Suckling Pig

This isn’t a meal. It’s a spectacle. An adventure. A voyage across the twin seas of exhilaration and extravagance, skirting the rocky coasts of shock and horror and washing up on the shores of epicurean ecstasy. It’s also pretty easy.

Of course, there are moral issues to deal with: should you eat an animal that’s still a baby? How will your guests feel about you bringing an entire uncloven-hoofed ruminant to the table, nose, ears, tail and all? Tempting though it is, I won’t argue the toss: you’re on your own. All I will say is that if you decide to cast your inhibitions aside and reach for the culinary skies, this recipe will catch your outstretched hands and carry you off to glory. When I cooked this for my friends, we had the most wonderful, raucous, enlightening Sunday lunch I’ve ever experienced, and I’m sure that it was all down to that delicious, cheeky little pig and its heavenly crackling. Interestingly, we had lots of small children eating with us, and they were delighted rather than appalled at the sight of the entire animal.

This is pretty basic as long as you’ve done your groundwork. The following recipe looks like a long list of tasks, but that’s because I want to give you as much info as possible to make sure you’re confident. So plan your meal a week ahead and follow these directions:

In advance

First, measure your oven. If it’s a 90-cm range oven, you’ll be able to fit a 9-kg pig in without too much bother. If it’s a single 60-cm oven, you’ll need your pig cut in half (by the supplier). In this case, reduce cooking time by

a third and put it back together at the table.

Next, find your suckling pig. You can make this hard for yourself and convince your butcher to order one, but I wouldn’t even bother – much better to call Pugh’s Piglets. Pugh’s are incredibly helpful and chatty, giving you recipe tips, advice on how large a piglet you’ll need for your number of guests, and generally oozing confidence when you’re feeling a little scared about the whole shebang. These guys really know what they’re talking about, shifting 14,000 suckling pigs every year, mostly to Chinatowns around the UK. Give them at least a week’s notice. Your pig will arrive by parcel post in good time in a large polystyrene box with some ice to keep it cool. It’s not cheap – mine cost £75 including delivery – but it fed about 10 people, and no one’s claiming that this is just a snack.

When your pig arrives, put it somewhere cool – a whole shelf of your fridge if it’s summer. Then you’ll have to find a roasting tray with a rack that’s big enough for your pig. Few people will have a proper one – I use the grill tray and give it a damn good scrub beforehand.

Your pig will come prepared for the oven and, in case you’re worried, its eyes will almost definitely be closed. I can’t lie: if you’re squeamish, it can be a slightly gruesome sight, at least until you can smell how good it is whilst cooking. I didn’t mind too much seeing the little thing lying there, but the wife wasn’t keen. Now for the cooking …

Recipe

Ingredients

200ml Olive oil

500g good sausages

500g black pudding

6-9Kg (approx) suckling pig

150ml dark rum

4 tbsp salt

Pepper

1/2 bottle white wine

Method

Name your pig, then reason with it or apologize, depending on your view of the food chain.

Preheat the oven to 200°C/400°F/Gas Mark 6.

Add a small splash of olive oil to a frying pan and quickly brown the sausages and black pudding. They don’t need to be cooked all the way through, just seared a bit. Set aside.

Lay your pig on its side on the rack over your roasting tray. Stuff the stomach cavity with the sausages and black pudding, then truss the cavity up with string. (This makes manhandling the pig a little easier.)

Mix the rum with 150 ml olive oil – it looks like a lot, but you need it for basting throughout. Rub this mixture all over the piglet, then rub in the salt and pepper. Cover the ears and tail with foil to stop them from burning. Prise open the little fella’s mouth and wedge a stone or similar solid object in – you’ll replace this later with the apple.

Put the piglet in the middle of the oven and cook for 3–4 hours, depending on the size of your pig. Baste every 15–25 minutes with the rum and olive oil mixture. Halfway through the cooking process, turn your pig over. This is a bit tricky, so you may need someone to help you. At this point you could also slip your potatoes under the pig to roast.

Whilst the piglet is cooking, peel and roughly chop your cooking apples. Crush your cardamom seeds in a mortar (if you have one) and remove the outer husks. Put the apple and cardamom in a small saucepan over a very low heat. Cook slowly, stirring every now and then, for about 20 minutes until the apples have reduced to a mush. Pop it into the oven to reheat before serving.

When the suckling pig is done, check the crackling. If it’s not perfect, slip it under the grill to zap it up. Keep a close eye on it so that it doesn’t burn.

Lay lots of curly parsley on a large serving plate or chopping board and set the pig on top. Leave it to rest, but don’t cover with foil in case it sweats and softens the crackling. Remove the stone from its mouth and replace it with the small apple.

To make the gravy, pour most of the oil out

of your roasting tray and add the wine. Put it on a moderate flame and scrape all the gooey bits around until it tastes heavenly.

Carving

This is the one bit that always used to worry me – do you need a butcher’s knowledge to carve the little fella? Ho, no. Almost all of it is edible, including most of the head – it’s been entirely eviscerated except, perhaps, for the liver and kidneys – also delicious. At the table (don’t even think about bringing it to the table ready-carved) cut into the stomach cavity and allow the sausages and black pudding to spill out dramatically. Working on one side of the pig at a time, carve around the shoulders and take off the entire front and back legs. A front leg is too much for one person to eat, but great to share. Now for the main body: cut into the backbone either side of the spine and chop the entire torso into segments – serve bones and all. Keep going with all the other sections up to the head. All of this can be served, though you can leave the spine if you fancy. When the head is the last remaining piece, it should be presented to the most honoured guest with a strong enough constitution. They should eat the delicious crackling from all over; picking at the tender meat in its large cheeks.

Serving

Serve with the apple sauce, roast potatoes,

glazed carrots and perhaps some roasted beetroot. Take your place at the table to great acclaim. You

may now die happy.

Recipes and Projects

A collection of recipes from books and TV shows I’ve made.