I hate to admit it, but I used to think that YouTube didn’t have a future. This was back when I could not get picture files to load on a crappy dial-up connection. Moving pictures? Forget it (and I’m not talking animated GIFs). Besides, who needed streaming video when there’s always Pirate Bay (not so, as it turned out) and cable?
How wonderfully wrong I was. What finally made me eat my words were the cooking channels, where professionals and celebrities wait alongside amateurs to show you how to whip up virtually anything in the kitchen (or wherever food is made). The fun, however, is in the controlled randomness of the side links. You never know where you’ll end up. I arrive to learn how to fillet fish and leave with a recipe for pickled radish. While I love reading recipes (and the stories that usually come with them), there is nothing like seeing a dish come to life in front of your very eyes. Video gives credibility. Sometimes I read a recipe and think the author is just winging it, as in one which called for a staggering ¾ cup of butter — for a stir-fry! Then I found out it was by Yotam Ottolenghi. Maybe it was a typo (the amount, not the author), but what do I know? There's a reason he’s famous and I’m not.
Seeing is indeed believing, so when I came across this video showing pork belly oven-roasted to a fine, sizzling crackle, I knew I had to make it. With great speed and urgency I headed for my suki butcher’s to place my order: three kilos of whole belly, ribs removed, and please remember to lop off the nipples (I don’t mind them, really, but my father does). Then I realized I was out of five-spice powder, but never mind. If all you have are garlic and black pepper, you’ve got a world of flavor at your fingertips.
And salt, of course. The recipe called for quite a lot of coarse salt to cover the skin (aluminum foil covered the bottom and sides). Now I must say this technique with the salt had always given me pause. Aside from the obvious concern of ending up with overly salty liempo, it begged the more practical question: What is it supposed to accomplish? Some claim the salt insulates the meat, ensuring gentle and even cooking. Others maintain that it draws out moisture and gets the meat to brown properly. All I can say is that my roasted liempo turned out great (and not salty at all) and I’m not taking the chance skipping the salt crust next time I make it (I did not bother with the vinegar). Why change what obviously works?
The Internet is not real life. That’s how come it offers the best and worst of people. Many video recipes don’t even have faces in them, so obviously the people behind those are not in it for money or fame (or at least the facial recall aspect of it). Whatever their reasons for putting up their videos, you have to at least concede that being helpful is one of them. YouTube was certainly more helpful than my friends when it came to making sticky rice, which had turned out to be a breeze, just like said friends told me, though they couldn’t be pressed for the more practical aspects of the process (like how to cook how much and for how long).
Well, the liempo was even easier. It took roughly as long to cook as sticky rice; I just had to marinate the meat overnight. Then it was time to prick the skin all over like they do with the lechon (roasted pig) at Zubuchon. I thought I was smart bunching together a dozen lobster/crab tines (secured tightly by rubber bands), but my makeshift implement simply bounced off the raw pork skin (damn thing’s tough). I had Pahay, our trusty all-around guy, fashion me something out of a piece of wood and a dozen nails. That fared better, if not by any appreciable margin. “Here,” I finally said, giving Pahay the pricker. “You made it, you wield it.”
Okay, so it wasn’t exactly a breeze. I’m sure you’ll think of something — or someone — to handle that part. Anyway, it was at this point that Ma came into the kitchen on her way to the garden. “And what silliness are you up to again?”
“Nothing,” I said. “Just something I saw on YouTube.”
“YouTube?” She had to think about that for a moment. “Dancing babies? Talking dogs?”
“And now, tortured pachyderm.”
“Silly.”
No — silly-sounding. The pricking and salt-encrusting indeed smacked of stunt. We often overlook the fact that cooking is basically chemistry, and that the more we understand why and how an ingredient reacts to another ingredient, or to energy, pressure, or its environment, the more we may be able to parlay those reactions to our culinary advantage. I’ll be damned if I can explain to you the science behind the prIcks and the salt crust, but the resulting liempo was crispy, crunchy, juicy, and flavorful. Ask my mother. She couldn’t have enough of it.
Sometimes I wish I had a knack for the video thing. It would have been nice to have you see the pork belly sizzle, super-heated oil seeping out of what on a human would be a most vulgar case of acne. It’s one of the most awe-inducing sights in an oven (a properly risen soufflé being the other). Then I catch myself. I recall what it was like during video production class back in university. Manny Reyes was a holy terror, although he was justified biting more than a few heads off — mine included — for the dreck that we turned in. I can only imagine the choice adjectives he would’ve had for the liempo video (if you haven’t checked it out, it’s really rudimentary). That’s ignoring the joy and wonder it brought me and my family of pork lovers. Although I have never seen the point of hashtags, here I make an exception.
#HolyFuckItActuallyWorks, #MustTry, #RememberTheLipitor
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