How-To Guides

How to Cook Pigs in Blankets

What Are Pigs in Blankets? A Festive Favourite Explained

How to Cook Pigs in Blankets: Succulent sausages wrapped in crispy bacon, pigs in blankets are a must-have seasonal staple on the Christmas dinner table. Beloved by carnivores across the country, this irresistible combination isn’t just for Christmas – it can be enjoyed all year round.

For the perfect pairing, serve alongside a golden, crisp-roasted free-range cockerel, complemented by Bread Sauce Recipe Easy, redcurrant jelly, and rich, proper gravy. Whether it’s the festive season or any other time of year, pigs in blankets are a guaranteed crowd-pleaser.

Cooking Times for Pigs in Blankets

Cooking times can vary based on how crispy you prefer your bacon. For the ideal result – bacon with a satisfying crunch and gnarly, golden-brown edges – it typically takes 20–25 minutes in a preheated oven.

If oven space is at a premium (a common challenge at Christmas), pan-frying is an excellent alternative. Cook your pigs in blankets over medium heat for 10–15 minutes. Not only is this method convenient, but it also helps the sausages stay juicier while still delivering perfectly crisp bacon. This is our preferred approach for the best texture and flavour.

The Best Way to Cook Pigs in Blankets

Method: Best Way to Cook Pigs in Blankets

  1. Remove the pigs in blankets from their packaging and pat them dry to remove any excess moisture.
  2. Preheat your oven to 200ºC (Fan 180ºC/Gas 6).
  3. Arrange the pigs in blankets on a non-stick baking tray, ensuring they are spaced apart for even cooking.
  4. Place the tray on the top shelf of the oven and cook for 20–25 minutes, or until they are cooked through and golden.
  5. For extra crispy bacon, feel free to leave them in the oven a little longer – crispy bacon perfectly complements the succulent sausage meat.

Enjoy them as part of your festive feast or paired with a roast whole chicken for the perfect Sunday lunch!

Top Tips for Perfect Pigs in Blankets

  1. Maple Syrup Glaze: Add a splash of maple syrup during the last 5-minutes of cooking for a deliciously sticky, caramelised glaze.
  2. Even Cooking: Ensure the pigs in blankets are evenly spaced on the baking tray to allow for consistent cooking and crispy edges.
  3. Add Fresh Herbs: Tuck a sprig of rosemary or thyme under each pig in blanket before cooking to infuse extra flavour.
  4. Pan-Fry for Juiciness: If you’re short on oven space, pan-fry them over medium heat for 10–15 minutes. This method keeps the sausage moist while crisping the bacon beautifully.
  5. Serve Hot: Pigs in blankets are best enjoyed straight from the oven, so try to time them to be ready just before serving your meal.

These tips ensure your pigs in blankets turn out perfectly every time!

Pigs in Blankets: The Perfect Side Dish

Pigs in blankets aren’t just for Christmas dinner – they’re the ultimate side dish that pairs beautifully with a variety of meals. Their smoky, savoury flavour and crispy texture make them a star on any plate.

Ways to Serve Pigs in Blankets:

  • Classic Christmas Plate: Perfect alongside turkey, stuffing, and all the trimmings.
  • Sunday Roast Essential: Add them to your roast chicken or pork loin for extra indulgence.
  • Festive Breakfast: Include them in a hearty breakfast spread with eggs, toast, and beans.
  • Topping for Pies: Use them to top cottage or shepherd’s pies for a rich, indulgent twist.
  • Stuffed Yorkshire Puddings: Pop them into Yorkshire puddings with a dollop of gravy for an irresistible bite.
  • Party Pleaser: Serve them as a canapé with cranberry or honey-mustard dipping sauce.

Make Them Even Better:

  • Drizzle with maple syrup during cooking for a sweet and sticky glaze.
  • Sprinkle with a pinch of chilli flakes and brown sugar for a sweet-and-spicy kick.
  • Wrap them in pastry for a pigs-in-blanket-meets-sausage-roll hybrid.

Whether you’re celebrating the festive season or adding a little joy to an everyday meal, pigs in blankets are a side dish that delivers every time.

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  • We have all seen the videos. A chicken arrives. Five neat strokes of a knife. It falls apart as if by magic. That comes from thirty years at the block. Most of us do not have that.

So here is a slightly more Radio 4 approach.

A calm, sensible way to take a good chicken and break it down at home. Nothing flashy. Just understanding the joints, working with the bone, and giving each part the respect it deserves. When you do that, you open up a week (almost) of meals. Breasts cooked one way. Legs another. A carcass that becomes stock rather than waste. More on that to follow.

