Braised Ham Hock Recipe

March 28, 2024 • 0 comments

This is a recipe I adapted from this guy called the Farmstead Meatsmith who is a kind of eccentric butcher and slaughterman who also understands that these roles are meaningless without a cook in the farmhouse kitchen. Check out this clip for the inspiration. All of the animal products that we produce are done so with the end user in mind - the dedicated home cook. No cut embodies this better than the humble ham hock. It’s one of my favorite cuts to cook, but it requires a little bit of patience (though very little actual work). It’s also a great example of the kind of nose to tail economy of which I am a huge proponent and that we strive for in our husbandry and production practices here at Hidden Villa. It’s a tough cut that requires a long slow cook with liquid, either water based or lipid based. You often won’t find these in the grocery store, so I think it’s really special that we offer them, as they’re kind of a butcher’s and a farmers special secret cut. They’re full of gelatin that creates a really unctuous and savory stock that really sticks in your craw and is hugely satisfying to the appetite. I really hope you’ll venture with me to cook this underappreciated cut because the reward is nothing short of the finest, and most nutritious peasant dish one can cook up, and once you know the basic technique it’s really dead simple to cook one up any time you’re in the mood. They also work great in a slow cooker.

Ingredients

(1-2 whole hocks) Fresh Pork Hock
(1 large nob) butter
(2 large) shallots
(3 medium) carrots
(2 ribs) celery
(+/- 1 pint) broth
(1-2 pints) milk
(a few dashes) white pepper
(a generous amount) salt
(2 sprigs each) bouquet garni of thyme, rosemary, and parsley
(half cup or more) cream
(to taste) (optional) madeira, dijon, marmalade - for seasoning the sauce

Directions

Place a large nob of butter in a 4 or 6 quart dutch oven, a stock pot, or a slow cooker

If you want the veggies to really melt into the sauce you can brunois them really fine, but I like to keep it rustic and just chop them into big pieces that I'll strain out later.

Chuck all the veggies in the pot with the butter and cook over medium high until they're a bit softened but not browning.

Meanwhile, rub the hock all over with salt and white pepper

When the veggies are slightly softened, add the hock, along with the broth and milk, and enough water to cover the meat most of the way (it needn't be totally submerged).

Add the bouquet garni and bring it all to a simmer over highish heat, (or just leave it on low if you're using a slow cooker).

I like to cook mine in a low oven, around 200 F, but if you have a good stove that can hold a really bare simmer then by all means use that, but make sure you don't have more than the occasional bubble. Really low and slow is the strategy here.

Let it go for several hours - this will vary based on the size of your hock and the exact cooking temp, but I let my rather large hock go for about 5 hours, or until it's properly falling off the bone.

When you're satisfied, remove the meat to a separate dish where you can chop and shred it.

Then, strain the stock through a fine mesh strainer, or even through a muslin cloth if you're feeling refined.

Now it's your time to really flow - start by tasting the sauce, then add some flavors if you like (but don't add any more salt until it's fully reduced). You'll definitely want to add some cream to bring the texture of the sauce together. I like to add madeira, dijon mustard, and marmalade, to taste.

I also like to take a half cup of the sauce and mix in 2-3 tablespoons of flour, then return to the pan. This will help it thicken if you have a lot of liquid you're trying to reduce, but isn't perfectly necessary.

Reduce the sauce by at least half, until it's nice and creamy and coats the back of a wooden spoon.

Serve with boiled or mashed potatoes or other root veggie puree and a steamed or blanched green vegetable (I find the sauce especially good with asparagus or kale). Pour the sauce over everything.

by Virginia Clay