How-To Guides

How to Cook a Boneless Rolled Pork Shoulder Joint

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What Is a Boneless Rolled Pork Shoulder Joint?

How to Cook a Boneless Rolled Pork Shoulder Joint: A boneless rolled pork shoulder joint is the ultimate choice for a traditional pork Sunday roast. Taken from the well-marbled shoulder of high-welfare pigs, this cut is prized for its rich flavour, juicy succulence, and unbeatable crackling.

Our skilled butchers carefully tunnel-bone the shoulder to make carving easier, leaving only skin and meat before rolling and tying to size. Whether you’re feeding a crowd or planning a more intimate Sunday lunch, we’ve got the right size for you — from a generous bone-in pork shoulder that feeds 16–18 people to an 800g cut ideal for four. For guaranteed leftovers (perfect in sandwiches, noodles, or fried rice), we recommend ordering a little extra.

How Long to Cook a Rolled Shoulder of Pork?

Cooking times for a Rolled Shoulder of Pork (whether bone-in or boneless) depend on the weight of the joint — but a long, slow roast will always yield the most tender and flavour-packed results.

As a general rule, a 1.4 kg pork shoulder will take around 5–6 hours at a low temperature. This allows the fat and connective tissue to slowly break down, resulting in meat that’s juicy, pull-apart tender, and topped with perfectly crisp crackling.

For the best results, follow our low and slow method below — ideal for a comforting Sunday roast or an impressive centrepiece for weekend entertaining.

How to Cook Rolled Pork Shoulder

  1. Dry out the skin
    Leave the pork shoulder uncovered in the fridge for around 24 hours — this helps dry the skin, which is key to achieving great crackling.
  2. Bring to room temperature
    Remove the pork from the fridge at least 4 hours before cooking to allow it to come up to room temperature.
  3. Preheat your oven
    Set your oven to 140ºC (fan 120ºC) for a slow roast.
  4. Season generously
    Rub the skin with oil and season liberally with sea salt. For extra depth, tuck garlic cloves and herbs such as rosemary or thyme into the crevices of the meat.
  5. Prepare your roasting dish
    Create a trivet of roughly chopped vegetables (onion, carrot, celery) and place the pork shoulder on top.
  6. Add moisture
    Pour in a little stock — and optionally, a splash of white wine — to build flavour and keep the joint moist. This will form the base of a delicious gravy.
  7. Roast low and slow
    Cook in the centre of the oven for approximately 5 hours, allowing the fat to render and the meat to become beautifully tender.
  8. Finish with high heat
    Increase the oven temperature to 230–250ºC for the final 20–30 minutes to crisp up the crackling. Keep a close eye to avoid burning.
  9. Rest before carving
    Remove from the oven and rest for at least 1 hour, loosely covered with foil in a warm spot. This helps the juices redistribute for maximum flavour and tenderness.

Top Tips for Cooking a Boneless Rolled Pork Shoulder Joint

  • Flavour your salt: Crush a tablespoon of toasted fennel seeds and mix with flaky sea salt before seasoning the pork. It adds a beautifully aromatic layer that complements the richness of the meat and the sweetness of the crackling.
  • Add apples to the roasting dish: Quarter 2–3 firm apples (like Bramley or Braeburn) and lay them in the base of the tray with your vegetables. As they roast, the apples break down and infuse the gravy with natural sweetness and depth.
  • Don’t rush the rest: Resting the pork shoulder for a minimum of one hour is essential. It helps relax the fibres and reabsorb the juices, ensuring each slice is moist and tender.
  • Use the fat for crisp roasties: If you’re roasting potatoes too, reserve a few spoonfuls of rendered pork fat from the roasting tray — it makes for outstandingly crispy roast potatoes.
  • Add wine or cider: A splash of dry white wine or good-quality cider into the tray not only keeps the joint moist but forms the base of a rich, flavour-packed gravy.

What to Serve with a Boneless Rolled Pork Shoulder

A boneless rolled pork shoulder is incredibly versatile — equally at home as the centrepiece of a classic Sunday roast or slow-cooked until tender enough to pull apart with two forks.

Roast it low and slow for around six hours, and you’ll have beautifully succulent pulled pork, ready for bold, flavourful pairings. Think soft tacos with pickled red onions, chipotle mayo, and fresh coriander for a Mexican-inspired twist.

For a more refined take, Chef George Ryle chooses a Rindless Pork Shoulder to prepare his comforting Braised Pork Shoulder in Milk with Polenta & Crispy Sage — a nod to a traditional Italian technique that yields tender meat and an irresistibly silky sauce.

Whether you’re serving yours with apple sauce and roast potatoes or polenta and bitter greens, this cut rewards creativity as much as it does tradition.

Order meat online

For 15 years, George worked in some of London’s most loved restaurants, including Padella and Primeur, and spent five years as Head Chef at the Garden Museum Café. He earned praise for his simple, thoughtful cooking, with dishes rooted in the classics and always respectful of the ingredients.

In 2021, George realised a long-held ambition with the release of his first cookbook, A Year in the Kitchen. It celebrates the annual cookery cycle, guiding readers through the British seasons, showcasing native produce and encouraging creativity year-round.

In 2022, George left London and returned to his native Yorkshire. His passion for seasonal cooking and respect for quality British ingredients have remained central to his work. Like his food, George is led by the seasons, open to new opportunities and always following his heart.

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  • 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.
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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.
@swaledalebutchers
@swaledalebutchers
•
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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.
5 days ago
441
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@swaledalebutchers
@swaledalebutchers
•
Follow
Kindred spirits. Hot pans. Spiced mutton. Swaledale x Canton Arms supper. Wednesday 25 February. To book email Thecantonarms@gmail.com @cantonarms
6 days ago
1486
View on Instagram |
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@swaledalebutchers
@swaledalebutchers
•
Follow
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.
2 weeks ago
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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.
@swaledalebutchers
@swaledalebutchers
•
Follow
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.
3 weeks ago
472
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@swaledalebutchers
@swaledalebutchers
•
Follow
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!
3 weeks ago
2555
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@swaledalebutchers
@swaledalebutchers
•
Follow
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4 weeks ago
3558
View on Instagram |
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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.
@swaledalebutchers
@swaledalebutchers
•
Follow
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.
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@swaledalebutchers
@swaledalebutchers
•
Follow
On many a recipe, the instruction ‘brown your mince’ is set out plainly enough. And yet, deep into January, when slow cooking is very much back on the table and recipes keep asking for the same thing, it feels worth saying that this is meant quite literally. Brown your mince. It does not say grey it. Browning is a process, not a gesture. It takes time, heat, and a little patience, and what you are doing is building flavour, not simply warming meat through. When mince is rushed, crowded into the pan, stirred too soon, it stews. It turns grey. The moisture stays put and the flavour never quite arrives. So here is @grylos , taking a moment to explain the difference, and to remind you that if you want the most from good produce, you have to let it work. Give it space. Leave it alone long enough to colour properly. Let it smell right before you move on. Because this is slow food month, after all. There is no need to hurry. Take your time, do it properly, and you will taste the difference in the finished dish.
1 month ago
2787
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