Our ex-pat chef discovers yet another way to consume our favorite food
For much of my adult life, I was convinced that Southerners had exhausted every possible option when it came to eating pork. When a Southerner looks at an anatomical diagram of a pig, they see a roadside smokehouse menu chocked full of porky delights. Show us a pig leg and we see greens, beans and barbeque sandwiches. Show us Charlotte’s Web and the country ham hanging on the back porch becomes “Wilbur”.
Southerners have figured out how to fry pork skin into a snack and turn pig’s feet, ears and tails into something that’s not only edible, but enjoyable. We mix pig brains with eggs for breakfast, have sliced souse meat sandwiches for lunch, and eat small intestines for dinner—not because we have to, but because we want to.
Our love affair with pork runs so much deeper than hickory-smoked spareribs and pulled pork sandwiches. In fact, we’ve been eating “nose-to-tail” since Chris C. brought a baker’s dozen of these split toed ungulates to Florida in the mid-1500s.
Considering the South’s deep devotion to sus domesticus, how is it that a centuries old way of preparing pork has eluded us? How is it that a pork product capable of being used as an ingredient, as a standalone snack, and even in desserts is not in our Southern pork database?
I would like to begin filling this unnecessary gap in Southern pork prowess by bringing pork floss into the warm comforting light of the Southern sun. (Feel free to go back and re-read that if you need to, I did indeed just say “pork floss”)
Pork floss is beef jerky’s flamboyant Asian cousin. It looks like some Oompa Loompa’s threw a pig into Willy Wonka’s cotton candy machine, but it tastes like sweet, porky heaven. Both jerky and pork floss are slightly sweetened dried meats, but where jerky is firm and chewy, pork floss has a light, fluffy texture. Where jerky is almost exclusively eaten as a snack, pork floss is used in a variety of ways—none of which include dental hygiene, despite the off-putting English translation of its original Chinese name: ròusõng.
Ròusõng (pork floss) is an unsurprisingly popular food in China and Southeast Asia because of its versatility and balance of sweet, salty and porky. It’s called chà bông in Vietnam, mahu in the Philippines, mu yong in Thailand, and meat wool or pork floss in English. In Chattanooga, Asian markets such as Asian Food and Gifts or Sokdee Asian Market carry ròusõng under the names pork sung or pork fu—the latter has a bit more “chew” to it and is a bit less flavorful.
The process of making ròusõng is best described as a Kafkaesque metamorphosis, wherein cheap cuts of pork are transformed into something that makes us question the way we think about meat and how we consume it. Lean cuts of lean pork are stewed in sweetened soy sauce until the individual muscle fibers can be easily pulled apart with a fork. Once pulled apart, the meat is then strained and briefly dried before being mashed as it cooks in a large, dry wok to remove most of the moisture.
Other flavorings like garlic, onion and oyster sauce are sometimes added while the mixture is being dry fried, but I believe it easily stands on its own flavor merits. It takes about five pounds of lean pork to produce one pound of ròusõng, so this is one instance where store bought is far more practical and less expensive than making it yourself.
In the kitchen, ròusõng is like pork flavored fairy dust. A few pinches of pork floss tossed on top of plain ol’ fried rice makes it into something revolutionary. Add some pork floss in the final moments of cooking a simple stir-fried noodle dish and you’ll feel like a culinary wizard. Burritos, omelets, pasta, rice, hot dogs, congee, and hamburgers can all benefit from a few tufts of fluffy pork floss.
My personal favorite use for pork floss is a fried egg and ròusõng grilled cheese sandwich. Spread a thin layer of mayo on both slices of bread, add a fried egg, a healthy layer of ròusõng, some good ol’ ‘Murican cheese, and pan-fry both sides in butter just like a typical grilled cheese.
To serve, sit quietly and savor how the sweet, thin gossamer strands of pork dissolve into the melted cheese and rich egg.
Take satisfaction in knowing you are doing your part to maintain the South’s leadership in pork awareness. Spread the word.
Mike McJunkin is a native Chattanoogan currently living abroad who has trained chefs, owned and operated restaurants. Join him on Facebook at facebook.com/SushiAndBiscuits