When the meat is at a temperature at which it can be comfortably handled, but is still warm, lift the legs from the fat and place in a tray. Strain off the remaining fat and keep, throwing away the cooked aromatics. With scrupulously clean hands, carefully pick all the meat from the bones, paying particular attention to removing the nasty, needle-like cartilage. The cooked skin is lovely and should on no account be chucked out, although it is not required for the rillettes. (It is great pan-fried or baked on a rack in a low oven until crisp and used in warm salads.) On a big chopping board, pull the duck meat apart using two forks, or simply chop up with a heavy knife. Try not to eat too much of the duck at this stage or a proportion of your carefully sourced Kilner jars will soon become redundant. How smooth you like your finished rillettes is a matter of personal choice and it is this chopping or ‘stripping’ stage that will determine the final texture.
Add the chopped or shredded duck to a large china bowl and gradually beat in the still-warm, strained duck fat, slowly at first as if you are making mayonnaise. At this stage you need to give it some serious welly with a wooden spoon, as you want the fat to bind with the meat – use your fingers if it helps. Avoid the food processor, as this will lead to an oversmooth and pasty finish. The flat paddle on a food mixer (such as a Kenwood) is useful here, but I prefer doing it by hand. You will need to add approximately half the volume of fat as meat, which seems like a ridiculously large amount (and it is), but it is this copious fat content that adds the necessary degree of delicious luxury to the rillettes. It is vital to get the seasoning right at this stage. If the legs were adequately rubbed in the first place, it may not require any additional salt, but probably will. Plenty of pepper is a must.
As the mixture cools, beat it every few minutes to prevent the fat separating from the meat. When it is almost completely cold, store in sealable containers – old-fashioned Kilner jars are perfect for this. This recipe makes about 1.5 litres in total so choose your storage jars accordingly. Make sure there are no air pockets in the jars and reheat some of the remaining fat if it has solidified, in order to pour a 5mm layer over the top to seal the rillettes before closing the lid.
This will keep for months in the fridge, but once opened needs to be consumed within a week or so. For this reason, if you are buying jars especially for the job, it is better to buy several smaller jars rather than one or two bigger ones. Eat with crusty brown bread or toasted brioche and a green salad, or cornichons. There is much conjecture as to what temperature the rillettes should be when eaten, with some foody stalwarts snottily eschewing any that are not served at room temperature or even warmed slightly. Personally, I find this only exaggerates the inherent fattiness of the dish and I am happy to risk the accusation of heresy by stating my preference for them served straight from the fridge, or at cool larder temperature. Amen.
Pork terrine with (or without) prunes
If I am dining in a decent restaurant and see pork terrine on the menu, I simply have to order it. There may be other things that catch my eye and it might be that my mood/appetite/the weather dictates the additional summoning of a shellfish or salady starter. But the terrine has to be tasted. A good terrine requires timing, skill, judgement and, of course, taste. It is not, contrary to what one often reads, easy to make well, but when just so, it is unspeakably delicious. And unlike some other time-consuming and ‘technical’ dishes I could mention, the considerable effort and time put into preparing, cooking and serving a decent terrine is in direct proportion to the pleasure derived from eating it. In short, it is worth the effort and there is much point to the whole process. For this reason I feel that a magnificent terrine should be left to stand alone so that it can be savoured without the interruption of unwanted garnishes. A few dressed, crisp green leaves perhaps; or some cornichons and grain mustard maybe; some crusty bread or toast with fresh butter certainly, but that’s it. Save your chutneys and fancy vinaigrettes for dishes that need the bolster; this doesn’t.
I hope it goes without saying that the better the meat, the better the terrine. For this dish at Chez Bruce we use the superb pork from Richard Vaughan’s Middle White pigs, which are reared on his achingly beautiful farm near Ross-on-Wye in the Welsh Marches. Richard describes the meat provided by these happy pigs as ‘the Chateau Lafite of pork’ and he’s not wrong. I have visited Richard and his lovely wife Rosamund (who, as well as being an ace cook, plays the piano to concert standard and speaks fluent Arabic – in short, a talented lady) on several occasions and have wonderful memories of Huntsham Farm. In fact, another visit is surely due.
Makes 1 big terrine to serve 10–12 comfortably as a starter (any leftover mixture can be fried in small patties for the best-ever pork burgers)
1 large onion, peeled and finely chopped
2 cloves of garlic, peeled and finely chopped
3 bay leaves
75g unsalted butter
300g pork fillet, trimmed
500g pork shoulder, without rind
375g pork belly, without rind
200g pork liver (or chicken liver)
125ml decent dry white wine
15–20 fresh sage leaves
½ bunch of fresh thyme, leaves picked and chopped
fresh nutmeg
sea salt and freshly ground black pepper
about 20 thin slices of Italian lardo, or back fat, or 24–30 thin slices of pancetta (pre-sliced stuff from supermarkets is ideal for this)
about 12 pitted Agen prunes, ideally macerated in Armagnac (optional)
It is acceptable and much quicker to pass the meat, roughly chopped, through the coarse blade of a mincer (if you have one). However, never one to take a short cut for the sake of it, I feel the texture of this terrine is improved considerably if all the chopping is done by hand. For this you will require a very big board, a very sharp, large cook’s knife and plenty of patience, as it is time consuming. A smaller (equally sharp) knife is also useful to remove the occasional piece of subcutaneous gristle. You will also require one large terrine dish, measuring 28cm long by 11cm wide (at the top) by 8cm deep – number 28 in Le Creuset parlance. (A second terrine dish the same size is also useful but not essential for the weighting process – see later.) Also, a baking tin in which the terrine will sit comfortably, ideally about the same depth as the terrine dish. A large china mixing bowl is also a must.
Make sure the white wine you use is of the good dry kind (Chablis or a dry Riesling is ideal). The chopping process will take up to an hour, so open the bottle at the beginning and taste it often as you work if this helps to lessen the ennui.
Sweat the onion, garlic and whole bay leaves in the butter in a medium pan – 10 gentle minutes should do it. Take off the heat and reserve. Start chopping the meat. The fillet is a tender cut and can, therefore, be chopped into big (1cm) cubes – add to the bowl. The shoulder and belly will need chopping much more finely – you are aiming for dice of approximately 2–3mm here. This will take some time and it will be obvious when you come across any gristle, as it will be impervious to the knife’s pressure – discard it when you do. You may feel that the proportion of fat to lean meat is high, but this is as it should be. Lastly, chop the liver finely and add to the mixture. When the fillet, belly, shoulder and liver have been chopped and added to the bowl, you may need to take a breather and a slurp of wine. Set the oven to 130°C.
Remove the bay leaves from the onion and keep to one side. Add the cooked onion and garlic to the meat, together with the wine, sage, thyme and a generous grating of nutmeg. At this stage, wash your hands thoroughly and mix the whole lot using your hands. Wash and dry your hands again and season the mix well with sea salt and pepper. This seasoning process is essential. Take a small, flattened, walnut-sized piece of the mixture and fry gently in a little butter in a small non-stick pan. Leave it to cool and then taste. Adjust