Delicious recipe is tripe
We make Porzia restaurant’s offal, yet popular, dish
Apot of boiling tripe emits a smell like a bag of hockey equipment stored in Satan’s bathroom. The strips in my pot are honeycomb tripe, from the less-appetizingly named reticulum, one of a cow’s four stomach chambers.
It’s the sort of food that seems strange if you don’t grow up eating it. But when I was a kid there was always a jar of Strub’s pickled herring in the fridge, which would probably be gross to a lot of people. I’d snack on it while watching Transformers.
I’ve had good and bad tripe. The first was accidentally ordered in an El Salvadorian restaurant, as pancita soup, which I thought meant pancetta. I remember pinching a square of the strange substance from the bowl, holding it up to the light and remarking that the wavy, honeycomb pattern looked like Aquaman’s underwear. But it was good.
Since then I’ve been served gummy, undercooked tripe that I had to spit out, and tripe that retained too much aroma from the intestine of a cow to be palatable.
The best version I’ve eaten was the trippa alla romana at Porzia restaurant (1314 Queen St. W.): a bowl of spicy tomato sauce popping with soft chunks of braised tripe and sausage, layered with a crunchy breadcrumb topping and a fried egg, yellow yolk running into the red sauce.
When I returned to the restaurant in the summer and the dish was off the menu, chef/owner Basilio Pesce was gracious about giving me the recipe.
Tripe does not give up its love easily. One must work with it at great length before it surrenders flavour and texture.
To start, most butchers don’t carry it these days. But I found it in Chinatown, labelled honeycomb, book or blanket (the street names for the reticulum, omasum and rumen chambers). After cleaning it of excess fat I soak it for 48 hours, with a bit of vinegar, changing the water twice a day.
Then I cook the tripe by simmering for almost five hours, until the collagen melts the rubbery strips as tender as a portabella mushroom.
I skip the step where Pesce makes his own sausages, in favour of some spicy Italians from my butcher.
After sautéing the tripe and sausage with vegetables and chilies, the tomatoes and white wine form a braising liquid and the whole thing stews for another six hours (I put it in the oven at midnight to avoid turning the joint into a daytime furnace).
What comes out in the morning is a saucy dish of astonishing complexity. After adding some chickpeas, I make the topping of pancetta bread crumbs. The cured belly is sautéed in a pan and then buzzed in a blender with bread crumbs, to create a crunchy, porky top layer. For each portion I serve a fried egg on top.
It’s one of those things that, as I taste it, I can’t believe I made it. Yet strangely, I know I’ll have a hard time serving it at the table, if I call it by name (my roommate has no interest in trying tripe, but when I remind her that she tasted the dish at Porzia with me, she says she liked it, not knowing what it was). Many people don’t know how good it can be.
By a strange coincidence, I’ve spent the week being vegan. The absence of animal products in my diet, plus the labour of processing tripe into something delicious, remind me of how lazy I can get in my cooking, resorting to eating a slab of beef when I don’t want to think too much about dinner. Sometimes tackling a drawn-out project is a way to remind yourself to put more love and care into your food.
Trippa alla romana
Tripe with sausage and chick peas
3 Star Tested Makes 4-6 portions 2 lb (900 g) honeycomb tripe 4 tbsp (60 ml) white vinegar 3 bay leaves 2 onions, peeled 1 carrot, peeled 2 ribs of celery 1lb (450 g) sausage (portioned into small random pieces) 1 tbsp (15 ml) olive oil 3 garlic cloves, minced 2 large red bell peppers, cored and finely diced 6 tbsp (90 ml) white wine 3 sprigs thyme 1 tbsp (15 ml) chili flakes 2 cups (500 ml) canned tomatoes, crushed or pureed in a food processor 2 cups (500 ml) water 1 cup (250 ml) cooked chickpeas Salt and pepper to taste 4-6 eggs (one per serving) Pork bread crumbs (see below) Grated Parmigiano Reggiano Clean tripe of any extra fat or sinew. Soak in cold water for 36-48 hours with 1 tbsp of white vinegar. Change water twice a day. In a large stockpot cover tripe with cold water and bring to boil, then reduce to a simmer. Skim any foam that rises to top. Add the bay leaves, plus half of the onion, carrot and celery. Cook for 4-5 hours until tender. Once cooked remove from liquid and allow to cool. Discard liquid and vegetables. Trim tripe to bite size and set aside. Preheat oven to 300F/150C. In a large pan on medium heat, use olive oil to brown sausage, about 9 minutes. Stir occasionally making sure not to break up the sausage too much. Transfer to plate. Finely chop remaining onion, carrot, celery and garlic, add to same pan, adding more oil if needed, and sauté until soft, about 12 minutes. Add red bell peppers, thyme and chili flake and continue to cook for an additional 5 minutes. Deglaze with white wine and reduce until liquid is gone, about 4 minutes. Add tripe, tomatoes and bring to a boil. Transfer to oven-proof dish with water, cover and bake for 6 hours, adding the cooked chick peas for the last 45 minutes. Set aside. Season to taste. For the pork bread crumbs 2 oz pancetta, sliced thin and chopped
Olive oil 3/4 cup (180 ml) bread crumbs In a large pan on medium heat, use a few drops of oil to sauté pancetta. Reduce heat to medium low and cook until crispy, about 8 minutes. Add bread crumbs and stir till golden brown, about another 4 minutes. Cool and blend in food processor. Season to taste. To serve: Place warm tripe stew in bowls. Cover with pork bread crumbs and grated cheese. Top with egg, fried sunny-side up.
Makes 4 to 6 servings. Star-tested by Corey Mintz. If you know a great GTA restaurant recipe tell him and he’ll ask the chef to share it. Email mintz.corey@gmail.com. Corey’s book, How to Host a Dinner Party, is in bookstores.