Praise be to pigs, those wonderful magical animals

Is there any meat more godlike than pork? Really? I mean, I love a great steak as much as the next carnivore, but when you consider the sheer joy that one pig can bring to a table, it's kind of hard for anything else to compete in my mind. It's absurd to think that something as life-changing as bacon is just one of its many gifts. You may have already surmised from the name of my blog that even its skin is a dear, dear love of mine. Sausages, pork belly, ribs, pork chops, meatballs, pork neck.....the list is endless. If we were only allowed to consume one tasty, tasty creature for the rest of our lives, I would choose pigs in a heartbeat (sorry cows, you're just too one dimensional).

Me and Grandma, way back

When I was a kid, my mum used to take me back to her home in northern Serbia, a small farming village called Mokrin. There, raising animals on your farm and then eating them was a completely natural way of life for the locals. My grandparents' farm was like shangri-la for someone that loved animals. We had pigs, chickens, cats, dogs, a goat, a cow, and all manner of fruit and vegetation. In the mornings I would forage around the chicken coops and the giant haystack hotel for newly laid eggs and deposit them in the larder. Oh my god those eggs......as big as lightbulbs and with yolks like early afternoon sunshine. I have seriously never had better eggs than the ones my grandma used to fry in lard (obviously), in her old cast iron pan.

But I digress. Every Easter, it is the tradition in the village to have a suckling pig lunch. So in some crazy twisted yugoslav ritual, they release the pig that's deemed lunch-worthy into the courtyard, and the kids have to chase it and catch it. Looking back on it, it strikes me as an absurdly messed up situation, screaming children chasing a screaming pig, in preparation for it to be slaughtered. To some it might seem like some sadistic mindjob, a mash-up of Deliverance and Lord of the Flies meets Delicatessen. Obviously at the time many of the kids didn't quite realise the grim purpose of their task. It did however seem like a natural thing to do in some ways, to give the kids a bit of fun as part of the Easter festivities, and then get them out of there before the wetwork starts. Although I did often wonder what some of the older kids who lived there, who went through the same ritual every year must have thought. Then again most of them were total psychopaths, so it was probably a typical day in the office. If you know any Serbians you'll understand.

As a kid I absolutely adored the pigs, and would spend most of my days on the farm knee-deep in shit just chilling with them, because, well they're awesome and tremendously charismatic creatures. Obviously I was not very welcome back inside the house until I'd been hosed down, but that was an acceptable price to pay. So because of that, this 'game' of chasing the pig and then watching it get killed was kind of traumatic, but ultimately healthy. Because it gave me a simple, clear perspective of where our food came from. You want those amazing sausages, that incredible crackling, those silky soft cheeks? An animal's gotta die. And you should be ok with that if you want to enjoy your meat. If anything, seeing something like that at an early age made me a lot more comfortable handling meat and other foods (which led to me skinning a rabbit bare-handed at a stag do. Long story). And because this is a family farm we're talking about, every single piece of the animal is used. Whether it's frozen, smoked, minced, pickled, you name it, not a single scrap of that beast goes to waste.

Me and the big man, eggs in hand

Once slaughtered, the entire pig would be taken to the local baker, who was the only guy with an oven big enough to fit an entire pig. He would then roast the pig overnight, and my uncle and I would then go and collect it the next day. Aside from the natural enjoyment of convening a handful of generations of family around a table, there is something wonderfully medieval about seeing an entire suckling pig before you - I kind of feel like a viking when I see an entire leg of pig come off, or some lucky blighter make off with one of the ears (don't knock it, they are absolutely amazing). If you've never had suckling pig, it is a special and luxurious dish, while still feeling uniquely rustic and old fashioned. The crackling is like sheets of caramel, and the meat is achingly tender and juicy. The fat on any cut of meat is always the surest sign of quality, and the fat on a naturally raised suckling pig is like the nectar of the gods. Don't even get me started on the bone marrow. If this has given you the urge to try one, then get 12 of your friends and head to the legendary St. John, near Smithfield market. They do a suckling pig feast that is meant to be spectacular.

That being said, a suckling pig is not exactly an easily sourced or cheap meal. So as a little treat, instead I'm going to tell you how to make your own pulled pork. Anyone that's had good pulled pork before is probably drooling right now, and anyone that's ever made it at home will happily report that it is actually stupidly easy to make yourself. All you need is a decent sized slow cooker or roasting tray, a healthy dollop of patience, and some excellent barbecue sauce. It really couldn't be easier, so much so that the first time I made it I wanted to smack myself for not trying it sooner.

