia

Alat (Tagalog; salty) is Visayan slang for money. Salty is parat in Bisaya.

Beef & Pepper Stir-Fry

I used short ribs because that was the only beef we had in stock. Sirloin or tenderloin works just as well. To tone down spiciness, use less hot sauce.

• 200 grams boneless beef short ribs, sliced into thin strips
• 1 teaspoon ground black pepper
• 1 teaspoon cornstarch
• ½ teaspoon oil


• 1 clove garlic, julienned
• 1 medium red onion, sliced
• 1 medium red bell pepper, julienned
• 1 medium green bell pepper, julienned
• 1 medium yellow bell pepper, julienned
• 2 finger chilies, sliced thinly on the bias
• oil, for frying

For the sauce:
• 1 tablespoon light soy sauce
• 1 tablespoon dark soy sauce
• 1 tablespoon sweet chili sauce
• 1 teaspoon brown sugar
• 1 teaspoon sriracha or any hot sauce
• 1 teaspoon ginger juice
• ¼ teaspoon cornstarch
• ⅔ cup cold vegetable stock

1. Season beef pieces with black pepper, then toss in cornstarch. Add oil to prevent clumping.
2. In a bowl, mix all ingredients for the finishing sauce. Stir well and taste. If mixture is too salty, add water a little at a time until you get desired flavor. If too bland, add a bit of soy sauce.
3. Put a wok over high heat and pour in two tablespoons of cooking oil. When oil smokes, add beef pieces and stir-fry until browned. Remove meat from wok and set aside.
4. Pour a tablespoon of oil into wok over medium heat. Stir in onions and garlic, taking care not to burn the spices. Lastly, add the peppers. Let cook for 2 to 3 minutes or until peppers are half-done.
5. Pour sauce mixture over spices and cook until bubbling. Return beef to wok and stir to coat the meat with sauce. Turn off heat and let sit for a minute before serving.