The only things you truly need are a great chicken and a proper knife. Ours is a beautiful honsuki knife kindly supplied by @kitchenprovisions and it does the job expertly. Sharp. Balanced. Delightful.

Watch along as @grylos talks it through.
  • Mutton has earned itself an unfair reputation. For centuries it was simply the meat we ate. Lamb is, in many ways, the modern preference, made possible by refrigeration and global trade. Before that shift, it would have made little sense to slaughter an animal before it had lived fully and bred. Sheep were kept for wool and continuity, and when their working life was complete, they became mutton.

It was part of a cycle. Practical and sustaining. What changed was not the meat, but our habits.

Yet not all mutton is equal. Age alone does not create depth. Mutton reflects the life it has lived. When sheep are kept longer and allowed to graze widely on varied forage, moorland grasses and herbal leys, time and terrain build complexity into the muscle and fat.

That is the mutton we favour and source. Darker, firmer and deeper in flavour, shaped by prolonged grazing on moorland such as this, just outside Skipton.

There was once a rhythm between wool on our backs and mutton on our tables. Perhaps that rhythm still makes sense.
  • Kindred spirits. Hot pans. Spiced mutton.
Swaledale x Canton Arms supper.
Wednesday 25 February.
To book email Thecantonarms@gmail.com

@cantonarms
  • Winter and its cold hands have us fully in a tight embrace right now. And so we find ourselves cooking more often than not, to warm our souls.

A ham at the weekend is one such thing that does the job. It can be used for all kinds of dishes and provide your weekdays with a plethora of fine sandwiches. But this fine cut also produces something else. An excellent, warming stock that should not be thrown away.

In fact, it should be used to make something just as special. A deep, hearty split pea and ham soup. And here is @grylos showing you how to do it. Like most things, if you cook with time and consideration, the by-product is often just as good as the main event.
  • Ask yourself this. When did you last have a really good pork chop?

This is why we keep coming back to it. Native, rare breed pork. Dry aged on the bone. Proper depth of flavour. Nothing like the pale, wet stuff you see elsewhere.

These are our Pork Chops with Rosemary and Anchovy Butter. Two thick, rindless chops. Two discs of handmade compound butter. Anchovy, rosemary, lemon zest, a little shallot. Old friends. It works.
  • Fancy a bit of a butcher’s tip? Or a hack, if you will. Well look no further. 

Here, @grylos, gets creative with a joint of boned and rolled beef rump, creating three, totally different meals, from the one piece of meat. A great example of some leftfield thinking and the perfect way to add a little variety into your weekly meal planning. Along the spectrum from raw to medium, your week could go a little something like this; tartare and toast lightly rubbed with garlic for lunch on Wednesday; steak night on Friday night, with chips, good red wine and a bowl of bearnaise; a roast dinner on Sunday. Bob’s your uncle, Fanny’s your aunt and a carnivorous and hugely satisfying week of eating is complete. 

All that from a single rolled rump of beef! A life hack if I ever saw one…

Did you know that our rumps won 3 stars at the Great Taste Awards? 3-star rump, you can’t argue with that!
  • Do you love bacon?

Here’s our in house science and history teacher, @grylos, talking osmosis, salt, and the slow work of dry curing bacon.
  • Burns Night, 25 January.

Two pastry wrapped tributes to Robert Burns.
Made with chef Josh Whitehead of @finer_pleasures.

A haggis sausage roll with coarse cut native breed pork.
A hot water crust pie of mutton and lamb haggis, oats, onions and spice.

Food for a cold night.
We have all seen the videos. A chicken arrives. Five neat strokes of a knife. It falls apart as if by magic. That comes from thirty years at the block. Most of us do not have that. So here is a slightly more Radio 4 approach. A calm, sensible way to take a good chicken and break it down at home. Nothing flashy. Just understanding the joints, working with the bone, and giving each part the respect it deserves. When you do that, you open up a week (almost) of meals. Breasts cooked one way. Legs another. A carcass that becomes stock rather than waste. More on that to follow. The only things you truly need are a great chicken and a proper knife. Ours is a beautiful honsuki knife kindly supplied by @kitchenprovisions and it does the job expertly. Sharp. Balanced. Delightful. Watch along as @grylos talks it through.
6 days ago
601
View on Instagram |
1/8
Mutton has earned itself an unfair reputation. For centuries it was simply the meat we ate. Lamb is, in many ways, the modern preference, made possible by refrigeration and global trade. Before that shift, it would have made little sense to slaughter an animal before it had lived fully and bred. Sheep were kept for wool and continuity, and when their working life was complete, they became mutton.

It was part of a cycle. Practical and sustaining. What changed was not the meat, but our habits.

