This week, for the first time ever, I bought a block of lard.
It was in the supermarket, stowed amongst the butters – an unbranded white brick in a sea of yellows, silvery blues and cows. I quickly concealed it beneath some pancetta and flat leaf parsley: as words go ‘Lard’, written plainly across the middle, doesn’t have much going for it. Would the shelf stacker think I was a lard ass? Would the security man mark me out as a lardball? Why not just print ‘PIG FAT’ and be done with it?
But I just wanted to see. I have been trying to identify the all-time best method simply for frying an egg. I’ve experimented with lids and steam, with high and low heats, and I’ve worked with butter, oil, bacon fat and combinations of the three. But looking through the older cookbooks – the Mrs Beetons and the Delias – they know nothing of these modern ways. Only lard will do, they insist.
And perhaps, with the recent angst over harmful man-made trans fats, the time for an old school, traditional and more or less natural fat has returned. It is, further research tells me, the secret to an unbelievably flaky pie crust, or a mouth-wateringly tasty piece of fried chicken. Not only that, at around forty percent saturated fat it has twenty percent less than that darling of 21st century cooking, butter, and twice as much in the way of monounsaturated fat – the good stuff. Olive oil is admittedly more virtuous but it is also more expensive, often has a more imposing flavour and aren’t there times when it’s best just to live a little?
This weekend, I reluctantly unwrapped my purchase. A plain white odourless block. I took a butter knife, cut off a small slice and heated it up in a pan. It melted down into a useful grease – my egg slid around as if on ice skates; the ‘over easy’ flip was easier than ever and my egg was a textbook specimen. No evidence whatsoever of its shameful secret.
Perhaps I have arrived late to this particular party. Perhaps you’re reading this, shruggingly, over an insanely delicious lard and butter sandwich. But for me, from now on, my lard block will sit proudly at the very top of my shopping basket, for all to see.
By M. Cosworth