- [Babish] This episode is
sponsored by SimpliSafe. SimpliSafe is an effective, reliable home security system with no contracts. It's also super easy to set up. It took me less than an hour
to get mine up and running at the new house. Visit simplisafe.com/babish to learn more. - Who are you? What is this? - [The Voice] It is the Broodwich, forged in darkness from wheat
harvested in hell's half acre, baked by Beelzebub,
slathered with mayonnaise beaten from the evil eggs of
dark chicken forces into sauce by the hands of a one-eyed madman. - [Babish] Hey, what's up, guys? Happy early Halloween and welcome back to Binging with Babish, where this week, we're taking
a look at the Broodwich. I'm just agitating this spooky-looking meat and blood product, one of 666 separate meats
we'll be using from an animal which has maggots for blood. I am, of course, just being humorous. We're making five different
kinds of lunch meats, starting with this guy,
the honeybaked ham, for which we first must
manufacture a cure. For a three pound piece of pork, we're combining 10 grams
of pink curing salt, or Prague Powder #1, 50 grams kosher salt, and one gallon of distilled water. This is going to make
enough curing solution for our three pound chunk
of boneless pork shoulder, which we're gonna cure in the solution for three to five days, depending on how thick
your piece of pork is, removing both so we can get our creepy organ shot for the intro and so we can agitate it once per day, ensuring an even and robust cure. On cooking day, we're
simply going to pat it dry, insert our temperature probe, and roast at 300 degrees Fahrenheit for anywhere from two to three hours, broiling briefly at the end if necessary to get a deep, dark crust. And there you have it, homemade ham. Is it from an animal that
has maggots for blood? No, but despite that, it still
tastes really, really good. And it's gonna make an excellent
addition to our sandwich. Something else that's gonna make an excellent addition to
our sandwich is pastrami, which we're gonna make from this brisket divided into its lean and fatty portions. For our cure, I'm gonna start with a few tablespoons of pickling spices, about two teaspoons of Prague Powder #1, one cup of brown sugar, 100 grams of kosher salt, and two gallons of distilled water. Likewise, tiny whisk until
everything is good and dissolved. And then we're gonna drop
in our brisket pieces. Then it's very much the
same procedure as the ham. We're gonna fridge for three to five days, depending on thickness, removing and agitating
once every 24 hours. Then when the magical day comes to transform our brisket into corned beef, we're going to desalinate for at least an hour in cool water. Do this, otherwise your tears of regret won't be the only super
salty thing in the room. Then we're transferring
these to a big ol' pot, covering with water and
bringing to a simmer for two to three hours. And, just like that, we
have created corned beef, but we're not done. In order to make it pastrami, we must cover it with a
spice mix and smoke it. Three tablespoons of
crushed coriander seeds, three tablespoons of
freshly ground black pepper, and about a teaspoon each
mustard powder, paprika, garlic powder, and onion powder. Go ahead and tiny whisk that together until it is homogenous, and then we are distributing it evenly across our corned beef, making sure that every nook
and or cranny is saturated before heading out to the
smoker for about two hours at 225 degrees Fahrenheit. There you have it, a
slightly labor-intensive, but totally worth it, pastrami. But far from the most labor-intensive thing we're doing today,
or this week, rather. That's because next up,
we're making mortadella. I have here about two pounds
of very fatty pork belly that I'm removing the skin from and cutting into half-inch chunks. I am then separating them
into two evenly-sized groups, the most fatty and the least fatty. The least fatty group, we
are spreading out evenly on a parchment-lined baking sheet and freezing for maybe 15 to 20 minutes until it's just starting to
get firm around the edges because it's going to be ground. The fattier bits, we're
going to reserve in a bowl and keep it in the fridge
until we're ready to use it. This is gonna become
those big chunks of fat that you see in mortadella. We also need about three
additional pounds of lean pork. I have here a whole loin roast that likewise, I'm going to
cut in about one-inch chunks, spreading out evenly on a
parchment-lined baking sheet and freezing for about 20 minutes. Then we're also grabbing
our grinder parts, which we've likewise kept in the freezer so everything is nice and cold, and grinding together using
our largest grinding plate both the pork loin and pork belly. Now we have to make a spice mix. I have here a teaspoon each of
star anise and caraway seeds, which I'm gonna grind
together until finely ground, pass through a fine mesh sieve
to catch any big ol' pieces, and combine with a teaspoon
each garlic powder, mace, white pepper, Prague