Yet not all mutton is equal. Age alone does not create depth. Mutton reflects the life it has lived. When sheep are kept longer and allowed to graze widely on varied forage, moorland grasses and herbal leys, time and terrain build complexity into the muscle and fat.

That is the mutton we favour and source. Darker, firmer and deeper in flavour, shaped by prolonged grazing on moorland such as this, just outside Skipton.

There was once a rhythm between wool on our backs and mutton on our tables. Perhaps that rhythm still makes sense.
Mutton has earned itself an unfair reputation. For centuries it was simply the meat we ate. Lamb is, in many ways, the modern preference, made possible by refrigeration and global trade. Before that shift, it would have made little sense to slaughter an animal before it had lived fully and bred. Sheep were kept for wool and continuity, and when their working life was complete, they became mutton.

It was part of a cycle. Practical and sustaining. What changed was not the meat, but our habits.

Yet not all mutton is equal. Age alone does not create depth. Mutton reflects the life it has lived. When sheep are kept longer and allowed to graze widely on varied forage, moorland grasses and herbal leys, time and terrain build complexity into the muscle and fat.

That is the mutton we favour and source. Darker, firmer and deeper in flavour, shaped by prolonged grazing on moorland such as this, just outside Skipton.

There was once a rhythm between wool on our backs and mutton on our tables. Perhaps that rhythm still makes sense.
Mutton has earned itself an unfair reputation. For centuries it was simply the meat we ate. Lamb is, in many ways, the modern preference, made possible by refrigeration and global trade. Before that shift, it would have made little sense to slaughter an animal before it had lived fully and bred. Sheep were kept for wool and continuity, and when their working life was complete, they became mutton.

It was part of a cycle. Practical and sustaining. What changed was not the meat, but our habits.

Yet not all mutton is equal. Age alone does not create depth. Mutton reflects the life it has lived. When sheep are kept longer and allowed to graze widely on varied forage, moorland grasses and herbal leys, time and terrain build complexity into the muscle and fat.

That is the mutton we favour and source. Darker, firmer and deeper in flavour, shaped by prolonged grazing on moorland such as this, just outside Skipton.

There was once a rhythm between wool on our backs and mutton on our tables. Perhaps that rhythm still makes sense.
Mutton has earned itself an unfair reputation. For centuries it was simply the meat we ate. Lamb is, in many ways, the modern preference, made possible by refrigeration and global trade. Before that shift, it would have made little sense to slaughter an animal before it had lived fully and bred. Sheep were kept for wool and continuity, and when their working life was complete, they became mutton.

It was part of a cycle. Practical and sustaining. What changed was not the meat, but our habits.

Yet not all mutton is equal. Age alone does not create depth. Mutton reflects the life it has lived. When sheep are kept longer and allowed to graze widely on varied forage, moorland grasses and herbal leys, time and terrain build complexity into the muscle and fat.

That is the mutton we favour and source. Darker, firmer and deeper in flavour, shaped by prolonged grazing on moorland such as this, just outside Skipton.

There was once a rhythm between wool on our backs and mutton on our tables. Perhaps that rhythm still makes sense.
Mutton has earned itself an unfair reputation. For centuries it was simply the meat we ate. Lamb is, in many ways, the modern preference, made possible by refrigeration and global trade. Before that shift, it would have made little sense to slaughter an animal before it had lived fully and bred. Sheep were kept for wool and continuity, and when their working life was complete, they became mutton. It was part of a cycle. Practical and sustaining. What changed was not the meat, but our habits. Yet not all mutton is equal. Age alone does not create depth. Mutton reflects the life it has lived. When sheep are kept longer and allowed to graze widely on varied forage, moorland grasses and herbal leys, time and terrain build complexity into the muscle and fat. That is the mutton we favour and source. Darker, firmer and deeper in flavour, shaped by prolonged grazing on moorland such as this, just outside Skipton. There was once a rhythm between wool on our backs and mutton on our tables. Perhaps that rhythm still makes sense.
2 weeks ago
491
View on Instagram |
2/8
Kindred spirits. Hot pans. Spiced mutton. Swaledale x Canton Arms supper. Wednesday 25 February. To book email Thecantonarms@gmail.com @cantonarms
2 weeks ago
1516
View on Instagram |
3/8
Winter and its cold hands have us fully in a tight embrace right now. And so we find ourselves cooking more often than not, to warm our souls. A ham at the weekend is one such thing that does the job. It can be used for all kinds of dishes and provide your weekdays with a plethora of fine sandwiches. But this fine cut also produces something else. An excellent, warming stock that should not be thrown away. In fact, it should be used to make something just as special. A deep, hearty split pea and ham soup. And here is @grylos showing you how to do it. Like most things, if you cook with time and consideration, the by-product is often just as good as the main event.
3 weeks ago
14216
View on Instagram |
4/8
Ask yourself this. When did you last have a really good pork chop?

