Pork Recipes

Pork Shoulder Chop with Anchovy & Lemon Dressing

Having discovered a fine pork shoulder chop recipe, don’t skimp on the accompaniments. Use a good brand of anchovy fillets to deliver a savoury tone rather than an overpowering salinity. As a garnish, a head of fennel sliced into thin slices, brushed with oil and grilled on a cast iron grill, along with a good salad, is all that is needed.

Tradition dictates that pork is always cooked through until no trace of pinkness remains. I prefer to eat this a rosy pink medium; the sweetness of the meat and the tender juiciness allow the pork shoulder chop to shine. I have done this for years and have never suffered ill effects. The most important thing, though, is for you to cook it to how you are happiest.

There are other standout ways to enjoy this cut too. George Ryle pairs Pork Shoulder Chop with Endive Gratin, Crispy Sage & Watercress Salad. Another of his recipes complements the richness of the pork with Roast Shallots & Romesco Sauce.

Serves: 2

Prep time: 20 minutes, plus 1 hour resting

Cook time: 25 minutes

Ingredients

Method

  1. Take the pork chop from the fridge and remove from the packaging and leave to come to room temperature for an hour.
  2. Drain the anchovies of oil and finely slice them and set to one side, finely chop the garlic and the lemon zest and add them to the anchovies.
  3. Heat a heavy, cast iron pan. Season the chop well. Add a splash of oil to the pan and fry the chop on both sides to get a good crust, 3-5 minutes each side should do it. Then turn the heat down to low and cook gently for another 5-10 minutes, turning every couple of minutes to take it to a nice medium. (If you like to use a meat thermometer then a core reading of 52-55°C is a good guide).
  4. Then add the butter and let it melt and bubble gently. Spoon it over the chop a few times. Then remove the chop and rest on a platter in a warm place and rest it for 10-15 minutes. Lift the pan from the heat and keep to one side whilst your chop rests.
  5. When it is time to serve your chop, return the pan to the heat and when the butter is bubbling add the anchovies, garlic, chilli and lemon zest to the pan and cook gently for a minute or until the garlic has softened. Then throw in the herbs and a squeeze of lemon juice. Add salt and pepper if required.
  6. To serve, slice the pork as you would a porterhouse steak or cote de boeuf. Arrange on the platter with the resting juices and then spoon over the dressing.

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Instagram

  • 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.
  • 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.
Kindred spirits. Hot pans. Spiced mutton. Swaledale x Canton Arms supper. Wednesday 25 February. To book email Thecantonarms@gmail.com @cantonarms
21 hours ago
712
View on Instagram |
1/8
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.
6 days ago
13416
View on Instagram |
2/8
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.
2 weeks ago
472
View on Instagram |
3/8
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!
2 weeks ago
2555
View on Instagram |
4/8
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.
3 weeks ago
3498
View on Instagram |
5/8
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.
3 weeks ago
1166
View on Instagram |
6/8
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.
4 weeks ago
2787
View on Instagram |
7/8
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.
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.
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.
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.
1 month ago
712
View on Instagram |
8/8