Ground Pork

OK. The ground meat entry begins in South Berwick, Maine, continues (paradoxically) nearly 100 years ago "down south" and ends in our kickass kitchen.

While in graduate school at UNH (the real UNH - I'm looking at you, University of New Haven) I supplemented my student income of $0 with a job at a local Dover, New Hampshire eating establishment. I became friends with the executive and sous chefs who told me that they would be leaving to open their own place. I was asked to come with them and agreed. They opened Pepperland Cafe in sleepy South Berwick, Maine with a set of simple principles: make everything from scratch, build bridges to local suppliers and farms, recycle as much as possible. My favorite example was that the compost was picked up by the farmer who supplied them with fresh eggs and pork and used to feed the pigs - a quintessential symbiotic relationship. After closing the place down on Friday nights, I'd return a few hours later for an early Saturday morning trip to the Portsmouth, New Hampshire Farmer's Market with Popper and Kevin, the two chef-owners. We'd take a lap around, looking at what was good and bounce ideas around for an entrée if, say, someone had a large quantity of garlic scapes. It was here that I learned that developing a relationship with farmers can go a long way, whether chef or mere culinary amateur. It was here that I learned that an extra $1.50 per pound of tomatoes is so worth it.

Nearly 100 years earlier my great-grandmother purchased a meat grinder from a company called L. F. & C. of New Britain, Connecticut and used it, presumably, for many years while raising my grandmother "down south." Recently passed on to me by my mother, this useful, simple and effective device reminds me that hamburger patties are a convenience and charcuterie was wasn't just the culinary method du jour. I love things with a sense of history, things that have been around longer than I; this fits that description.

When I was doing my opening lap at one of our local farmer's markets I spotted something that reminded me of Pepperland Cafe and ground meat: squash blossoms. They were one of those commodities that, when walking the market with Popper and Kevin would cause Popper to ask the farmer how many they had. Regardless of the answer, Popper would utter his favorite response: "I'll take 'em all." I purchased enough for Erika and I. After, I walked down a few booths and picked up some fresh local pork - I wanted to try to recreate the tempura-fried pork-stuffed squash blossoms that Pepperland would run as a special.

It was successful, though the result mattered less than the process. Buying from the producers feels like you're doing something right. I realize that I won't always have the time to, say, grind meat and that convenience foods are near necessities for some families. But for now, the time I have at my disposal to do things like that is my convenience.