Jerky's appeal reaches across age, gender lines

Chew on this: artisan jerky. If you're not choking, we probably buy our snacks at the same local jerky shacks.

If you're still choking, your last bag of dried meat might have come from a convenience store. Not that there's anything wrong with commercial snack stuffs. Oh, boy, are there some good major brands of beef jerky at 7-Eleven.

But comparing commercial jerky to artisan jerky is like comparing Budweiser to a local microbrew. Both are beer, but comparisons end there.

It's not just about chemical additives or whether the meat is from choice cuts of local cows or from industrial cuts of Australian or Brazilian cattle. It's about crafting.

"My jerky is handmade in small batches," said Ron Ware Jr. of Green Valley Meats in Auburn, Wash. "I would be the artist because every batch of jerky passes through my hands."

TLC and time

If you're accustomed to jerky sold in zippered bags, get ready to have shoe-leather preconceptions jerked out from underneath you. Depending on the thickness of the meat (most artisan jerky makers prefer lean top round or pectoral cuts), jerky can be as chewy as well-done barbecue or as tender as chicken-fried steak.

At Green Valley meats, apple jerky infused with fruit compote had the bright flavor of green apples and the clean intensity of fresh beef; elk, veal and buffalo, though farm-raised, were wildly gamy; and "pioneer" jerky, run through the tenderizing machine that makes cube steak, was a denture-wearer's dream.

"Most people like a moist, flavorful piece of meat," said Butch Carlson of Stewart's Meats in Yelm, Wash. "Some of the jerkies are real dry, almost like cardboard, where you have to suck on them and get them full of saliva just to make them edible."

At Stewart's, tenderness and edibility are not problems: Lamb jerky was musky-sweet and intensely chewable; maple jerky was at once beefy, sweet and slightly crusty; and alder jerky looked like lacquered bark and tasted like a cross between a steer and a tree; veal was as tender as its name implies.

Or behold the one simple jerky at The Meat Shop of Tacoma, Wash. - dark, almost black, strips of thin beef that peel apart tenderly and taste like what they are: organic beef and spices.

Or the Hawaiian-style pork jerkies at Johnson's Smokehouse in Olympia, Wash., and AA Meats in Lakewood, Wash.: more tender than pork chops.

All are made the artisan way: hand-cut meat, slowly dehydrated with the help of wood smoke and time (up to 12 hours in the smokehouse). Hand labor - and that jerky makers lose half to two-thirds of their beef to dehydration - makes jerky expensive: about $20 per pound for beef and more than $30 per pound for elk.

Art of artisan

"There is an art to it," said Robert Gallardo of Parkland Quality Meats. "It's like baking a cake."

Gallardo learned to make jerky four years ago, after switching careers.

"When I first started, I really screwed it up," said Gallardo, who lists bodyguard and grocery store loss-prevention specialist on his resume. "I didn't have the temperature right. I'd overcook it. Or I'd undercook it. It takes time and knowledge."

Lee Markholt of The Meat Shop of Tacoma demurred when I call him the A-word.

"I don't know about artisan," Markholt said.

But what other word is there for his jerky?

Markholt's beef is certified organic, from steers he raises on his farms. His recipe includes "nice, clear meat off the round," spices and wheat-free tamari, a dark, mellow-flavored soybean sauce.

"I've been making jerky more than 30 years this way," he said. "We pioneered this deal with no chemicals. All the experts told us early on, 'You gotta use the chemicals or you'll kill everybody.' "

The chemicals Markholt referred to are sodium nitrite and sodium nitrate. They help preserve meat. They also give some dried meats their commercially attractive rosy blush.

"Chemicals don't make it last forever," Markholt said. "Salt is the curing agent. Before sodium nitrite was ever around, they just salted it - and that was before they had refrigeration, for crying out loud. They weren't dying of ptomaine."

Other jerky makers cop to using chemicals.

"I do," Ware said. "I have made cure-free jerky. But the shelf life is very minimal, and it'll mold easily."

To prolong the shelf life of his jerky, Markholt stores his jerky in the freezer, which most jerky makers recommend.

Good for you

For home jerky makers, Ware said, "Your best bet is to use the cure. It's got a bad rep, but if you actually know how it works, by the time you marinate your jerky, and by the time you cook it and by the time all the moisture cooks out, there's so little residual cure left in the product. I suppose if you ate 1,500 pounds of jerky for 30 years you might have some health issues."

As for another health concern: Jerky is a low-fat product. Look at a bag of Oberto, the jerky made in Seattle and sold across the country: 97 percent fat-free.

"You can eat jerky all day long without getting fat," said Gallardo, who uses pectoral meat - think ultra-lean brisket - to make his jerky. "There's literally no fat. It all melts away in the cooking."

Lean is not just a health issue - it's a quality issue.

