Christmas feasting, part one

As the old saying goes (I think) 'If one Christmas meal is good, then more than one is even better'. Ever since university I've done a Christmas dinner with friends as well as the real event on 25th December. I can't remember if I did the year I lived in France when a) it is impossible to get hold of a turkey, and b) no-one I knew owned an oven, but I hope I did.

This year was destined to be a good one: not only did I have an oven but also three lovely housemates who are I'm very pleased are as greedy as me. I wanted to avoid turkey because I knew I'd be eating it on actual Christmas Day, and much as I love it I think part of its appeal lies in only having it once a year. Gammon seemed like a good option, it feels Christmassy and smothered in mustard and honey looks suitably Special Occasion. But gammons there were none (at least in Clapham Asda) so we had a leg of pork instead, and I'm so glad we did.

Normally I think pork can be a bit dull. Any bits of the a pig that haven't been cured or aren't covered in fat have a tendency to be dry and dessicated. Julian Barnes in A Pedant in the Kitchen once described it as 'tasting like the compressed cardboard from which they make hospital pee-bottles', and cooked badly enough I think this is pretty accurate.

We decided to try Nigel Slater's recipe for roast leg of pork with onion and Marsala gravy which was a triumph and in the process I think I have discovered the holy grail that is the Secret of Crackling. Two things that I think resulted in the spectacular, pale gold puffs of fat that crowned the pork (I forgot to take any photos so you'll have to take my word about its beauty) were rubbing the skin with salt that night before, and once it was cooked leaving it to rest then just before serving it putting it under a searing hot grill for a couple of minutes.

*The mince pies and mince pasties were made by my housemates Anna and Agnes, and are one of the reasons I'm very glad I live with them.

A leg of pork, around 1.5kg

Salt - lots

For the gravy

3 onions

Oil or dripping if you have it

2 tbs plain flour

2 small wine glasses of Marsala

1 tbs grain mustard

The day before you plan to eat score the skin of the pork at 1cm intervals so that the cuts go down into the fat but not the meat. Rub generously with salt and leave, uncovered, in the fridge overnight.

If you remember in time it is a good idea to let the meat come back to room temperature before you put in in the oven. I rinsed off the salt I'd applied the previous day (I'm not sure why, but I was concerned about it being too salty) and dry it well. A tea towel works well because you need to get all the moisture off it if you are to have any hope of getting crackling. Re-rub with salt, plonk on a rack in a roasting tray and put it in the oven preheated to 220 degrees. After 30 minutes lower the heat to 190 and cook for 25 minutes per 500g - for our leg this came to about two hours in total.

Meanwhile, slice the onions thinly and put in a pan with the oil/fat on a low heat. Leave them to cook very slowly for at least half an hour, stirring every few minutes and adding a drop of water it it looks like they might stick. I didn't do this and massacred the pan, but managed to rescue most of the onions.

Once the onions have become a single pale brown mass stir in the flour and cook for a minute or two. Throw in the Marsala and let it splutter for a moment then add the water and the mustard. Let it all bubble gently for at least ten minutes until it has thickened a bit and no longer tastes floury.

I don't normally make a separate gravy to go with a roast and just deglaze the pan with some wine or stock, maybe using a bit of flour, because that way the gravy 'matches' the taste of the meat. But this rarely produces quite enough, and on this occasion it was lovely to have far too much gravy, along with too much meat, potatoes, roast vegetables and wine....

But it seemed a shame to waste the gorgeous sticky juices and residue at the bottom of the tray the pork was cooked in, so I poured in a glass of water and let simmer over the hob, scrapping up the stuck-on bits from the bottom until it became a syrupy, amber liquid, and added this to the onion-Marsala concoction.

Once the pork has cooked (ie. the juices run clear or brownish rather than pink) cover it with two layers of foil, shiny side down, and leave to rest for at least 30 minutes. Resting is so important when roasting meat; it allows the fibres that tensed up in the heat of the oven to relax and the juices to flow back into them thus avoiding dry, cardboard pee-bottleness.

Jus before you you're going to eat put it under a grill set as hot as it will go for just a few minutes to puff up the crackling. As I type this I realise that some people might be concerned about letting meat cool slightly (although cocooned in foil it shouldn't lose much heat) and them putting it back in the oven might not constitute best food safety practice. But we were fine after eating it, and the meat was still hot all the way through when I carved it.

We ate the pork and onion gravy (which was fantastic - Marsala and pork are very good partners, and pork is always good with alium) with roast potatoes, parsnips and carrots, with lots of wine and then chocolate log. Perfection. Christmas Day has a lot to live up to.

Braised pork belly

I have always thought of pork belly as something that should be cooked in huge vats to be served up to tables full of rosy-cheeked children. Unfortunately (thankfully, come to think of it) I don't have any of those so I just bought to two little slabs you see above.

The few times I've pork belly I've done it with garlic, fennel seeds and chilli, which is good with all things porky, and I think would be great minced pork in meatballs. However, today I wanted to try something more Asian, inspired by Chez Pim's five spice braised pork and Eat Like A Girl's spiced roast pork.

So, peppercorns, dried chillies, fennel, a little piece of star anise and cinnamon were pounded in the pestle and mortar (the biggest, toughest-looking, best pestle and mortar, incidentally) and then smeared over the two pieces of belly. Ideally I would have left it to marinate for a a few hours but I didn't have time and it didn't seem any the worse for it.

I briefly seared the meat on both sides, then added about three tablespoons of fish sauce, two of brown sugar and enough water to just cover. Turn the heat down as low as possible and leave to simmer very gently for at least two hours. The water will evaporate a bit; this is part of the plan.

After about two and a half hours my house smelt amazing - sweet, salty and pungent - and the meat was beginning to fall apart. The liquid had reduced down to a few very intense spoonfuls made unctuous by rendered-down fat. I ate it with rice, lubricated with these juices, and with steamed spinach to cut through the richness. Any leftovers are amazing for breakfast, reheated and shredded, then piled on to toast which you have dunked in the fat.