This Spalla was purchased from The Fatted Calf.
On Saturday we had Pate, on Sunday we had Spalla Ripiene and on Monday morning I had a full tummy at dawn. It was a large, rich weekend and today I need a glass of water and some fruit. I’ll get to that …

I suppose I should have sat down with my laptop during our Sunday meal, this way my meat memory would have been fresh. After a long day at work today, nothing about me is ‘fresh’. Suffice it to say, the Niman Ranch pork shoulder roast stuffed with greens, walnuts & slivered garlic was outflippenstanding to say the least. I was quite surprised how far the flavor of the stuffing permeated the roast. I’m thinking Taylor prepped the roast before hand, maybe not a brine, but there was something subtly different about the roast on the whole. Maybe all that fat is the flavor delivery system, running at full steam. Fed Exed that flavor directly to my head he did.

Here you go, paper open. Dressed to the hilt. Easily this could have gone oven direct. But I could see it needed some love, something ‘searing’.
So, I seared it. I would have rubbed it with olive oil, but as you can see it wasn’t lacking any fat. Right in to a smoking cast iron fry pan it jumped (I dropped it in). Sear sear sear.

Here she is near the end of the lolling about. About halfway through I tossed in some fresh dried rosemary. Man, that smelled even better. Ya know, if for nothing else searing a hunk of meat makes the house smell wonnerful.
When it was done on top of the stove I lifted it up and threw down the cast iron trivet, keeps it from boiling in fat.
Since this roast is quite fatty and filled with rich flavors I decided to knock down the oven heat a bit. Down to a 325 degrees F. When the roast reached an internal temperature of about 120 degrees, maybe just under two hours, I jacked up the heat to about 375 to 400. When its internal temperature got to 150, I pulled it and let it rest. This got me over the 155 hump and probably to around 160. Perfection.

A few thick slices of this with a green salad and you’re set for the evening.
I suppose I’ll hold back on the Fried Chicken contest for a few days. Where’s my bicycle?