This is why we keep coming back to it. Native, rare breed pork. Dry aged on the bone. Proper depth of flavour. Nothing like the pale, wet stuff you see elsewhere.

These are our Pork Chops with Rosemary and Anchovy Butter. Two thick, rindless chops. Two discs of handmade compound butter. Anchovy, rosemary, lemon zest, a little shallot. Old friends. It works.
Ask yourself this. When did you last have a really good pork chop?

This is why we keep coming back to it. Native, rare breed pork. Dry aged on the bone. Proper depth of flavour. Nothing like the pale, wet stuff you see elsewhere.

These are our Pork Chops with Rosemary and Anchovy Butter. Two thick, rindless chops. Two discs of handmade compound butter. Anchovy, rosemary, lemon zest, a little shallot. Old friends. It works.
Ask yourself this. When did you last have a really good pork chop? This is why we keep coming back to it. Native, rare breed pork. Dry aged on the bone. Proper depth of flavour. Nothing like the pale, wet stuff you see elsewhere. These are our Pork Chops with Rosemary and Anchovy Butter. Two thick, rindless chops. Two discs of handmade compound butter. Anchovy, rosemary, lemon zest, a little shallot. Old friends. It works.
4 weeks ago
472
View on Instagram |
5/8
Fancy a bit of a butcher’s tip? Or a hack, if you will. Well look no further. Here, @grylos, gets creative with a joint of boned and rolled beef rump, creating three, totally different meals, from the one piece of meat. A great example of some leftfield thinking and the perfect way to add a little variety into your weekly meal planning. Along the spectrum from raw to medium, your week could go a little something like this; tartare and toast lightly rubbed with garlic for lunch on Wednesday; steak night on Friday night, with chips, good red wine and a bowl of bearnaise; a roast dinner on Sunday. Bob’s your uncle, Fanny’s your aunt and a carnivorous and hugely satisfying week of eating is complete. All that from a single rolled rump of beef! A life hack if I ever saw one… Did you know that our rumps won 3 stars at the Great Taste Awards? 3-star rump, you can’t argue with that!
4 weeks ago
2585
View on Instagram |
6/8
Do you love bacon? Here’s our in house science and history teacher, @grylos, talking osmosis, salt, and the slow work of dry curing bacon.
1 month ago
3598
View on Instagram |
7/8
Burns Night, 25 January.

Two pastry wrapped tributes to Robert Burns.
Made with chef Josh Whitehead of @finer_pleasures.

A haggis sausage roll with coarse cut native breed pork.
A hot water crust pie of mutton and lamb haggis, oats, onions and spice.

Food for a cold night.
Burns Night, 25 January.

Two pastry wrapped tributes to Robert Burns.
Made with chef Josh Whitehead of @finer_pleasures.

A haggis sausage roll with coarse cut native breed pork.
A hot water crust pie of mutton and lamb haggis, oats, onions and spice.

Food for a cold night.
Burns Night, 25 January.

Two pastry wrapped tributes to Robert Burns.
Made with chef Josh Whitehead of @finer_pleasures.

A haggis sausage roll with coarse cut native breed pork.
A hot water crust pie of mutton and lamb haggis, oats, onions and spice.

Food for a cold night.
Burns Night, 25 January.

Two pastry wrapped tributes to Robert Burns.
Made with chef Josh Whitehead of @finer_pleasures.

A haggis sausage roll with coarse cut native breed pork.
A hot water crust pie of mutton and lamb haggis, oats, onions and spice.

Food for a cold night.
Burns Night, 25 January.

Two pastry wrapped tributes to Robert Burns.
Made with chef Josh Whitehead of @finer_pleasures.

A haggis sausage roll with coarse cut native breed pork.
A hot water crust pie of mutton and lamb haggis, oats, onions and spice.

Food for a cold night.
Burns Night, 25 January.

Two pastry wrapped tributes to Robert Burns.
Made with chef Josh Whitehead of @finer_pleasures.

A haggis sausage roll with coarse cut native breed pork.
A hot water crust pie of mutton and lamb haggis, oats, onions and spice.

Food for a cold night.
Burns Night, 25 January. Two pastry wrapped tributes to Robert Burns. Made with chef Josh Whitehead of @finer_pleasures. A haggis sausage roll with coarse cut native breed pork. A hot water crust pie of mutton and lamb haggis, oats, onions and spice. Food for a cold night.
1 month ago
1166
View on Instagram |
8/8