Powder #1, and ground coriander. Also, three tablespoons of kosher salt. That seems like a lot of salt. Let's make it more like three teaspoons. Once we've gingerly picked that back out, we're going to tiny whisk until homogenous and add it to our coarsely-ground porks, which we're gonna toss together by hand until it's pretty evenly
distributed throughout the meat, but it doesn't have to
be super evenly mixed because it's headed straight
back into the grinder, this time on the finest setting, presenting us with the
purest of porky pastes, which we're still not done turning into as gooey a meat substance as possible. First we're gonna spread
out our ground pork on some parchment-lined baking sheets and freeze them for about 20 minutes. And then remember those
fatty pieces of pork belly? Well, they're about to get blanched, along with 3/4 of a cup of shelled, unsalted roasted pistachios and two tablespoons of black peppercorns, the whole of which we're going
to cover with boiling water. This is gonna soften everything up so we don't end up with
crunchy lunch meat. Once they've sat for about 20 minutes, we're gonna strain them
and set them aside. Then we are grabbing our chilled food processor
blade from the freezer and adding our semi-frozen ground pork. Then we're going to emulsify it together with some frozen red wine and ice water, adding about two tablespoons each per pound of pork that
we're processing in batches for about 45 seconds
until it is emulsified into a smooth, creamy ball. Once all of our pork is processed, we're gonna place it into
our very largest mixing bowl, give it a little massage
before grabbing a little piece and patting it out into a patty, which we're gonna fry
up real quick and taste to make sure that the
pork is properly seasoned. It's a little late to add seasonings now, but you could add more
salt if it is needed. Once we're good to go,
we're adding our cooled fat, nut, and peppercorn mixture and mixing until evenly
distributed throughout the paste. Then it's time to form our pork into the eventual log that
will embody our mortadella. Did that make any sense? We're forming the pork into a log. On a few layers of plastic wrap, we're both patting it out and pressing any big chunks
of fat into the center so they're not protruding out the sides. Once your desired log shape is achieved, we're gonna wrap it tight
in the plastic wrap, twisting up each end like
a big piece of pig candy, and rotating and twisting each end so the plastic wrap becomes taut and we end up with a very tightly-wrapped piece of lunch meat that we're
gonna fridge for 24 hours, both so our loaf solidifies and so the flavors can have a chance to get to know each other. We're taking one last chance to even out any inconsistencies, vacuum sealing and sous vide-ing at 158 degrees Fahrenheit
for five to six hours. Traditionally, mortadella is simmered at about 170 degrees Fahrenheit, but sous vide-ing is
just way super easier. Five hours later and
weighed down with a plate if somebody decides to
get a little floaty on us, we are transforming our sous vide into an ice bath like magic and plunging our pork inside, letting it cool completely
before heading into the fridge. Our other meats are much simpler. For our peppered turkey, we're just gonna simply coat
a turkey breast generously with kosher salt and
freshly ground pepper, let it sit in the fridge overnight before roasting at 300 degrees Fahrenheit for about 45 minutes, or until it registers about
145 degrees Fahrenheit. Don't worry, it will
raise up to 155 over time. Likewise, with our eventual roast beef, we're just coating a large eye round roast with a whole bunch of kosher
salt, freshly ground pepper, and letting it sit in the fridge overnight before roasting at 300 degrees Fahrenheit to an internal doneness of 120 before fridging and slicing. Now onto an equally important factor in our sandwich equation, the bread. In the bowl of a stand mixer, we're combining 510 grams of
bread flour, 20 grams of sugar, and 10 grams of instant yeast. Tiny whisk to homogeneity. Then we're adding one cup, or 236 milliliters, of whole milk, three tablespoons, or 44
milliliters, of vegetable oil, and then one egg, or a whole metric egg, a few generous spurts of red food coloring to get that devilish red look, and 12 grams, or two
teaspoons, of kosher salt. Affix dough hooks and mix on medium speed for seven to 10 minutes until a smooth, soft,
supple, bouncy dough forms, one that's as red as the blood red moon that is the only light in
your ever-darkening soul. Form into a ball, plop back in the bowl, and let proof at room temperature for one to one and half hours, or until doubled in size. And now, unlike most breads, we must form it both into a sandwich roll and into some horns and a tail. First, we're gonna cut off a small piece to form into our Broodwich trappings and the rest we're gonna roll out to about a 16-by-12 inch rectangle, which, like a jelly roll
with no jelly in it, we're gonna start rolling up, pinching from the bottom and rolling towards the top lengthwise, forming and twisting
into a submarine roll, being sure to pinch the
