Ibérico: a rare treat. Bar 44 Tapas y Copas, Penarth

To the wary and the  unitiated, eating raw pork lies somewhere on the Good Decision spectrum between 'brushing your teeth with pâté' and 'cutting your toenails with a scythe' (which, you'll recall, is the sort of clever idea that makes your foot fall off). For some people though, championing a particular ingredient becomes their passion.  And I like people with genuine passion.

I don't mean the moist-eyed X Factor hopefuls who, with trembling voice, tell of their fierce determination to impress Louis Walsh... or face going back to their job in a fishmonger's/haberdasher's/wherever (as if returning to paid employment was somehow the most dread and dire of fates. "No! NO! Not back to the ear trumpet factory! Have mercy on me, sir, I beg!") It's not that cry-on-cue 'passion' for an overnight success. No. I mean that commitment to an idea, the sort that is infectious and drags others along until all the sacrifice and sheer graft bears fruit and the dream blossoms into reality. I like that fiery enthusiasm for something, a wholehearted devotion to a cause that is unfashionable for some in this detached, seen-it-all, cynical age. I tend to have an inbuilt distrust of people who can't get genuinely excited about a record, a novel, a film. Fire in the heart, the soul, the belly: wherever it resides, it matters.

So when you meet someone with a passion for something you care about, it's inspiring and energising. When the subject of Spanish pork dishes came up in conversation with Bar 44 (Penarth and Cowbridge) after they read about our visit to José in Bermondsey- and in particular my infatuation (if that's not too strong a word- and it isn't) with Pizarro's signature dish of rare Ibérico pork (click here for that one)- it was clear this was a project fuelled by passion. An invitation to go and meet chef Tommy Heaney and co- owner Owen Morgan, and to sample some of their prize dishes using this most illustrious of ingredients, was simply too good to miss. As an aside- quite apart from their established stellar reputation, Bar 44 has been a strong presence in Cardiff's nascent street food scene this summer, their crab and saffron croquetas and visually arresting hamburguesa negra- a black-as-coal squid ink bun, a pale gold burger-emerging from the burnished El Boquerón ('the Anchovy') as recent highlights.

Besides, as my mother used to say to me as an infant, dandling me on her knee: 'Son, if one day you are invited to the Good Food Guide's Readers' Welsh Restaurant of the Year 2015 for a private tasting, drop everything and go. But do try not to be too smug about it.'

Wise woman, my mother.

Now, jamón Ibérico de Bellota is the greatest ham on earth. This you already know: you've slipped those deep pink slices into your mouth and held them on your tongue so that rich, creamy-yellow fat, already starting to liquefy at room temperature, floods your mouth with that incomparable nutty sweetness born of an outdoor life and a diet of acorns. If you haven't, rectify quickly. Jamón serrano itself is no slouch; but the highest-grade Bellota is a masterpiece, something to be savoured as an indulgence of the most satisfying type. The rearing and sale of these black Ibérico pigs is among the most policed, regulated and controlled in Europe, with their own Denomination of Origin, the integrity of the bloodline being jealously guarded and its flesh fetching astronomical prices. 

Other cuts from the same animal are perhaps rather less well known, which is where we come in: not to taste jamón but to sample various ways with Ibérico, and that's why I found myself sitting at the bar with Owen as Chef Tommy Heaney wove some magic with this precious, precious stuff.

First up was a simple carpaccio of this remarkable delicacy (£6.25). Gossamer-thin slices of raw meat, fresh deep-pink Ibérico dressed with a fruity olive oil (Mestral Arbequina- a fittingly luxurious accompaniment) with a squeeze of lemon, a dusting of smoked pimentón. Grated manchego, rings of crispy shallot, a scattering of capers. I'm not usually a fan of this last ingredient, so I was worrying rather as Chef added them. Let that be an object lesson in 'letting people who know what they're doing, get on with it'- these were very mild in flavour and the whole assembly took moments to produce a striking dish of food. The phrase 'melt in the mouth' is patently a hoary old cliché; yet you'll have to excuse me brushing off the cobwebs to use it here. An aged Manzanilla, all zingy fruity freshness, was the suggested accompaniment, and so we were off to a flier.

A remarkable cut from the end of the loin- next to the neck- was next: presa a la plancha. Great produce can sing with the briefest acquaintance with heat and this was served in a similar fashion to the Ibérico fillet I'd been so impressed by in London. Olive oil, flakes of sea salt. A dusting of pimentón. 

That's all. Nothing more required. 

However counterintuitive it may seem to serve pork this rare, the texture and flavour have such remarkable tenderness and such distinctive depth that other considerations become irrelevant. This is a wonderful meat, cooked with a minimum of interference to allow its subtleties to shine through.

