What’s YOUR Favorite Culinary Sensation?

What is YOUR favorite “culinary sensation?” Is it the enticing aroma of rich, hot chocolate? How you can practically smell the intensity of the cacao beans that causes you to breathe in more of that steamy, heady scent? Then you take that first little sip. As it crosses your lips to the tip of your tongue you gauge the heat. And then that rich, creamy, molten liquid begins to melt on your tongue, causing the corners of your mouth to involuntarily curl into a barely perceptible smile. The cocoa slips slowly, gently down your throat, and a small groan follows, “Mmmm,” as it makes its way to warm your tummy and soothe your soul. 

Or is it the thunderous crunch of your favorite kettle chips, salty, savory, and satisfying, relieving angst and beckoning another handful?

How about that first bite of a fine cut of meat, seasoned, seared, and slowly roasted to perfection, tender enough to yield to a single fork tine, and immediately dissolve in a lush, buttery finish on your palate. Ahhh…

Yep, I think you get the picture. 

My favorite culinary sensation is what I call “the crunch and melt.” For starters, keep it simple…think about the best grilled cheese sandwich you ever had…you crunch your way into two thick slices of fresh, home-baked goodness, perfectly grilled to a deep golden, crusty finish in just the right amount of butter (slathered all the way to each and every crusty edge), and you begin to feel the savory rush. Then that buttery crunch, barely revealing the bread’s remaining inner softness, instantaneously gives way to a mouthful of warm, velvety-smooth, tangy cheese that can’t help but slow down your process as you linger longer with every cozy, comfy, chewy, blissful bite. Oh. Ohhhh…

 As I’ve been strolling fondly through my culinary memories, several of these experiences came to mind. When I was very young, there was a pizzeria not far from my New Jersey childhood home that served homemade calzones. Going back about 50 years, before we started thinking more wisely and seriously about what we were eating, this establishment deep fried their sizable pockets of freshly made dough so they were a deep golden brown, and so crispy, they had those little fried bubbles all over the outside. I remember waiting with bated breath for my golden treasure to cool just enough so I could wrap my hands around it…fork and knife be damned, I’m goin’ in! 

That first, crunchy bite…my ears deafened from the inside, eyes rolled to the back of my head, past the inevitably burned tongue, to taste the slight tang of the dough, and then a molten lava-like explosion of Italian cheeses. OMG. What a memory imprint. And no, “they don’t make ‘em like they used to.” Dare I say that each one of those infrequent mealtime treats was tantamount to a medical malpractice case in the making. But so worth it.

By comparison, I’ve cataloged similar experiences in my mental archives, the most recent, pork belly. Certainly not something I grew up with or even knew about until I must have been introduced, by happy accident, at some random Asian restaurant somewhere or other, within the past 10 years or so. Smitten and intrigued, it took me several years, several recipes, several methods, several kitchen appliances, several thought processes, and several attempts before I reached a level of pork belly satisfaction in my own kitchen. It was like my personal pursuit of the Holy Grail. And just as elusive. 

As I was recently sharing these thoughts with a friend of Vietnamese descent who understood my struggle, I admitted that I felt that I’d finally achieved my beloved crunch and melt sensation with a simple “low and slow” roasting process, which I can easily produce in my air fryer for these relatively small cuts of meat.

I use a spare amount of seasoning so as not to mask the delicious, soulful, inherent taste of the pork. Smoked sea salt deepens the flavor, brown sugar lends an almost barbequed quality, and just the right amount of cayenne pepper brightens the meat, without causing a spicy sting. Overall, the seasoning’s got to be subtle enough to not overpower, but substantial enough to infuse the meat with flavor as it’s being tenderized by the fat. I also ensure that the top layer, the rind, is well-charred before the meat rests to seal in the juices. 

This finished product is more of an experience than a sensation. The first bite is a savory crunch that is so distinctive, it almost takes me by surprise every time. It’s like a subtle, silent squeal of joy. What immediately follows is the melt of the meat on the tongue in a complex little dance that incorporates the textures of the crunchy outer char, the melty pork fat, the deep, rich flavors of fresh, slowly roasted pork, and the moderate seasonings that tie it all together. Oh. My. Yum. 

I always keep several 3-lb. slabs of belly on hand, and can usually produce a pork belly meal from freezer to table within about two hours. The joke in my house is that the belly oftentimes doesn’t actually make it to the table…my husband and I seem to end up standing at the kitchen island, hovering over the belly, hot out of the air fryer, grudgingly having given just its ten minutes resting time, and devouring it immediately. It’s *that good*. 

When it does make it past the kitchen island hover, I have featured it in my Vietnamese-style rendition of what I call “Faux Phở,” sautéed it into Cantonese-style fried rice, served it atop soy noodles and vegetables tossed with a Thai-inspired peanut chili sauce, tossed it into an Asian-inspired dish using Mai Fun (thin rice noodles), and rolled it into rice paper wraps with fresh, crisp spinach and a light drizzle of char siu (Asian-style barbeque sauce). 

I’m obviously very passionate about pork belly. What’s your favorite culinary sensation?