One of the key secrets to being a good weekend guest is bringing your hosts enough alcohol to make you tolerable—and being willing to prepare a meal. It could be as simple as taking your turn at the grill or preparing a main course. I’m posting my recipe for Roast Pork (Pernil).
Now, I know it may seem strange to cook this in the summer given how hot it would make the average apartment. But the situation I present is the perfect way to avoid heat stroke in the kitchen.
I admit my instructions are slightly idiosyncratic, so adjust accordingly to your situation. And the naked children are highly optional.
Ingredients:
- 1 head garlic, cloves peeled
- 3 tablespoons salt
- 1½ tablespoons dried oregano
- Fresh ground pepper
- 2 juice oranges
- 1 case of Coronas
- Limes
- 1 (7 to 7½ lb) bone-in pork shoulder with skin
- 1 or more very ice-cold Bombay Sapphire martinis
Tools:
- Mortar and pestle (preferably one that says “Puerto Rico” on the side)
- Cutting board
- One boning knife (or any sharp knife)
- Roasting tray
- Bowl large enough to fit a wounded pork leg
- Bottle opener
- China tea cup (not the good china)
The Night Before:
Be lucky enough to have a best friend with a home near the beach who invites you and your family for the weekend. Be even luckier if they have a separate house for you to stay in—and a kitchen you can take over.
Find that radio station you always listen to at the beach—somewhere between the all-country-all-the-time station and the Lite FM one they play at the dentist’s office. Mash garlic to a paste with 2 tablespoons of kosher salt using a mortar and pestle (or the side of a large heavy knife). Stir in oregano, a couple squeezes of juice from half an orange, and 1 tablespoon of pepper.
Using a small sharp knife, begin separating the skin from the fat of the roast, starting at the large end (think of any recent horror movie). Cackle maniacally while doing this. Make sure your family stares at you like you’ve lost your mind. Make sure you have a cold Corona in hand. Leave the skin attached at the bottom part of the roast. If it looks like you’ve flayed it—you’ve done it right.
Make 1-inch-deep puncture wounds in the pork under the skin and on all meaty sides. Rub some of the garlic mixture into the slits with your fingers. Really laugh maniacally. Finish your beer. When a family member tells you to shut up, rub the remaining garlic mixture over the roast (but not the skin). Pull the skin back over the wounded roast and rub with the remaining teaspoon of kosher salt. Transfer the pork to a bowl or dish, cover with foil or plastic wrap, and refrigerate for at least 8 hours or overnight. Make sure you’ve left enough room in the fridge for your remaining case of beer.
The Next Day:
Wake up and realize you’re at the beach. Turn on the radio (it stays on all day—it’s my host’s form of a home security system). Convince the kids to help you save a spot on the beach by throwing down a few chairs. Try to enjoy the ocean view while yelling at the kids not to jump in the water in their pajamas. Walk back to the cottage and try to keep the kids from screaming at 9:45 AM.
Grease up the kids with sunscreen and marvel at how difficult it is to squeeze them into their bathing suits. Tell them they can’t go to the beach unless they finish their breakfast and put their “damn bowls in the sink” and, no, “you are not the damn butler.” Have two preteens laugh in your face.
Start the great caravan of stuff that must go to the beach. Realize it’s already 11:00 AM and you still haven’t started the roast. Take the pork out of the fridge, place it skin-side up in a roasting pan, and let it come to room temp—about an hour. Clean out the marinating dish (yes, you’ll have to wash it). Preheat the oven to 350°F with the rack in the middle. Then head down to the beach.
Around 11:45 AM, announce you’re heading back to the house and ask if anyone needs anything. Remind the kids it’s a good time to take a “real potty break” (aka stop recycling fluids in the ocean). After stripping the kids to avoid bathroom accidents, cover the roast tightly with foil and roast for 2½ hours.
Debate whether to put the kids back in wet swimsuits or just pretend you’re in Europe and let them go nude. Remember: the noon rule is in effect. Time for your first Corona of the day (with lime). Make sandwiches, pack a cooler with food, drinks (more Coronas + limes), snacks, and fruit.
Return to the beach. Collapse into a chair under an umbrella. Begin reading the pile of magazines you brought from home.
At about 2:15 PM, make another “I’m heading back” announcement. Speak softly so no one takes you up on the potty offer. Bring garbage and empties with you. Uncover the roast and add the juice of the remaining oranges (or ½ cup of OJ or water if the kids ate the oranges). Return roast to the oven, uncovered.
Restock your Corona and head back to the beach. Check on the roast every 30 minutes, adding water as needed. Enlist other adults to do this during beverage runs.
By 4:30 PM, declare your final trip to the house. Offer to bring chairs, toys, whiny children, or empties. Check the roast—if the skin is crisp and the meat is fork-tender, remove it. Turn off the oven. Transfer roast to a platter, cover loosely with foil, and let it rest.
Meanwhile, degrease the pan juices however you like. Add ¾ cup water and return juices to the roasting pan. Warm in oven (remember it’s still in there).
Strip the kids and let them run under the outdoor shower—unless your best friend’s teenage son is around (no teen boy wants to see naked little kids). At 5:00 PM, reward yourself with a martini served in a china tea cup. Sip and exclaim, “Mmm, that’s good coffee!” like Jackie Gleason.
Final Steps:
Cut the skin off the roast. If it isn’t crisp, roast it in a shallow baking pan at 475°F for about 10 minutes. (Remember to take the pan juices out first!)
Cut the skin into serving pieces. Pull the meat apart with a fork. Serve with the pan juices and crispy pork skin.
The Haus of Dcaligari 