Pancetta, if you didn’t know, is quite simply Italian bacon. Pork belly is cured with garlic, herbs and aromatic spices such as nutmeg, clove and cinnamon, then hung to dry. Often the belly is rolled and tied before drying for an attractive spiral effect when sliced, but not always. Most commercial pancetta you’ll find in the United States comes as thin slices of the rolled variety. My decidedly un-commercial pancetta (pictured above) is not rolled.

Pancetta is excellent as a foundational flavor for sauces, sauteed with vegetables for frittata (such as this one I made a while back), or simply sliced and fried for breakfast or sandwiches.

My most recent batch of country pancetta was finished yesterday. It’s officially gone, but I’ll start another batch in a day or two. If you’re in Portland and you’d like to get hold of some of my pancetta, simply contact me to inquire about becoming a client.

One of the great pleasures of having one’s own meat grinder comes from the luxury of autonomy over the fat content of ground meats. It seems that most store bought ground beef comes with a fat content of no greater than 30%. But we all know that a fattier burger is just where it’s at sometimes.

I came home the other night with a burger craving so unrelenting that I pulled some beef chuck from the fridge, trimmed the fat from the lean, diced it all, then blended to a consistency of about 65% lean, 35% fat. This I put through the medium grind plate of my hand-powered Universal grinder. The result was formed and pan-seared to medium rare.

Of course I didn’t stop there.

I didn’t have any cheese afoot, and so I pulled out a little leftover garlic peppercorn bechamel sauce that I’d whipped up for creamed kale over the weekend. This I warmed atop the burger in the pan. And when you’ve got fresh mushrooms and basil about, it doesn’t make sense not to saute them in the beefy pan juices and thicken yourself up a nice little mushroom sauce. That’s what I did.

The result of all of this went between two wedges of toasted sour black rye, and onto a plate in a photogenic position before being squarely devoured. I give you the Bechamel, Mushroom and Basil Hamburger Sandwich.

I had a half kilo of ground beef that needed dispatching, and so I hove it into my backsack before heading to Pete and Mara’s function last evening. It was a warm, intimate gathering of friends and associates, and the fireplace was lit. I seasoned the beef liberally with sea salt, pepper, chopped garlic and olive oil, wrapped it around a duo of sturdy pine twigs I found in the front yard and propped the assembly up to bear audience to the tranquil dirge of the flames.