Sear the outside, leave the centre a lustrous ruby red. I understand the natural squeamishness that comes from transgressing one of the seemingly immutable laws of meat cookery: serve beef and lamb pink as you like, but with chicken and pork you're on hazardous ground. That's drilled into you from your earliest attempts in the kitchen. The supply chain, of course, has to be impeccable: safeguarding and trust are crucial here, and in the forefront of the restaurant's considerations. Bar 44 import this meat fresh- not frozen- via dedicated specialists to bring this sought-after delicacy to the plancha and plate.

Bar 44 understand that diffidence, that reluctance, too: but they, along with José Pizarro, ask that you try it. Once. Just once. And if you're not an instant convert, I'll be amazed.

(The language of religion is deliberate. In the final episode of his series on Spain, Rick Stein had José Pizarro taking him to the 'Vatican of Ham' in Albuquerque, Extremadura, home to millions of pounds' worth of meat, and tasting it as reverentially as the kneeling devout accept the Eucharist.)

A crisp, dry Amontillado sealed the deal. A wonderful touch, these paired drinks, with sherry being a particular area of expertise for Bar 44: unsurprising, given the man sitting next to me is the sole Official Certified Sherry Educator in Wales. But we weren't confined to this underappreciated wine, because up next was a potent (7.2% ABV) Belgian-style beer- Mezquita, brewed by Alhambra in Granada.

Our third dish was yet more briefly-seared Ibérico fillet (£7.50): that vivid red again so evident, but this time served on a cauliflower purée with a walnut praline. Slices of compressed apple, infused with Manzanilla, all dotted about with an Arbequina oil infused with the flavours of chive, parsley and thyme. This is a sumptuous dish of contrasts, velvet smoothness and crunch and crackle and sharp fruitiness.

Veering away from fillet and the contentious topic of rare pork, Chef Heaney's next dish illustrated the versatility of the beast. Pork cheeks cooked in sweet Pedro Ximénez sherry and raisins, served with a potato purée rich with olive oil, seasoned with a herb oil and finished with kernels of roasted corn for a satisfyingly smoky crunch (around £6).

A more stark contrast to what had gone before is hard to imagine- from the briefest hug from the plancha for the presa, to half a day's slow cooking following overnight marination, no less. A darker, richer flavoured and textured cut this, which yielded to the fork without resistance, the sauce seductive and glossy and begging for some crusty bread. A Tempranillo-Cabernet Sauvignon blend was the wine choice, surprisingly light for such a dense, rich course but excellent accompaniment.

The kitchen at Bar 44 makes extensive use of this porcine prince. When you deal with ingredients of this provenance, you'd be loath to waste anything, I suppose. The tozino (fat) has many uses of its own:  it can be sliced thinly and put on sourdough toast with some sea salt. It can wrap and baste the meatier fishes (monkfish, hake) and melt like butter in the pan as you cook, imparting what Owen called (in a phrase I'd struggle to top)- 'stonking umami goodness'.

They confit potatoes in it or use it to make ridiculously luxurious Spanish chips. It's also great on dishes like scallops; once plated, you blowtorch the rich fat so it melts over the plump, pouting mollusc. I would not be in the least surprised if, sooner rather than later, it becomes the 'must-have' ingredient for seasonal roast potatoes. The idea of that precious fat producing crispy, fluffy roasties with that hint of nuttiness... it can only be a matter of time, can't it?

So- is there anything the Ibérico pig can't do? If you need convincing- here's some science. In fact, Pay attention at the back.

Oleic acid is A Good Thing. A Very Good Thing, apparently. Studies indicate that the fat has a beneficial effect on cholesterol in (human) blood by increasing the amount of good cholesterol while reducing bad cholesterol. The fat of Ibérico Bellota ham (you can see where I'm going with this...) contains very high levels of oleic acid. The total proportion of unsaturated fatty acids in cured Iberico hams that have come from pigs which have consumed a diet of acorns is over 75%, making it one of the most healthy fats. This isn't explained solely by the makeup of the breed of pig itself; their staple diet of acorns and grasses also contributes to produce... well, if not a 'health food', then at least something with hidden powers.

Offcuts ('magro') are ideal for burgers; the ribs are slow-cooked in sherry for a treat. Tommy and Owen were joking (I think...) when they complained that they have yet to devise an Ibérico dessert. 

I arrived at the restaurant already believing pork was the overall King of Meats; it is clear the Ibérico breed deserves the renown and the respect it is afforded by those fortunate enough to cook with it, and deserves serious respect by those lucky enough to eat it. 

So... when was the last time you ate something that genuinely excited you?

I attended Bar 44 at their invitation, and consequently all food and drink was complimentary.



Bar 44 Penarth
14 Windsor Road
Penarth 
CF64 1JH

Tel: 02920 705497
penarth@bar44.co.uk
Open: 11:30-24:00 Fri/Sat
11:30-23:00 Mon/Tues/Weds/Thurs/Sun