It was raining cats and dogs. The huge, brand new, 1972 Buick Electra smoothly rode the narrow mountain road. At times it felt like the car would be too long for the next sharp turn and its wheels would skid off the wet road. The dark clouds made noon seem like four in the afternoon; the dense foliage added a couple hours to that. It was dark, chilly, and crowded in the car. And noisy. Seven kids and Mom and Dad in a cacophony of laughter, tears, happiness, discomfort, and above all, hunger. Closed lechonera after closed lechonera we passed by. No succulent pigs roasting on spits could be seen, no crunchy pork cracklings could be tasted, and no smoky aromas tantalized our senses.
Puerto Rico is known for its lechoneras, small open restaurants that roast pigs on spits, serve rice and pigeon peas known as gandules, spicy blood sausage, plantain or yucca pasteles, and many other goodies. Most of them are located right along the winding mountain roads that join the southern and the northern parts of the island. Today, stricter food safety codes have taken away a bit of the rustic feel, but lechoneras continue to be, not only a tourist, but a local attraction. When we were kids, there was no highway to get from the south of the Island, where we lived, to the north where we went to visit our grandma. We had to drive for almost two hours on the narrow, dangerous, mountain roads that snaked up, up, up, and then down, down, down. This particular day, the rain would not stop, and the notion of finding an open lechonera was quickly fading away. Finally, when we had just started the descent from the huge mountain that reached into the dark clouds, we found one. Dad drove the huge car as close as he could to the man who was sitting by the huge roasted pig on the spit, barely opened his window and asked for a few pounds of the obvious and some other tasty treats to go with it. Mom leaned over his shoulder and added, "Make sure you throw in some ribs too." Dad solemnly announced that there would be no eating inside the new car. We would wait until we got to grandma's. We all looked at each other ready to either bawl or re-enact "Mutiny on the Bounty." Mom looked back and without saying a word settled down the uprising of the tribe.
That day I got to taste the best roast pork in the world. Mom spent the rest of the trip picking with her fingers pieces of hot, savory, fall-off-the-bone, delicious pork and feeding us like an Imperial Eagle feeding her gawking open mouthed fledglings, being very careful not to dirty the pristine Electra. I could have said, "like a hen feeding her chicks", but for some reason I can't think of Mom as a hen. Yes, definitely an eagle is more in tune. I must have been no more than twelve at the time, but I can still savor the moment. Did I mention that Papa Eagle was also being fed as he expertly drove down the mountain.
And so it comes to be, that today, some forty years later, I will share with you the recipe for the best roast pork in the world. I am not modest when it comes to my roast pork; I know. And when you cook this recipe for your friends and family, I think you shouldn't be either.
First, the cut of meat. Most Puerto Ricans will tell you that it has to be the picnic. And the truth is that for many years that is the cut that I used. That is, until I moved to Miami and fell in love with the Boston butt. So that's your cut of meat, Boston butt, bone in or bone out, it doesn't matter. For best results, a seven to eight pound butt would be perfect.
And now, the wet rub. Take one whole head of peeled garlic and pound it into a paste with a mortar and pestle. No, do not use minced garlic. No, do not use prepared garlic in a jar. If you don't have a mortar and pestle, improvise, or better yet, go buy one; you will use it all the other times that you will cook this pork dish. To the garlic add two tablespoons of dry oregano leaves and one half cup Balsamic vinegar. I know a couple Puerto Ricans just rolled their eyes, but yes, I find that Balsamic gives the roast a nice darker caramelized color and better flavor than the customary apple cider vinegar. You can use fresh oregano if you wish, but it is my experience that using the dry leaves will give you a more consistent flavor. Some fresh oregano can smack you in the face with flavor, while others are so mild you barely notice them.
Rinse and pat dry the butt and place on a roasting pan. Salt and pepper freely, preferably with fresh ground pepper and Kosher salt. Then smother it with the wet rub, making sure most of the garlic stays on the pork and not on the pan. Preheat the oven at 375 degrees Fahrenheit. Place the roasting pan on the rack above the one closest to the bottom. Close and do not open until an hour has gone by. Lower the temperature to 325 and place aluminum foil over the top to prevent it from getting too dark. Roast for three more hours until the meat falls off the bone. You will need some tongs to pull the meat instead of a knife to carve it.
At home, now that we live in Texas, we enjoy our roasted pulled pork with fresh corn tortillas, Oaxaca cheese cream, pico de gallo, and salsa verde. When we lived in Miami, we enjoyed turning our roasted pulled pork into a Cuban sandwich, with buttered grilled rolls, Swiss cheese, pickles, and yellow mustard. I'm sure you will come up with your own ideas on how to eat the best roast pork in the world. Enjoy and brag about it, because it is the best. Buen provecho!
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