With dishes like this, every year should be called the year of the pig

Inspired by a traditional Italian dish and a memorable Chicago evening, Milk-braised Pork with Tarragon is complex, delicate and delicious. Recipe below.

The end of the year inevitably gets us thinking about what lies ahead. For that reason, my maternal grandmother always served pork on New Year’s Eve. She said it was because pigs root forward when searching for food, while chickens scratch backward. In the new year, you want to move ahead. Chicago chef Rob Levitt is making a big move ahead, swapping his toque for a butcher’s apron. By the time you read this, his new butcher shop The Butcher & Larder may well be open, selling cut-to-order meats and charcuterie from locally sourced, humanely raised animals. He’ll also offer a limited menu of sandwiches. I’m sure we’ll become regulars there. Marion was inspired to make this dish by a wonderful dinner Rob cooked on his last night at the Bucktown restaurant mado. I’ll let her tell you about it.

I went much of my life without ever even hearing of milk-braised pork. Then on the last night of Rob and Allie Levitt’s tenure at mado, we had the good fortune to attend one of their farm dinners—not exactly a farm dinner in the way Terry’s grandmother would have known it, but more of a full-on Bacchanalian pageant. Among this parade of dramatic, luxurious dishes, served on a platter with a few other flashier meats in an almost off-handed way, was some milk-braised pork.

Well, I had never tasted anything like this.  It was so mild, so suave and light. With such a simple descriptive name, was it an old American Midwest specialty? Was this some traditional German dish?

It turns out that this is a traditional dish, from Bologna. In the original version, it’s utterly straightforward: pork, milk, salt, pepper and time.  After snooping around on line, I decided to add some fresh tarragon and lemon zest, a little bit of miso for some extra umami (in memory of a wonderful pork ramen broth in Los Angeles), and then, at the end, to thicken everything up, a bit of beurre manié.

As you cook this, the milk caramelizes and turns a beautiful amber color.  That is characteristic of this dish. Also characteristic is that cooking milk for this long makes it breaks—the sauce will be very globby. Just go with it—that’s what this recipe does. At the end, reduce the sauce a bit, then whisk it well, then thicken with a bit of beurre manié.

Milk-braised Pork with Tarragon
Serves 4 to 6

1 tablespoon fresh tarragon leaves, stripped from the branches and left whole
Another tablespoon fresh tarragon leaves, chopped coarsely
2 tablespoons olive oil
3-pound shoulder pork roast (see Kitchen Notes)
4 cups whole milk (see Kitchen Notes)
1 teaspoon white miso paste
black pepper

For the beurre manié:
2 teaspoons butter
2 teaspoons flour

In a Dutch oven or pot deep enough to hold the pork when the lid is on, heat 1 tablespoon of the olive oil over medium-high heat and brown the pork on all sides. Brown all of it. Reduce the heat to medium, then add the rest of the olive oil to the pan and scatter the whole tarragon leaves (not the chopped leaves) around the roast and fry until fragrant, about 2 minutes. Pour all the milk around the pork, then add the miso paste and whisk it into the milk. Bring the milk to a boil, then reduce to a simmer, cover it completely and simmer for 30 minutes. After the first half hour, turn the pork. Cook another 30 minutes. Add the chopped tarragon, and turn the meat again. After 30 minutes, turn it once more. Cook another 30 minutes.

When the meat has cooked for two hours, test it to see if it is tender. If not, keep cooking. This will probably take at least 2-1/2 hours to cook.  Each time you check, the milk will be more and more golden.

When the pork is tender and well done, carefully lift it out of the cooking liquid and set onto a platter to rest. Lift it carefully so it doesn’t break up—I used our huge fish lifter and a ladle.

Prepare the beurre manié by mashing together the butter and flour. Drop the beurre manié bit by bit into the simmering sauce, whisking to thicken it.  Don’t make this really thick; a lightly thickened sauce is what you want. The flavor will be mellow and deep and really like nothing else.

When the pork has rested for a few minutes, slice it. Sometimes all it wants to do is shred and defy the goal of attractive slices. In that case, think pulled pork—a fantastic sandwich, or something awesome to put on top of a baked potato.

There are lots of ways to serve this. We had it with mashed potatoes and zucchini coins sautéed with garlic. It would also be wonderful with egg noodles (for the super mellow sauce) and a bright fresh salad.

Kitchen Notes

The cut of meat makes a difference in the slicing outcome, but any cut you use will come out complex and yummy. Rolled, tied pork loin or pork tenderloin are all likely to give you sliceable results. Boston butt, pork chops and pork shoulder cut into 8-ounce chunks… all good.

Regarding the milk, the classic version uses whole milk. But on the Internet I ran into several recipes using 2% milk, and those authors said the results were just as good.