Anatomy of A Sandwich: The Pig Bomb & Pig Fillet at Prohibition Taproom

I stopped by Prohibition Taproom last Wednesday to check out the specials during Chef Val Stryjewki’s first week on the job and to talk about why, for a wondering chef, Prohibition is a fit that should last [read the interview here].

Just before leaving, Val said something that would have me coming back the next night.

“We’re doing the Pig Bomb tomorrow, night,” he says.

“What’s that,” I ask, since Val isn’t particularly known for vegan fare.

“It has braised pork belly with a trotter croquette, lettuce, mayo, pickles, cheese, chayote coleslaw, pickled tomato, and a deviled egg with pork fat,” he says with impish delight.

With that, I returned the next night to learn more.

“We’re doing a Fat Head tap takeover and their brew pub has all these giant sandwiches and I thought it would be nice as a welcome to Prohibition Taproom to do my version of the ridiculously large, kill you sandwich,” Val says when I basically ask, Jesus, why man?!

“It’s The Pig Bomb because it has both pork belly and pork feet.”

Chef Val Stryjewski's Pig Bomb at Prohibition Taproom.

Chef Val Stryjewski’s Pig Bomb at Prohibition Taproom.

“I heard [from the bartender] you whipped the egg yolk in the deviled egg with pig fat?!”

“Yeah, it was yolk, pork fat, mustard, salt, a little chili paste, and back in the egg. I was gonna chop bacon in it but I was like, you know what….I think that’s a little too much.”

Presented with one of the more absurdist/simultaneously enticing sandwich constructions I’ve seen in awhile—a slab of pork belly sat atop the bottom bun, followed by bread and the fried, rectangular croquette, while a deviled egg lay pinned to the pickle atop the sandwich—I asked for more napkins ahead of diving into this massive paean to pork.

I smeared the yolk from the deviled egg atop the sandwich to get everything with one bite. First, there was the delicate, deeply flavorful pork belly that carried a bit of sweetness with it—the pork’s inherent fattiness enriched with a whiskey inflected stock that it braised in for six hours at 250° before sitting overnight in the stock.

“It doesn’t fall apart but yet, it’s real easy to slice. It’s very gently cooked,” Val says of his slow and low approach here.

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