Heat-packin’ pork chops
Fatted Calf founder offers up a devilishly spicy marinade
I know I’m close when I smell the wood smoke.
I steer my car into the driveway of the Sonoma home of Taylor Boetticher and his wife, Toponia Miller, owners of Fatted Calf. My arrival is heralded by the clucking of resident guinea hens and chickens and the barking of the couple’s three dogs.
The dogs have been banished to a bedroom because Boetticher is making pork chops al diavolo for me, and the rack of pork, capped by a thick layer of creamy white fat, is proving too great a temptation.
Boetticher and his wife, who met as students at the Culinary Institute of America, moved to California in the late 1990s. Boetticher, who grew up in Dallas, did his externship at Fog City Diner working under Cindy Pawlcyn and then spent nearly five years at Cafe Rouge before venturing out on his own.
He and Miller founded Fatted Calf, their sustainable meat company, in 2003, first selling meat and small-batch charcuterie at farmers’ markets. Five years later, they opened their first brick-and-mortar butcher shop in Napa; a second location, in San Francisco’s Hayes Valley, opened in 2010.
The meat sold at Fatted Calf, sourced primarily from local farms and always from places where the animals are raised responsibly, needs little in the way of adornment. The pork we’re cooking, sourced from Heritage Foods USA, would be great with only salt and pepper. But the al diavolo preparation, an old Roman recipe historically used as a marinade for game birds, is a very fine way to treat a very fine piece of pork.
To make it, Boetticher blooms crushed cloves of garlic in warm olive oil and then adds black pepper, coriander, mustard seeds, oregano and Spanish paprika. The devil in the diavolo comes from a combination of red pepper flakes and cayenne, and julienned lemon zest perfumes the mixture with its citrusy essence.
Boetticher slices four thick chops from the rack and slathers them with marinade. After 30 minutes, they’re imbued with a bit of spice and heat. After three hours, the flavor of marinade becomes more prominent. Leave the chops overnight and the resulting meat has a serious kick.
He grills the meat on his trusty Hasty Bake, a grill from Oklahoma with an adjustable fire box, a birthday gift from Miller. The thick chops can’t be rushed — cooked slowly, the fat renders out, basting the meat, and the cut cooks through without charring, picking up a dose of smoky flavor in the process.
“I like some wiggle room when I grill,” says Boetticher, which the slow-grilling affords. “Actually,” he laughs, “I like wiggle room in every aspect of life.”
He cuts the meat from the bones, then returns the bones to the grill until they’re caramelized, explaining, “Aw, everyone wants a crispy rib.” He’s right, of course: That’s the part I eat first, pulling the spicy meat from the bone with my teeth, then licking my fingers of the salt and spice.
Behind a closed door inside the house, I hear the pups hoping there’s something left for them. Fatted Calf: 320 Fell St. (near Gough Street), San Francisco; (415) 400-5614. Also: 644C First St. (in Oxbow Public Market), Napa; (707) 256-3684. Both open daily. www.fattedcalf.com