Homemade Corned Beef for Charcutepalooza

When I first purchased Michael Rulhman's Charcuterie cookbook a year or so ago, the recipe that most intrigued me was corned beef. Growing up in Montreal, with its vibrant Jewish deli scene, corned beef (always refereed to simply as "smoked meat"), was a staple. You could take the trip downtown to order it at one of the city's renowned deli palaces: preferably Schwartz's, but possibly Dunn's, or the late lamented Ben's.

To tell the truth, though, I most often ate the humbler home alternative: Coorsh brand heat-and-serve smoked meat, which came in a plastic envelope to be dropped into boiling water and cut open when hot. Either way, it was served between two slices of rye bread; the correct presentation involved a hefty mound of meat atop which the bread halves balanced precariously. That is, the meat should not be enclosed by the bread, but, as it were, garnished by it.

It is a Toronto joke that expat Montrealers, of whom I am one, are always whining about their inability to get enough of several beloved items: including real bagels, of course, and what's known here as "Montreal smoked meat". However, I hesitated to try making my own corned beef from Ruhlman and Polcyn's recipe, for two reasons: first, because I was daunted by the challenge of acquiring pink salt. (I have now overcome that obstacle.) The second thing was that I'd heard in discussion with other Toronto food experimenters that the five-day brining period suggested in the book might be too little.

Motivated by the Charcutepalooza March brining challenge, I decided it was time to get going and corn some beef. I consulted with local charcuterie hero Zane Caplansky of Caplansky's Delicatessen (he whom Adam Sachs of the NY Times Style section named "among the farmers, chefs, butchers and restaurateurs credited with turning the city into a carnivore's dining destination"). He says to brine a five-pound brisket for seven days, so that's what I'm going to do.

Here's the beef.

Because I am such a newbie, and as with the bacon, I am otherwise going entirely by the book. It started with the acquisition of a four-pound piece of beef brisket raised by a Mennonite farmer near London, Ontario (which is to say: locally). Rowe Farms being out of brisket, I went instead to another worthy butcher: Meat on the Beach.

I spent a little time figuring out how to refrigerate the meat for the requisite week. For reasons of economy, philosophy and practicality, our household has only a dorm-sized fridge, like they do in Paris. Given that the veggie crisper is still full of jam and pickle jars being used up from all the recipe testing for my canning book, and that I already have three pounds of bacon salted away in there (literally), there's no way a pot of brine will fit too.

I admired some fine $20 glass pans with lids in a kitchen store, but none was big enough. I ended up buying a $2 plastic lidded container from a dollar store (it's actually labelled as BPA-free, to my surprise!), which just fits in the top of the fridge along with the bacon and enough space left over for a bit of broccoli and one condiment jar. If I enjoy this experiment and make more, I may well invest in a couple of the glass containers, though. Who knows what besides BPA will be leaching into the meat along with the salt?

Here's my pickling spice, ready to go.

I assembled my own pickling spice according to the proportions given in Charcuterie (one of the nice things about being a middle-aged householder is tending to have all those spices on hand, and fairly fresh). The top photo shows them after toasting in one of my favourite cast-iron frying pans. They smelled great.

And when I poured the salt, sugar, garlic and spices into the pot, the steam that wafted up took me straight back to my Montreal childhood: it was exactly the right bouquet, so redolent of those hot, squishy packets of fatty meaty goodness that we used to slice open for our weekend lunches. I await the final result with excitement.

Meanwhile, I also took up the challenge to brine something besides flesh this month, so I have a glass jar full of salted lemons maturing on the kitchen counter. They've been marinating for several weeks now, and may be ready, but I suppose I'll have to make some Moroccan food to test them out. I've been eyeing the Chicken Tagine recipe from David Lebovitz's new Sweet Life in Paris book, a companion to his wonderful blog, where he offers a similar recipe with lamb.

But first I think I'll have to cook up some bacon and eggs. And some corned beef hash. And maybe some corned beef and cabbages. And of course, a good old-fashioned smoked meat sandwich on rye. With yellow mustard. And a kosher dill.

(And here's the sandwich!)