The Unexpected Delights of Homemade Lard: A Culinary Adventure and Friendship on the Mountain

Our recent weekend escapade was a delightful blend of snowy mountain peaks, exhilarating first-time ski attempts, and an unexpected deep dive into the fascinating world of homemade lard. While my partner and I navigated the gentle slopes, coaxing our little one, W, into his first skiing experience, the evenings were filled with Olympic-watching, generous pours of wine, and, most surprisingly, passionate discussions about pig fat. You can imagine the relentless teasing from the menfolk: “It’s Saturday night – what are you doing? We’re rendering pig fat!” Yet, despite their initial skepticism, they were the first to savor the delicious fruits of our labor, and readily admitted their enjoyment. This culinary journey, far from a frivolous endeavor, turned into a captivating exploration of traditional methods and the surprising benefits of a often-misunderstood ingredient.

The Unbreakable Bond of Friendship and Food

Before delving deeper into our lard-making adventure, I must first introduce the remarkable friend who inspired this culinary quest. No need for mystery; you might have caught glimpses of her in the comments section here and there. Sue is, simply put, an extraordinary individual. Our friendship blossomed in junior high, a time when we were perhaps the shyest two in our small school, thoughtfully (or perhaps mischievously) paired together by teachers playing social matchmakers. It was a stroke of genius. Our formative years were soundtracked by U2 and The Clash, dressed in tights and slingbacks, spent dating British boys, and discreetly adding nips of rye to our Super Big Gulps. And speaking of boys, it was at her older sister’s apartment that we first met Mike. For that entire first year, it was a playful debate about which of us would end up with him – I, of course, generously told her she could have him.

Sue, always a dreamer, once harbored aspirations of being a barnstormer. True to her spirit, she eventually earned her pilot’s license, and in a fitting twist of fate, married a pilot herself. About a decade ago, they welcomed a beautiful baby girl into the world (who, as a newborn, strikingly resembled a Maurice Sendak drawing, in the most adorable way possible!). Soon after, they traded city life for the tranquil beauty of a mountain top in British Columbia, perfectly situated near exceptional skiing. This was, naturally, ideal for her husband, an ex-speed skier from New Zealand, who remains thoroughly devoted to the sport.

Long-Distance Friendship: A Culinary Connection

All of this is to say, I deeply, profoundly wish she lived closer! (No pressure if you’re reading this, Sue.) Yet, as is often the case with cherished friendships, I probably see her as frequently as I do my Calgary friends. Thanks to her excellent West Jet pilot husband, she enjoys access to affordable flights and conveniently resides halfway between Calgary and Tofino. And when we do manage to connect, it’s always time of the highest quality, filled with shared laughter and meaningful conversation.

But who am I kidding? I still wish she lived closer. I’ve come to believe the old adage, “absence makes the heart grow fonder,” truly applies only to romantic relationships, where distance conveniently keeps the less glamorous realities of domestic life – like socks on the floor or annoying bathroom habits – out of sight, ensuring the, ahem, benefits never lose their luster. With true friends, you crave their presence, not just their occasional visits.

Sue’s Talents: The Inspiration Behind the Lard Project

There are two essential things you should know about Sue: Firstly, she is an utterly unbelievable cook. Her appreciation for food, from sourcing to preparation, mirrors my own entirely. When we’re together, we invariably embark on a joint cooking project – be it fruitcakes, homemade jam, or some other delicious endeavor. Even if we’re not actively cooking, our conversations are deeply food-centric, which works out perfectly since the boys are typically engrossed in discussions about planes. Secondly, she is a brilliant writer. She devours books with the same voracity I always aspire to. Even her emails are a captivating read. She’s also incredibly intelligent; she was the one acing physics and math with scores in the high 90s, while math was the bane of my teenage existence, and I famously “Forest Gumped” my way through English, managing an 83% without actually reading Hamlet! I constantly urge her to somehow combine her talents – perhaps start a blog – but she hasn’t yet, so I decided to boldly step in and recruit her for an occasional guest post here, just to get her feet wet. (Perhaps “get her toes wet” isn’t the most food-blog-appropriate analogy, but you understand the sentiment.)

Our shared enthusiasm for food and its preparation means there’s almost always an exciting cooking project on the horizon when we meet. It’s often something neither of us would bother with alone, but together, with a shared hand and revelry, it becomes a joyous pursuit. A couple of weeks before my visit, when our plans were confirmed, she sent an excited email: “Oh goody! And let’s make these Ensaimadas! Using lard we make from scratch!” I must admit, making homemade lard was an idea I had briefly entertained in the past, but the prevailing stigma surrounding pure white pig fat always acted as an effective deterrent.

