That first bite of nduja - just a small dollop atop a pizza in Calabria - brought me to a level of pork enlightenment that I'd given up on ever experiencing again. Then I hear Boccalone in Oakland is making the stuff themselves - the only US maker of nduja to my understanding, and trust me I've looked. Two days after placing an order the two lovelies shown above came knocking at my door for about $30 shipped, and damn do they stink exactly as I remember. They say smell triggers memory more effectively than any other sense and suddenly I began recalling the overwhelming scent of sweet onion fields, citrus trees, and salty blue sea. If this stuff tastes anything like it smells Boccalone will have accomplished an incredible feat.
Nduja is a product of southern Italy's bounty of chiles and citrus, but it's far more than the sum of it's parts. Imagine a pig slathered in chilies and orange zest fired out of a canon through a fine mesh strainer. That's right, it's spreadable spicy pork.
It's impossible to describe the scent - pure stinky orange spice, musk, adobo, foul porkiness - downright erotic, emotive, and almost wrong. If one note were out of balance it would be a cacophony instead of a symphony. I could smell this stuff all day long, but I'm hungry, so let's put it through the triathlon of bread, pasta, and eggs.
The first I heard of this stuff was from a traveler in our compartment returning home on a night train from Rome. I asked him what food he missed most from home: nduja on bread. His accent was so thick that I couldn't understand what he said until I experienced it myself and the language barrier crumbled.
On Bread - The texture is incredibly smooth - like a sticky tartare - while not as smooth as the oily jarred stuff it's as soft as possible for something stuffed in a casing. Oh wow, it tastes like nduja - porky citrus spice and then a long slow burn. I should have heated it up before spreading on the bread, but still a triumph.
In Pasta - There's no lack of pork richness here, it's damn delicious. The spice level is high (although I cheated by adding some extra chili), the tomatoes are standing strong, but the added citrus is making it a bit too tart. Calabria is famous for earthy-sweet purple onions that seem to grow absolutely everywhere (I found them on road medians) and although they would really bring balance to this dish some carrot's passed through the microplane might do the trick too.
Since a food like this deserves to find it's way into every possible meal time, why not add it to eggs like you might with chorizo?
In Eggs - The richness of the eggs is completely run amok - spicy like a good hot chorizo but the funky rich pork melds with the egg to somehow making the egg taste...eggier...it's almost too much. Nah, it's downright perfect, but it's never taken me so long to finish a plate of eggs.
Boccalone has pulled off the impossible - an authentic nduja from the US of A. My only very minor quibble is that I'd like to see a bit less tang and bit more heat - but otherwise they've struck gold. I pray this stuff gets enough traction to spread it's porcine love into the hearts of other salumerias, but for now I thank the heavens that this goodness is only two short days away anytime my soul calls for it.
dont forget, the citrus was not Calabrian. while its tasty and absolutely works, that was not my memory!!
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