Part two of two.

The critical first step to a quality braise is a deep browning of the meat. This might seem a strange starting point considering the slow, long cooking time ahead, but braising properly depends as much upon the first few minutes as it does on the passive stretches to come. And to that end, I must first broach a prickly subject: the much loved, but irreconcilably unnecessary electric slow cooker. These devices have gained popularity as the ultimate expediency—a sort of force-multiplier for the harried professional. Whether enthusiastic but talentless or just the latter, anyone can plug one in, plonk in a hunk of tough meat, a few other questionable ingredients, and disappear for a day. Upon returning, the slow cooker will have filled the home with homey aromas, a quart or two of mediocre stew and the false impression that cooking has taken place. That the result is better than takeout is its validation for consuming three square feet of storage space.

A meal cooked in a slow cooker is no more a proper braise than a cheap Caravaggio print is a masterpiece. True—a braise requires low heat and time, both of which the slow cooker can muster, but the delivery is without the complexity and nuance of a proper foundation. To build that foundation, what’s needed is an enameled cast iron dutch oven, the heavier, the better. I have a twelve-quart oval beast, blue on the outside, black as coal within. It performs consistently a dozen times each month. It will outlive me. Find me an electrical appliance that can boast the same.

Browning the meat for a braise requires more time than one might think. I allow at least fifteen minutes. Begin by heating the dutch oven on medium high until a drop of neutral oil gently smokes (if it furiously smokes and runs, allow the pot to cool for a minute). I find it’s best to brown the fattiest side first; not only is this the likely presentation side, but much of the fat will render, aiding the browning of the other surfaces of the joint. Brown until uniformly and deeply brown—more mahogany than oak in color. Repeat for each side, until all surfaces, including the narrow ends—which will require active holding with tongs—have achieved the same rich hue. Remove to a platter and prepare for the fast-paced critical building of the braise.

In the dutch oven is now the beginning of the braise’s foundation—what the French fondly refer to as fond. These browned bits of meat—some stuck to the bottom, others suspended in fat—will contribute concentrated flavor once they have dissolved into the cooking liquid. But before liquid, crucially, comes aromatics and thickeners. Begin with the former—several cups of medium sized mirepoix, a few sprigs of thyme and salt and pepper. Add it all directly to the fond, scraping and and loosening any stuck pieces. As the mirepoix cooks, it will begin releasing moisture, which, in turn, will aid in dissolving the fond. Next up is a thickener in the form of concentrated tomato paste; add three or four tablespoons directly to the mirepoix, stirring until evenly distributed. Tomato paste is high in sugar, and a minute or so after being added those sugars will begin to caramelize. This is ideal; the paste will go from red to rusty orange, then brown, and eventually deep mahogany. Do be careful not to burn it though. Finally, liquid. Red wine is all but mandatory—a bottle of Beaujolais is ideal. Stir for a minute or so until all the tomato paste and fond has dissolved in the wine. Stock isn’t mandatory, but welcome. Either way, one or two additional cups of liquid might be necessary, and stock, more wine or water will do. The final step is to return the pork shoulder and the collected juices that have leached from the joint while it rested. If the braising liquid in the dutch oven comes about halfway up the side of the shoulder, bravo. Cover and put in an oven not hotter than two hundred and fifty degrees.

There is an arc to braising that begins with a docile slab of pork on the counter and ends with a quietly aromatic pot in the oven. The half hour in-between can be frenetic—something best countered by being organized. I line all the ingredients up in order of use: pork, mirepoix (and other seasonings), tomato paste, wine. Concentrate on each step, and the pot will be in the oven making the neighbors jealous in no time at all. Three hours later, and a pork shoulder has been braised.

Once braised, there is one last decision to be made, however. French or Italian? Most likely, the French would carefully remove the braised shoulder to a sheet pan or oven-safe platter to be roasted at a higher heat. In the interim, the sauce would be degreased, reduced further, strained and possibly butter-enriched. Once crisp, the braised shoulder would be sliced and served anointed with the sauce alongside some perfectly boiled potatoes. The Italians, who I find more sensible in these matters, would remove the shoulder to a platter, and add a kilo of freshly boiled pasta to the braising liquid, instantly creating two courses: primi (the pasta) and secondi (the pork). There are no wrong decisions though; done properly, a pork shoulder is failsafe. Just no appliances, please.