Courtesy: William Jones, via Flickr Commons
It may not be the sort of main course you'd serve up to fellow guests on Come Dine With Me and perhaps does not fully repay all the effort the customary preparations require.
But mindful of the mighty pass out that Mme Salut had granted for cup final weekend, about which commiseration are unnecessary since I enjoyed the occasion, I spent part of Thursday and chunks of Friday on my first attempt at pulled pork.
Ignorance is nothing to be proud of but I had honestly not heard of pulled pork until a few months ago, appropriately from fellow subscribers to an e-mail loop of Sunderland supporters scattered around the world.
Many thought the dish had North-eastern origins. There may well be varieties there - I recall none from my youth - but it seems to have more association with the USA, recipes and methods modified from state to state.
So I bought my £10 worth of shoulder of pork, opting for the simplicity of the butcher's counter in Morrisons.
I did a mix and match exercise with the various tips on ingredients, sauce and cooking technique offered by contributors to the e-mail discussion.
Every recipe involved something sweet, from apple and orange to dollops of sugar. Unfortunately, I simply do not like the combination of sweet and savoury so restricted myself to a side serving of apple sauce.
I rubbed garlic, ginger, salt, pepper and mixed herbs into the skin and wrapped the joint in foil to linger overnight in the fridge. For the sauce, I used sherry and nut vinegar, white wine, hot pepper sauce, shallots and more seasoning, keeping the mix sealed and shaking from time to time.
For the slow cook, I chose an American suggestion to roast for an hour at 200 degrees before reducing to 125 for the next five-and-a-half hours, finishing off with a further hour or so at 200.
The meat was drier that I'd expected so I added the sauce mix for the final hour, occasionally pouring a little water to keep it moist.
The meat was easy to pull and tear and look reasonably presentable once shredded in the recommended fashion, using only forks. I served it with French beans and potatoes roasted in goose fat.
The result? Liked by all who tasted it, including five-year-old Maya, but hardly memorable. In fact, I wondered if the compliments owed more to la politesse than genuine appreciation. A five or six out of 10 on Come Dine with Me, methinks.
I am sure my next attempt will be an improvement, less sure that any likely improvement would justify the time spent in preparation.
Where, then, experts among the Salut! readership, did I go wrong?
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