July 4th. The Boys Of Summer.

"How do you measure a year?
 In daylights, in sunsets,
 In midnights, in cups of coffee,
 In riches, in miles, in laughter, in
 strife." - Jonathon Larsen. RENT.

During the 1980's, the AIDS epidemic struck Key West to its core. Even through the difficult times,  the small island community knew how to party and celebrate life. Michael and I  joined the party for a couple of weeks in the summer of 1987 to celebrate our 3rd anniversary. Innocent times.

July 4th. Key West, Florida.

Hot days. Hot Havana nights.

After spending the week prior to the 4th drinking like locals, inhaling deep sunsets, dancing until dawn, eating seafood, and devouring Cuban fare, Michael and I found ourselves smack dab in the middle of the annual July 4th city-wide picnic benefiting the Key West Visiting Nurses Association and Hospice. It was a grand affair that brought the community together with heartfelt purpose. As the uplifting and melancholy picnic wound down, the antsy crowd shuffled en masse to the White Street Pier for the real party. Bedecked in matchy matchy beachwear, we joined the throngs on the massive concrete pier.

The first section of the White Street Pier had been parlayed into an elaborate disco with padded dance floors, gigantic speakers, tiered lighting, and multiple bars. Jutting hundreds of yards out into the Atlantic ocean, the heavy stark pier seemed to float above the water under the weight of bodies dancing in the heat of the sun. Hot. Wild. Free.

When the sun  finally crashed into the sea, lamps submerged beneath the pier reflected silhouettes of graceful stingrays silently gliding through the dark water like lost sunken kites. Mesmerizing and beautiful.

Poof.
Without warning, in the distance, wispy fireworks shot into the sky from an invisible barge anchored out in the ocean far from the pier. Flickering. Fluttering. Twinkling. Falling. As the fireworks grew more intense, the fiery rain shattered the empty sky with light. Suddenly, a deafening silence swept over the sea before a recording of Kate Smith's "God Bless America" blasted through the darkness, washed over the quiet water, and spilled onto the boys of summer. It. Was. Glorious.

It took a few fun filled days to recover from Kate Smith, the stingrays, the sun, and the concrete pier. On our final night, we bellied up to a walk-up food shack and ordered a shared paper basket of  Cuban pork with black beans and rice. After moseying over to a nearby dock, we dangled our feet into the warm water, shared our last supper, and melted into the sunset.

Bringing the sunset home.

Cuban Pork Belly With Mojo, Black Beans, White Rice, and Kale.
Cuban pork with mojo, served with black beans and rice, is traditionally made with a fatty bone-in pork shoulder ( or whole pig roasted over an open pit)  marinated in mojo and braised low and slow
until the fat  melts into the meat before a quick turn under a broiler to crisp the skin into crackling pork candy. For a more manageable riff,  I took it for a Kentucky spin with a braised uncured pork belly with  crispy black bean cakes and local kale.

Mojo Criollo
Mojo, a piquant marinade made up of tart citrus (sour oranges), oregano, cumin, and tons of garlic, packs a highly seasoned citrus punch that cuts the fatty richness of the braised pork .That said, sour oranges can be hard to come by. While some markets sell bottled sour orange juice, a combination of
fresh orange juice and fresh lime juice is a great substitute to hit the acidic mark.

I mixed 1 cup fresh squeezed orange juice, 1 cup fresh squeezed lime juice, 1/2 cup olive oil, 2 teaspoons salt, 1 tablespoon oregano, 2 teaspoons ground cumin, 1 teaspoon freshly cracked blacked
pepper, and 5 cloves chopped garlic until thoroughly combined. After pouring half the marinade (reserving the remainder) into a large plastic bag, I slipped a 2 pound slab of pork belly into the mojo marinade and tucked it into the refrigerator to marinate overnight.

After removing the belly from the refrigerator and patting it dry, I scored the fat and tossed it onto a
hot grill (skin side down) to  kiss it with smoke and render some of the fat. After 10 minutes, I pulled
the belly from the grill, placed it onto a wire rack positioned over a foil lined half sheet pan, and slid it into a preheated 350 oven to roast for 2 1/2 - 3 hours, basting it with the reserved mojo marinade from time to time.

Black Bean Cakes
While scratch made black beans are fabulous, canned black beans are fine and dandy. Either one. Pick your poison.

I rinsed and drained 2 cans of black beans before mashing half of the beans with 1 teaspoon cumin,
salt, and pepper. After combining the mashed beans with the whole beans, I added 3/4 cup cooked white rice, 2 tablespoons minced fresh cilantro, 1 tablespoon minced fresh oregano,  1 clove minced garlic, and a splash of fresh lime juice.

After forming the black bean concoction into 3 inch patties, I slid them into the refrigerator to chill and set up.


When the cakes were firm enough to handle, I carefully sauteed them in 2 tablespoon olive oil until
crisp, carefully removed them to a side plate lined with paper towels to drain, and set them aside.

Belly Up
When the pork belly was tender and hit 165 degrees, I slipped it under the broiler to blister before pulling it from the oven to rest. After straining the mojo infused pan juices through a fine mesh strainer and removing most of the accumulated fat, I mixed 1/3 cup of the highly concentrated acidic mojo drippings with 2/3 cups olive oil, 2 tablespoons fresh snipped chives, 2 tablespoons fresh oregano, 1 1/2 tablespoons fresh mint, salt, and cracked black pepper to form a broken vinaigrette.

While the vinaigrette was still warm, I splashed it onto 2 cups washed and rinsed hand torn Casey County kale. After massaging the kale with the vinaigrette, I tumbled it over the black bean cakes, nestled the glazed pork belly into the kale, and drizzled the remaining mojo vinaigrette over the belly to kiss the pig before finishing with slivered red pepper for crunch, fresh oregano, fresh mint, and flaked sea salt.

Hot Havana days.
Hot Kentucky nights.

Sunset included.