seam along the bottom. Then we're gonna roll the other pieces and do horns and a tail. I can't really explain
audibly how to do this. Just do it. I don't know. Place everybody on a
parchment-lined baking sheet, cover with greased plastic wrap, and let rise at room
temperature for 45 minutes until it's poofy and springs
back gently when poked. I'm gonna make some last-minute revisions to my horns and tail because they're gonna triple
in size when we bake them. Place four shallow slashes in my loaf and bake at 350 degrees
Fahrenheit for about 18 minutes, or until the thickest part of the bread registers 200 to 210 degrees Fahrenheit. Let cool completely on a wire rack whilst we prepare the last
homemade element of the sandwich, a super easy mayo, courtesy
of J. Kenji Lopez-Alt. In a container wider than the
base of our immersion blender, we are combining two whole eggs, one teaspoon of Dijon mustard, two tablespoons of lemon juice, one crushed garlic clove,
and a pinch of kosher salt. Blend lightly until just combined, and then we're gonna top with two cups of a neutral-flavored oil,
like vegetable or canola. Then we are plunging our blender head into the bottom of the cup, and then from the bottom
up, immersion blending. And you will watch with delight
as before your very eyes, this once liquidus mess turns into a mountain of magnificent mayo. And now it is my distinct pleasure to introduce you to a
new member of the family, my deli slicer, which I'm going to use to make razor-thin work of all of our now chilled deli meats, starting with the mortadella because that's the one I'm
the most excited about. And would you look at that? We made mortadella. So now on its very thinnest setting, we're going to repeatedly whack away at our emulsified loaf of meat, creating layer after
delicious meaty layer. I don't know if there's a
subreddit for slicing things porn, but, here you go. Mortadella ham, turkey, pastrami,
and of course, roast beef. Sure, it's only five meats
instead of 666, but, come on. Now, finally, it's time to
assemble that which cannot be dissembled or taken apart, the Broodwich. First, we are going to generously slather our homemade mayo across
our bottom loaf followed by, as our disembodied narrator from hell describes, Dijon mustard. Then it's time to begin
layering cold cuts, so we're gonna grab all of
our cold cuts out the fridge, get them ready for assembly, and now it's time to
pile high our sandwich with all of our homemade cold cuts. A moment of silence, please, as we watch this thing come together. (chill instrumental music) And there we go. As monstrous a mountain
of meat as ever was made. And now for a few slices of the one thing that
embarrassingly was not homemade, cheddar and provolone cheese. Our bed of evil and lettuce, and of course, copious
amounts of sun dried tomatoes, which Master Shake hates, of course, but I love, so I think
my soul is in trouble. One last smear of mayo and mustard and then it's time to
top the whole thing up. And then all there is left to do is wipe up any ancillary mustard smears on the outside of the sandwich and affix our horns and tail, which I'm going to do
simply by cutting some holes and shoving them in. No toothpicks or tape
or anything like that. We want this whole thing to be edible. And there you have it, the Broodwich, which I know cannot be
disassembled or taken apart, but it really needs a cross section. And, as you can see,
what we've got ourselves is a really good-looking
Italian combo, pretty much. Time to take a bite and see how it tastes. And it's definitely not
the best damn sandwich I've ever had in my
life, but it's up there. The bread is soft and squishy, the meats are thin and flavorful, the mayo is unbelievable. Oh my God. No, no, no, no. I have tasted the future and
it is scary and it has an ax. It might not be able to protect you from a sandwich from hell, but today's sponsor can keep you, your family, and your home safe. Thanks again to SimpliSafe
for sponsoring this video. Like I said before, the setup
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video description below.
Don't tell me to beware
I'll tell you where to be
So, I don’t know. She’s like, “ Move your skulls to the basement because I got these drapes.”
It is the Broodwich, forged in darkness from wheat harvested in Hell's half-acre, baked by Beelzebub, slathered with mayonnaise beaten from the evil eggs of dark chicken forced into sauce by the hands of a one-eyed madman, cheese boiled from the rancid teat of a fanged cow, layered with six-hundred and sixty-six separate meats from an animal which has maggots for blood!
I'll add mortadella to my "not worth the effort to cook" list.
He took me to Merry Christmas... which is a strip club. Merry XXXmas
I read a very disturbing article about this sandwich in... the Bible.
Hold the sun dried tomato
Hell no, I'm not marrying that bag of bones!
I’m all for these types of videos, but you simply can’t imitate anything remotely close to the broodwich without the 666 separate meats from an animal which has maggots for blood.