Uncategorized Archives - THE RESTAURANT INSIDER - By Churrasco Phuket Steakhouse

Biltong: Just Don’t Call It Jerky

by lspeed | Oct 25, 2026 | Uncategorized

South Africa’s favourite dried meat has attitude and firm views about its American cousin

My introduction to biltong could hardly have been better staged. Years ago, on a game reserve in South Africa, we set off before sunrise and soon came across a pride of lions having breakfast. They had killed a kudu and were busy making short work of it, while we sat nearby in an open Land Rover. It was highly surreal, considering that there was nothing separating my daughter and me from a bunch of hungry lions, other than the reassurance of our guide that we were safe.

He then did something better, reaching into his bag and passing around some biltong. So there we were, watching lions munching kudu while we were nibbling on dried meat ourselves. It was one of those African Moments people like to talk about, but with the lions having gone for the fresher option. I have liked biltong ever since.

When you run a steakhouse, you develop an interest in what different countries do with beef. Argentinians throw it on fire, the French add butter, and the Americans build grills the size of small garages. South Africans, though, discovered that some good meat, salt, vinegar, spice and patience can be quite enough.

Biltong’s origins go back centuries. Indigenous people in southern Africa were preserving game with salt and air-drying it, long before Dutch settlers arrived at the Cape in the 17th century. The newcomers added vinegar and spices familiar from their Asian trade routes, particularly coriander, black pepper and cloves. Biltong emerged so successfully from that meeting of traditions that it has established itself as an enduring part of South Africa’s culinary landscape.

The name itself though is less poetic. Bil means rump or buttock, and tong means tongue or strip. A brutally practical name for a brutally practical food, and that mattered. During the Great Trek of the 19th century, Boer settlers heading inland needed protein that could travel. Biltong stepped up and solved their problems long before vacuum bags, refrigerated trucks and health-and-safety forms arrived.

Today you find it everywhere in South Africa, at butchers, petrol stations, supermarkets and rugby grounds. Beef is the standard, but there is also kudu, springbok, wildebeest and ostrich. There are thick cuts, thin shavings and dry snap sticks. Some like it dry, others want thick pieces with a softer centre and a good strip of fat. Some wine estates even offer biltong pairings, and every South African has an opinion about it.

Ask three South Africans about what real biltong is and you’ll get four answers. There is, however, one subject on which consensus rules – it is not and never will be jerky. Calling biltong that is equivalent to telling an Italian that ketchup is basically tomato sauce. American jerky is generally cut thinner, often sweeter and commonly dried using heat.

Traditional biltong is cured with vinegar, salt and spices and hung to air-dry. It takes longer, and that explains why biltong has character, while jerky often appears to have been designed for a lonely life in a glove compartment.

Biltong also crosses cultural lines in South Africa. In isiZulu it is known as umqwayiba, and regional traditions vary, with some adding fruit or local oils. Dried meat also goes into stews, adding a concentrated savoury punch. While in Cape Town, we even came across a “Creamy Biltong & Wild Mushroom Pasta” on the menu of a smart restaurant on the city’s V&A Waterfront district.

These days, Biltong is popping up in Berlin and Brooklyn, and Hong Kong and Singapore. Helped by the growing appetite for protein snacks, there is chili biltong and peri-peri biltong. And – because apparently somebody had to do it – the world now has “Exotic Truffle Fatty”, infused with black truffle oil. We will leave that last one alone.

Overall, biltong makes a lot of sense for us steak people. We all like to start with good meat, don’t mess with it too much, then give it some salt, some spice and enough time to do the rest. The lions had an even simpler breakfast recipe.

Thankfully, we didn’t end up a part of it that morning.

Image Credit: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:BiltongUKOven.jpg

_ _ _

Reprinting, reposting & sharing allowed, in exchange for a backlink and credits

Churrasco Phuket Steakhouse serves affordable Wagyu and Black Angus steaks and burgers. We are open daily from 12noon to 11pm at Jungceylon Shopping Center in Patong / Phuket.