"Really, the key to making jerky is that you want as little fat as possible," said Ware, who has been making jerky for 30 years, "because fat, when you jerk it, doesn't taste good. It's not like with a steak where you've got that crispy fat on the outside and it tastes pretty good. Any fat on jerky gets a rancid, bitter taste."

How to eat jerky?

Insert in mouth. Chew. Repeat. Right? That's one way, but it's not the only way to enjoy jerky.

Ron Ware Jr., of Green Valley Meats in Auburn, Wash., says many customers buy jerky and send it to relatives in Asia, where reconstituted jerky is eaten mixed with rice.

"We tried to bring 2 pounds of moo tod home from Thailand but fell afoul of the 'no meat products' rule in customs," said Ted Kenney, owner of Galanga Thai restaurant in Tacoma, referring to the Thai version of pork jerky.

"The meat is sliced thin, air-dried, then deep-fried and seasoned with ground coriander seeds and other spices. It's slightly sweet and oily, and it's the best, especially eaten with steamed sticky rice. I bet the customs agent who took it had a great dinner."

Mexicans enjoy carne seca (literally, dried meat). It's great eaten out of hand, but it's fantastic shredded and cooked with scrambled eggs, or as taco meat. And ask any South African about biltong, a jerky made with beef or ostrich.

Here are some other ways I enjoyed jerky:

• Shredded and tossed in green salad. Bye-bye, Bac-Os.

• Diced fine and incorporated into pancakes. (OK, so this worked only with maple jerky from Stewart's, and it worked only with the tenderest pieces.)

• With wine. I tell you, spicy Zinfandels and Syrahs paired beautifully with buffalo jerky. So did delicate rosé.

• With coffee: Try dunking jerky into your coffee the next time you're camping and can't find a Krispy Kreme.

- Ed Murietta

How to do it yourself

Making jerky at home is pretty easy. It can be done in a Little Chief smoker, a Ron-Co dehydrator or your oven (convection ovens are recommended, as "cooking" jerky relies on air circulation). Why, you can even do it like Food Network do-it-yourselfer Alton Brown: put fresh meat between a couple of heater filters and attach them to a box fan with bungee cords.

Professional jerky makers recommend lean cuts of beef such as top round, bottom round or sirloin.

Fat ruins the flavor (and shelf life) of jerky.

To get thin slices, start with slightly frozen meat, which is easier to cut. If you don't have a slicer for those 4-millimeter cuts, ask your butcher. Shoot for ¼-inch thick.

While commercial jerky spice and curing mixes are available (look for them at butcher shops listed on this page), home jerkymakers prefer to make their own mixes, giving them control over amounts of sugar, salt and chemicals such as sodium nitrite.

Here's a homemade jerky recipe submitted from a reader at Ed's Diner, my blog, where a reader's question turned me into a jerky-eating fiend.

Homemade jerky

1 pound beef, sliced about -inch thick

1 teaspoon Hungarian sweet paprika

1 teaspoon brown sugar

½ teaspoon black pepper

1 teaspoon salt

½ teaspoon garlic powder

½ tablespoon Morton's Sugar Cure Mix, plain

Mix spices and cure. Coat meat by tossing in a bowl while progressively adding spice mix. Use gloves, as the mix stains. Refrigerate 1 hour.

Remove meat from the bowl and rinse. Drain and pat dry and arrange meat on racks.

If using a dehydrator: Set at 160 degrees. If using thin cuts, dehydrate meat for 2 hours. For thicker cuts, more time is necessary. When the top side of the meat develops a "skin," flip the meat and continue dehydrating. It will take less than half the time on the second side.

If using an oven: Start with cold oven, place strips on racks. Set oven to 160 degrees. Look for dry "skin" on the underside of the meat in 2 hours. Turn the meat and finish cooking as directed above.

Cook's note: If you start at noon, you are eating jerky before 5 p.m. But wait: It will get better overnight in the refrigerator, so don't eat it all when it's first cooked. Jerky keeps weeks in the refrigerator.

ManxKatt, via Ed's Diner (blogs.thenewstribune.com/edsdiner)

Jerky Tomato Sauce

3-4 ounces beef jerky

1 cup boiling water

1 tablespoon vegetable oil

½ cup chopped onion

½ cup chopped green bell pepper

Pinch kosher salt

2 cloves garlic, minced

1 can (14.5 ounces) chopped tomatoes

1 teaspoon dried parsley

cup heavy cream

Using kitchen shears, cut the jerky into small bite-size pieces. Place in the boiling water, and set aside.

Place the vegetable oil, onion and bell pepper, along with a pinch of kosher salt, in a large, 12-inch sauté pan over medium heat. Sweat for 4 to 5 minutes or until the onions are translucent. Add the garlic, and continue to cook for 2 to 3 minutes.

Add the jerky and its liquid along with the tomatoes, parsley and cream, and continue to cook for 8-10 minutes or until the sauce thickens slightly.

Serve over toast, biscuits, rice or pasta.

Alton Brown, Food Network