MeatBlog

“Dear Canteen,

PS. You do at least make a nice pie.”

I have just cracked into a bar of Mo’s Bacon Bar chocolate (pictured). A present from Simon bought in Japan, imported from USA and then re-exported as hand luggage to my fridge. Where it has sat for three weeks - being diabetic, I have to wait until the time is right for these things.

Chocolate is brilliant, no debate. Bacon is better, small debate but the House has it. Combine the two and we have the potential for a gastronomic Event Horizon.

Consider then, the hypoglycaemic, adrenaline charged culmination of a three week anticipation of bacon-chocolate ecstasy and I’m afraid the bar was never going to make the grade. Too much hype and too much hypo.

Bacon and chocolate are games for different bedrooms. Like introducing your wife to your girlfriend and hoping they’ll get along. Bad, bad, bad idea.

Still soooo good

Chaps, our t-shirts are ready and willing at Social Suicide’s shop (plug) or contact Tig for members rates. Ego sum Viscus. I am flesh… or more correctly, I am guts; 100% soft brushed 240g cotton.

Paul points us to this rather delicious looking Meat Martini recipe with handy visual instruction.

TheMeatClub blog now holds the fifth position on google for the search term - “Buxom Wenches”

More impressive however is that we also hold fourth position for “The best steak in London”

We’re also number 5 for anyone who wants to know - “Where to buy a whole pig in nyc”

Who knows, it might even be useful one day.

Harris Salat, acclaimed food journalist and our man in NYC pointed us to this new magazine Meat Paper. Fellow Carnisseurs indeed!

Prey silence for the Review Jacket.

Mr President, gentlemen.

As a serious and indeed serial bachelor, it is not often that I’m asked to speak at or review a wedding, but it is indeed a wedding that I refer to: the marriage of meat and man, taking place at Buen Ayre, Broadway Market on 11 April.

As I witness fellow gentlemen succumbing to marriage (Tig you’re next up I believe) I wonder why on earth chaps buy the whole cow when the milk can be had for free. But there’s good news boys because women are wising up. In fact 80% of women are now opposed to marriage because they realise there’s no need to buy the whole pig to get a little sausage.

Gentlemen I digress. There was nothing meagre about tonight’s sausage, in fact the sausage was but a sideshow in the parade of fine cow, cooked beautifully rare - their medium rare even meeting approval amongst the discerning connoisseurs of Meat Club.

Roope, in a moment of inspiration, perhaps illuminated by the bleeding velvet on his plate, coined the term “carnisseur”. Members may be pleased to hear I have this morning booked a meeting with the editrix of the Oxford English Dictionary (can you believe they’ve given the job to a fucking woman) to discuss the entry of this admirable term into the next edition of the dictionary; and I believe it perfectly encapsulates the spirit of Meat Club. We delight in beast, unadorned by the nonsense of vegetation so often served in restaurants. Let us celebrate cow, well reared, well hung, shown only passing heat and then served on wood to the salivating masses. Let us pass on crackers and bread, and focus on fine wine (marks deducted this evening for a too fruity red) and let us conclude with discourse on Waterfall’s inability to finish his plate, and the enjoyment of cigars, port and brandy. The management are to be thanked for their offerings of Argentinian port (remarkably similar to the red wine?) and let not the occasion pass without noting the fine song in which Meat Club regaled some poor lady as she celebrated her birthday. While I’m at it, damn the bitch for not partaking of either our sausage or our candle, both offered in good faith for blowing.

All in all a fine evening. Buen Ayre serves beautiful meat. May it be successful, and may it have our thanks for accommodating the motley, wondrous carnisseurs whom comprise Meat Club. I propose a toast to Meat and Friendship, equally rare.

Until next time.

Sandwith.

To Cook
Make sure the Suckling Pig is defrosted throughout. Clean it thoroughly inside and out. Then add the stuffing - in this instance sage, onion and black pudding (see Stuffing below). Close the pigs belly back up - I used cocktail sticks, but you could stitch it if you can be bothered. Line a roasting tray with foil and a meat rack and lay the pig on top. Rub some olive oil, sea salt and pepper in to the skin and loosely cover the whole pig with the foil (take care the cover the ears, feet and legs as these are prone to burning).
Cook for forty minutes per Kilo (this pig was 6kg - so foru hours cooking time) at 180°. Using the juices baste the pig every forty minutes. Then 30mins before cooking time is up remove all the foil, and ‘fluff’ the skin by sieving some seasoned flour over the pig, then seal the flour with more juices from the tray. Place back in the over and cook for another 30mins - or until the skin is crispy (crackling).

To Carve
Carve and separate the shoulders from body then remove legs. Cut along backbone to remove chops from rib and loin area. Eat the Skin!

To Stuff
I cheated, but someone has to. I bought a packet of Paxo’s Sage & Onion stuffing, but I crumbled 500g of Black Pudding in to the mix and stirred in well. This was left over night covered and in the fridge.

To Eat
Invite some friends over, maybe ‘Meat Club’ friends and scoff the lot.

(N.B Meatclub friends were not present during the making or eating of this suckling pig - the utter bastards)

Well, having gone to the good people at Forman & Field to confirm the order and having invited some of the Meatclub, the scene was set.
The 6kg Suckling Pig arrived on Friday 8am and was thorred to perfection by the following evening. He was immediately washed, stuffed (with Sage, Onion and Black Pudding) stitched up (not like that!) and left in the fridge to await his 180°, four hour fate.
Cooked to Perfection (if I (and all my guests who turned up) say so), having removed the foil and fluffed the skin (not like that!) 30 minutes before taking him out the oven. He vanished from the board quicker than I liked, but what a beautiful feast.
The only annoying, disappointing thing - not one of these bastards turned up to eat it!