We are family-friendly and offer free parking and Wi-Fi for guests. See our menus, reserve your table, find our location, and check all guest reviews here:

https://ChurrascoPhuket.com/

#Churrascophuket #jungceylon #phuketsteakhouse #affordablewagyu #wagyu

It stinks, it’s rock hard, and Latin kitchens can’t get enough of it

by lspeed | Oct 11, 2026 | Uncategorized

BACALAO: HOW SALTED COD CONQUERED THE WORLD

To us as restaurant owners, nothing is more important than freshness. We buy vegetables daily, make our sauces from scratch, and insist that all our imported meats arrive deep-chilled rather than frozen. We have occasionally sent entire beef deliveries back because we could tell they had been frozen before they arrived, even if it meant that some menu items would be unavailable for the day. So we find it kind of hilarious that one of the enduring culinary traditions of the Latin world is built around a fish that conquered half the world precisely because nobody needed it to be fresh.

Salt cod began as dire necessity rather than brilliant gastronomy. The North Atlantic was full of cod, but many people who wanted to eat it lived thousands of kilometres away. Norse cultures dried cod into stockfish that would last for months, and traders relied on salt for preservation. Religion then provided a massive marketing boost, because Catholics observe so many meatless days, particularly Fridays and Lent. A fish able to survive a long journey and sit patiently in a storeroom was both useful and valuable.

Nobody seems quite sure where the name of this peculiar dried fish comes from. One theory is that the word is related to the Dutch kabeljauw (cod), with the sounds of the word adapted as it travelled south to the Iberian Peninsula. Another suggests it may come from the Latin baculum, meaning stick, because dried cod is as stiff as one. Culinary history is full of such linguistic migrations and contortions, but in the end it’s all about taste and acceptance.

Venice turned it into baccalà mantecato, a Venetian menu mainstay, by working the soaked fish with olive oil until pale and almost mousse-like, then serving it on polenta or crostini. Further inland in Vicenza, bacalà alla vicentina is cooked slowly with onions, anchovies, olive oil and milk until soft and rich. Confusingly, both cities use the word baccalà for dried stockfish, while other Italians use it for salt cod. We don’t get involved, because one of our owners is Italian, and know better than to referee them about food.

Portugal took the relationship further than anyone. Its fishermen sailed as far as Newfoundland in search of cod, and bacalhau became central to the national kitchen. Hence the famous claim of 365 recipes, one for every day of the year. Spain developed its own formidable tradition, including the Basque bacalao al pil-pil, where cod, garlic and olive oil are gently worked together until the fish’s natural gelatin emulsifies with the oil to create a thick, silky sauce. With so few ingredients, there is nowhere for the cook to hide, which is why chefs have so much respect for it.

The fish eventually crossed the Atlantic, but for much less romantic reasons. Salt cod became an important food in the Caribbean plantation economy, including as provisions for enslaved workers. Over time, it was absorbed into local cooking, and Jamaica’s ackee and saltfish became the national dish. Other expressions, like bacalao guisado, combine shredded cod with tomatoes, peppers, onions, olives and capers. A preservation method developed around the cold North Atlantic had found an entirely new tropical life in the Caribbean.

South America embraced it too, most obviously in Brazil, where Portuguese colonisation brought the bacalhau tradition across the Atlantic. It remains closely associated with Christmas, Easter and family celebrations. Brazilians bake it with potatoes, onions, peppers, olives and plenty of olive oil, and turn it into casseroles and bolinhos de bacalhau, crisp little salt-cod fritters that quickly disappear at parties. Elsewhere on the continent, particularly in countries with strong Spanish and Portuguese influence, salt cod appears in stews, empanadas and Easter dishes.

As a South American steakhouse, we have occasionally debated adding it to the menu. So far the answer has been no, because anything that needs days of soaking before cooking would lead to a mass kitchen staff exodus. And we are a steakhouse, after all. But we have enormous respect for an ingredient that travelled from the North Atlantic to Italy, Iberia, the Caribbean and South America, changing character wherever it landed.

Sometimes, freshness isn’t everything.

Image Credit: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dried_and_salted_cod