Rediscovering Lard: Dispelling Myths and Embracing Whole Foods

But here’s a crucial piece of information I hadn’t known: pure rendered pig fat, or lard, is surprisingly lower in saturated fat than butter. For real! While the initial thought might be a little gag-inducing for some, this fact became a major selling point for us to go ahead and make our own. Furthermore, homemade lard aligns perfectly with the “whole food” philosophy – it’s unprocessed, contains no additives, and I know precisely what goes into it. I would much rather consume pork fat sourced from a farm in British Columbia than most of the highly processed, butter-like spreads found in tubs at the supermarket.

Crafting Homemade Lard: A Step-by-Step Experience

So, as soon as I walked through the door on Saturday afternoon and dropped my suitcase, Sue presented our raw material: a magnificent, giant slab of pork fat and skin. We promptly set about the arduous task of chopping – or rather, sawing – it into smaller pieces, preparing it for a cast-iron pot and a slow melt in the oven. Our blades, contrary to expectation, did not glide through it like butter. It was more akin to laboriously chewing through tough leather. We took turns, and even enlisted Mike’s help, to break it down into manageable chunks for the pot. (Note to self for next time: ask the butcher to grind it, or consider scoring the fat and leaving the skin intact to render off gradually. Also, exploring the slow cooker method could simplify the process immensely.)

The pot simmered on the stove for a while, slowly coaxing out the precious fat, before we transferred it to the oven at its lowest temperature for an overnight melt as we retired for the evening. The goal here is to render the fat gently, without browning it – adding a small amount of water helps prevent scorching and evaporates as the fat renders. Our loyal canine companion, Lola, sat patiently in hopeful anticipation, her eyes fixed on the pot, no doubt wishing for some errant pork bits to spontaneously leap her way. Alas, her hopes were not realized.

By morning, the transformation was complete. We carefully poured the pristine liquid fat away from the clumpy, sticky bits of residual skin (which, disappointingly, never quite achieved crackling status) and allowed it to chill. The resulting lard solidified into a pure white, solid yet spreadable consistency, with a remarkably benign, almost neutral flavor. Its texture was appealingly creamy and soft, reminiscent of whipped Vaseline, and notably softer than butter – a testament, we theorized, to its lower saturated fat content. This self-rendered lard was a triumph, ready to elevate our baking to new heights.

There was much joyous hoopla and excited speculation between Sue and me over the potential pastries and biscuits this glorious homemade lard might produce. Everyone else in the house, however, simply looked up from their Olympic coverage – speed skating and moguls (go Bilodeau!) – and rolled their eyes with feigned disinterest. But I have no doubt that if we had actually made a batch of flaky biscuits or a delectable pie, they would have devoured them without hesitation. It’s probably a good thing we had to leave early enough this morning, preventing us from embarking on further lard-infused baking projects. And just imagine the roasted potatoes, crispy and golden, cooked in this magnificent fat!

Baking Ensaimadas: A Sweet Revelation

While the act of rendering lard was an experience in itself, our primary motivation was to create the Ensaimadas that Sue had discovered on the wonderful Delicious Days blog. These Mallorcan spiral pastries, traditionally made with lard, were the perfect vehicle for our freshly rendered product.

We embarked on making the dough using fresh yeast – a half-pound block costing just over a dollar, and it performed swimmingly! This particular dough is a truly lovely, soft concoction made with eggs and olive oil. Once prepared, we rolled it out thinly, brushed it generously with our homemade lard, then meticulously rolled and coiled each piece into its distinctive spiral shape. These beautiful spirals were then set aside to rise, giving us just enough time to collect the kids from craft night in the village.

We made the “mistake,” if you can call it that, of baking them before dinner. As they emerged from the oven, golden and fragrant, we dusted them generously with icing sugar. The result was simply divine: light, soft, and utterly ethereal. But oh, the possibilities that instantly sprang to mind! This wonderful dough, with its delightful lightness and subtle sweetness (and no butter!), combined with its unique coiled shape, opened up a world of culinary fantasies. I’m now absolutely dying to make a cinnamon bun in this Ensaimada form; imagine the sugar, cinnamon, and nuts enclosed within its elegant spiral, then coiled like a snail shell. In fact, the next time I prepare a roll of cinnamon buns, instead of slicing them into traditional rounds, I’m determined to try coiling the entire lot, baking it as one magnificent pastry, and then slicing it into wedges. They were just so exquisitely pretty – and I imagine this method might even prevent overly sticky fingers, though I’m certainly not complaining about sticky fingers, especially if napkins are plentiful!

Beyond Ensaimadas: Endless Culinary Possibilities

Beyond the sweet allure of cinnamon, our imaginations ran wild with other potential fillings: various savory cheese blends with garlic, fragrant pesto and prosciutto, or even traditional mincemeat for a festive twist. The true mark of an exceptional recipe, we concluded, is its ability to inspire even more culinary creations. This weekend’s project, sparked by friendship and a shared love for honest, traditional ingredients, truly delivered on that promise.