I’m a grocery store, supermarket kinda girl. I generally like buying my meat shrinkwrapped with a use-by date. It’s fast, it’s easy, I don’t have to talk to anyone or reveal my lack of meat-buying nous and it’s – you know – OK.
But there’s a butchers on the edge of Wimbledon that we regularly pass by on the way to Richmond Park. It’s nice looking. I reckon it just may be where rich people buy their meat, and even if you’re not rich you need to have a reasonable net worth to shop there. I’ve only ever bought cheap cuts there myself.
My brother makes some amazing ribs. Tender, fall off the bone, sweet and crispy on the outside ribs. The kind of ribs that would show a Memphis native that a Middle Tennessean has got ’em beat both ways on BBQ. When he visits us in the summer, we usually set aside a day to make some ribs. But the first time we tried this set up we had problems sourcing adequate ingredients. We had been to a number of supermarkets and found some measly little piglet ribs smeared in suspicious red sauce in a little foil tray.
So, I suggested we try the butchers as a last resort, I’d never been in before. We got there and saw some ribs in a slightly less scary sauce, but still marinaded up. “Do you have any plain ribs?” we asked. Out they brought the most amazing full side of ribs, plump and full of meat. We had to get it cut up to fit in my giant boiling pot. There was a slightly false start when they began cutting them into single ribs, but the butcher realised his mistake when my brother and I shouted “No!!!”
My goodness, high quality meat makes a difference. Delish.
I had planned to go to the supermarket to buy a pork shoulder for Christmas, but was dreading the heave.
We passed by the buther shop yesterday on our way to Simon’s birthday walk in the park. We’ve had some lovely solitary walks in the park on his birthday in some very strange weather. One year it was freezing mist and the park was silent but for the ice droplets falling from the trees. Magical.
But yesterday was just plain miserable. Rain. Cold, cold drizzly rain falling on frozen paths. It wasn’t even as festive as sleet. We walked, slipping down (and Simon falling once) down to Isabella plantation and fed the ducks.
Who were very grateful for our meagre crusts.
Actually it was pretty amazing. I counted up almost 30 pair of Mandarin ducks. And a solitary wood duck. (These are pics from last year, because it was too wet to get my camera out.)
And then, because we were feeling very damp and cold. We left.
In an attempt to salvage our journey I suggested we stop in the butchers on the way back and pick up a pork shoulder. Which we did. Excellent service as usual. Freshly cut from a larger joint. This year is the first time I’ve ever tried cooking pork shoulder and it’s pretty fantastic.
I’m even more excited about trying it with a really nice piece of meat. A Merry Christmas indeed.
On our visit to Wisley on Sunday I had a purple cabbage coleslaw in the restaurant. It was fantastic and I thought it would make an excellent accompaniement to our pork shoulder roast. But I can’t quite find just the right recipe for it.
However, I did find a recipe for a congealed coleslaw. Yep, that’s right – coleslaw in jello (or jelly if you prefer), but there was no picture of the final product. Which made me think about the Weight Watchers recipe cards which made me laugh til my sides hurt the first time I saw them – which unfortunately was at work.
And no my memory was not faulty. Here’s what we could be having along with roast pork. (Only sadly, I have no jelly mould).