Pigs.....In......Sauce......

Dinner last night was such an unmitigated success that I just had to write it down before yet another tumbler full of brain cells get washed out to sea. It all started two days ago. I was sofabound, rendered a zombie by some weird viral force whilst Mrs B was out doing what Mrs B does best – partying. The telly was absolute tripe; I seemed to have the choice between reality “shows”, cross country skiing (why would anyone want to ski uphill?), Danish 1950’s films, Danish 1940’s films, loads of films with Wesley Snipes and a myriad of mind numbing series (doctors, nurses, hospitals, paramedics, hairdressers etc). Honestly, where is Taggart when you need him? Anyway, I was too inert to turn the fecker off so I snuggled up to BBC Food (after making sure Ainsley was nowhere in sight). Along came Gordon Ramsey with his F Word offering. I find this programme very contrived, his restaurant ghastly, his mingling with and sucking up to minor celebs painfully embarrassing (especially when he “subtly” tries to take the piss out of them) and Gordon, MATE, stop rubbing your fucking face all the time. You’re a chef in a kitchen on telly for godssake. No wonder your face looks like Gandi’s arse. And anyway, it’s not hygienic. And whilst I’m ranting Giorgio Locatelli GET A BLEEDING HAIRCUT. I cringe when I see him touching food, which someone will soon eat, whilst all the time trying to get that annoying, greasy hair to stay behind his ear. There’s a reason why people who work in food processing have to wear hairnets. I’ve seen Jammy Wallyver touch his nose (the nostril end like he was pinching off a snot drop) way too many times and Nigel Lawson In Drag is forever sucking her/his fingers. It’s foul. Yours truly, Angry of Mayfair….

But I digress, Gordon Ramsey has a couple of things going for him. Out of the restaurant he can be genuinely funny and THE MAN CAN COOK. He is quite brilliant, God knows how good his programme would be if he spent it just cooking. As it was I waded through the pond of poo and emerged with a golden nugget in my welly in the form of Mr Ramsey’s recipe for puréed cauliflower. Ta Gord….

Next bit of the dish came about at work. I’d dragged myself out of bed feeling better for lots of sleep (and sampling a few of the more exotic bottles in our drinks cupboard). During my lunch break (Heinz tomato soup with chunks of mature cheddar gently melting in it – mmmmm) I was reading one of those freebie newspapers and stumbled across a recipe by a well known Danish chef called Bo Bech. In Dansk this dish calls for pigs’ jaws although I think the Ingerlish would call them cheeks. In fact they’re jaw muscles. Jowls I suppose. Yes, jowls they shall be know as. In fish they’re a favourite of mine, a salmon or seatrout has penny sized ones, soft and succulent like tiny oysters. In mammals they require long, slow cooking. Hr Bech did his jaws with beer and parsley. I used English cider (scrumpy), onions and sage. But the basic recipe is deffo his so “tak”.

The final part of this tale happened in our local supermarket whilst looking for something “nice and easy” for dinner. A steak maybe or some calves liver. But fate would have it that I found a packet of pigs’ jaws. Jowls, sorry. Unless you read the package you’d never guess what they were as they look like large cubes of pork. I’ve never seen them before but I suppose I would have expected some bone and a few teeth. So into my basket they went, I came home and cooked ‘em. And this here be the recipe for…

Pork Jowls In Cider with Cauliflower Purée

Makes 2 main courses or 6 starters

Cauliflower Purée

½ a cauliflower in florets
Olive oil
1 glug of milk
1 splurge of cream
Salt and pepper

Soften the cauliflower gently in the oil. It doesn’t want to take on any colour. Add the milk and simmer until they’re just cooked. If the milk catches a little don’t worry, just don’t scrape the bottom of the pan. Luzz in some cream, chuck into a blender and blitz. This, as Gordon so correctly pointed out, has to be done whilst everything is piping hot otherwise you won’t get that silky smooth finish. And, which Gord didn’t say, remember to leave an escape route for the steam (this is why most blenders have that odd shaped bit on the lid that doesn’t quite cover the jug spout) otherwise you risk a little boiling hot explosion. I hold the lid on with a tea towel just to be on the safe side. Once whizzed season with salt and pepper. Beware: this stuff is seriously moreish and can be used in an endless variety of dishes.


Pigs’ Jowls in Cider

6 pigs’ jowls
I large onion
1 large carrot
1 parsnip
A few cloves of garlic (I used loads of course)
50 cl of dry English scrumpy (I used Weston’s Old Rosie)
A bunch of fresh sage leaves
Salt and pepper

Brown the jowls in a little oil. (I use a pot that works both on the hob and in the oven. Otherwise use a frying pan and transfer to a roasting dish, remembering to deglaze the pan.) Add the cider (it should almost cover the meat – if not add some water, or more cider…), a few sage leaves, some pepper (but no salt), cover and bung in a 150 degree celsius oven for 1 ½ hours. In the meantime finely chop your onion and soften in some oil or butter. Peel and dice your root veg. Peel the garlic cloves, leaving them whole. All these go into the pot after the 1 ½ hours for a further 30-40 minutes or until the veg is just cooked. Deffo don’t want mushy veg. Remove from the oven and let rest for half an hour or so before taking out the jowls. This resting time is rather important as the meat soaks up the juices as it relaxes. Like I do. Drain the stock from the veg, discarding the sage. The veg should be kept warm. Now, in a frying pan reduce the stock until it is thick and syrupy. It is at this point that you can season with salt (and perhaps more pepper). Add some finely chopped sage then the jowls. Turn them over so they’re covered in this rich, sticky goo and bingo – they’re ready. I fried some sage leaves as garnish which really worked. And this is a dish which, in looks alone, is worthy of a very expensive restaurant. I placed the jowls amid a puddle of the velvety cauliflower purée, scattered the veg around a bit, drizzled the last sticky drops of sauce over the meat and then lay a few sage leaves on top of it all. These things melt in your mouth yet are moist and succulent in a way which other cuts of oink can’t quite match. I will never be able to pass by a butchers or a supermarket without looking for pigs’ jowls again.