Val’s Marrow Bone Canoe & Crumb

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.

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.

Winter. It felt strange being in Yorkshire, watching the news from the south where snow lay thick and sudden, while here January had arrived quietly, cold and wet, but not yet truly winter as we know it. Up here the season has always moved at a slower pace, and there is something steadying in remembering that. The idea that we should charge straight on after Christmas is a modern one, and it sits awkwardly with bodies and minds that are still tuned to pause, to take stock, to look back at the year just gone. Out on the farms, there is no rush but plenty to do. Some are already lambing, others preparing for it, working with the land rather than against it as the days begin, almost imperceptibly, to lengthen. The fields are still subdued, but there are signs, if you look closely, that life is beginning to stir again. And so, it feels right, now and then, to slow everything down and simply notice Yorkshire in January, not as something to be endured, but as a quiet and beautiful part of the year in its own right.

Now the depths of winter descend. The excitement of Christmas has passed, but do not let that fool you. These months are still some of the best for eating roasted meats and leaning into deeper, newer flavour profiles. Here is a traditional, and not so traditional, approach to our pork middle. We send a lot of our pork middles out to chefs, ready for them to stuff and roast in their own way, using both the loin and the belly. You will see plenty of porchetta on the market that uses just the belly. This is different. Using both cuts gives balance, structure, and allows the flavour of the pork itself to shine. For our website, we also offer a less traditional version, stuffed simply with our fennel sausage meat. That brings seasoning right through the joint, and a little extra fat to help keep everything moist during a long, slow roast. It is a brilliant cut to have, either as a roast or the following day, sliced cold for sandwiches.

Chef George Ryle @grylos, signing off the year with us. A delicious Christmas ham glaze. Nothing clever. Nothing rushed, but some useful tips. Thank you for watching, cooking along, and sticking with us this year. Merry Christmas.

We like doing things properly. Smoking is one of them. It is not sterile or shiny. But have you ever been to a smokehouse in Arbroath? If you have, you will know what this looks like. That black tar on the walls comes from years of smoke and years of meat. That is the point. We still smoke food properly. Many do not. Much of what you see labelled as smoked has barely seen smoke at all. For us, that matters. Food done properly matters. It will matter even more in the years ahead. So when you buy something from us and it says smoked, you know exactly what that means.

Much of the beef on tables and in kitchens at this time of year comes from Bill Whittaker’s herd of Belted Galloway cattle. They graze land in the shadow of Ingleborough, feeding on diverse forage shaped by limestone ground. It is land that suits the cattle, and cattle that suit the land. We usually receive Bill’s beef once a year, when it is ready. It is always a good moment when it arrives. Beef like this cannot be rushed. It follows the season. This is the way we like to work. Smaller farms, running the right cattle on the right ground, producing beef that fits the rhythm of the year. As we head into the new year, we are always keen to hear from other farmers working with native breeds, regenerative systems, and properly pasture-fed livestock. If that sounds like you, and you have something coming through, do get in touch.