Pulled Pork with Awesomesauce

You're better off with a roasting tray, mine was in use

So let's get cracking. You'll need the following for the pork itself:

• 2kg pork shoulder (boneless, preferably)
• 1 onion, peeled and quartered
• 1/3 cup apple cider vinegar
• ~1 cup dark brown sugar
• Worcestershire Sauce
• Salt & Pepper

Preheat your oven to 170 C / 325 F / Gas Mark 3. Score the pork gently, and rub salt, pepper and some worcesteshire sauce over the entire joint. Place the quartered onion in the roasting tray or slow cooker, then place the pork shoulder on top. Pat the brown sugar on top of the joint to form a crust, then pour the apple cider vinegar over the meat.

Force yourself not to eat it just yet. It gets better.

Cover the baking tray snugly with one or two sheets of tinfoil, and pop in the oven for four hours minimum. The longer you leave the meat in, the better it will taste. I cooked it for seven hours for the superbowl and it was kind of amazing. I'd say 8 hours is the maximum if you value your sanity.

When you just can't stand waiting any more, take the pork out of the oven (keep the foil on) and let it rest for an hour. Believe me, it will not get cold. Resist the temptation to dig into it, because resting it properly is essential for all those incredible juices to redistribute inside the meat. Once it's rested, grab two forks and just go to town shredding the joint. Once you've shredded the pork, put it into a baking tray or oven dish, and mix with a liberal pour of your favourite barbecue sauce (more on this below). Put it directly under the grill for 5-10 minutes until it starts bubbling and the edges start to get crispy.

It's ok if you let yourself eat a bit at this point. God will forgive you.

Eat me.

By now you will be absolutely ravenous, so don't waste any time. Grab some fresh white rolls (the softer the better), pile in a heap of pulled pork, top with some decent coleslaw, and eat the damn thing immediately. Then make several more. Thank me later. You might want some pickles in there, but to be honest you will be having more than one, so experiment. Personally, I like to keep it simple and enjoy the pork, I just find the coleslaw is a nice soothing counterbalance to the acid from the pork and the barbecue sauce.

It's worth always having a condiment for your favourite dishes 

Now if you're lucky, you have a bottle of amazing barbecue sauce that you've somehow smuggled back from the states. In my case, it's the original recipe BBQ sauce from The Salt Lick, in Austin, Texas. It's one of the most unique sauces I've come across - slightly sweet and vinegary, with a consistency more like salad dressing, it combines with pork in a way that no other sauce I've tasted does. Obviously there are different scratches for different itches (I prefer a thicker sauce with chicken), but this sauce trumps all my others consistently.

Don't worry if you don't have a good one though, you can make your own very easily. After slow-cooking a pork joint for hours and hours, do not, under any circumstances, use some cheap supermarket barbecue sauce. I cannot stress this enough - it would be a crime to sully the beauty of your lovely pork with some half-rate sauce. If you don't own some of the good stuff, it takes no time or effort at all to make your own. Here's an awesome recipe I found for homemade bourbon barbecue sauce - it's a doddle to cook, and it tastes leagues better than anything you'll find bottled here in the UK (except perhaps Bodeans' own brand). It also keeps very well in the fridge, this recipe gives you a decent jar-full to enjoy.

(P.S. if any of you have sourced liquid smoke here in London, let me know where!)

Ingredients
Half an onion, minced
4 cloves of garlic, minced
3/4 cup bourbon whiskey
1/2 teaspoon ground black pepper
1/2 tablespoon salt
2 cups ketchup
1/4 cup tomato paste
1/3 cup cider vinegar
2 tablespoons Liquid Smoke flavouring (I've never found this in London, it was fine without it)
1/4 cup Worcestershire sauce
1/2 packed brown sugar
1/3 teaspoon hot chilli sauce, to taste

Directions

• In a large pan over medium heat, combine the onion, garlic and whiskey. Bring it to a simmer and leave it for at least 10 minutes, until the onion is softened and translucent. Mix in the ground black pepper, salt, ketchup, tomato paste, vinegar, liquid smoke, worcestershire sauce, brown sugar and hotsauce.

• Bring the whole thing to a boil, then reduce the heat to low and simmer for 20 minutes. By this point it should smell divine, taste and adjust the seasoning as needed. Run the sauce through a strainer and you are good to go.

• You can store any leftover sauce in an old jar in the fridge, it will keep for several weeks.

And there you have it: a mountain of pulled pork and a jar full of homemade barbecue sauce. You can shove it into buns or have it on it's own with veggies. The wonderful thing is that aside from shoving the pork in the oven, there's virtually no effort needed on your part. Make this for your friends as a sunday lunch and they will love you for it, and you don't need to be slaving away in the kitchen. Pork is an incredible thing, and this is one of the best possible ways to celebrate it.