Slow, slow, quick quick, slow

I was unwell in January and had previously been given, as a present, a butchery course at Ginger Pig in Marylebone. I went, despite not feeling great, and was so very glad that I did. The evening was a pork butchery course in 4 or so hours. We had the opportunity, as a group to dis-assemble a half pig and then we each boned and tied our own Spare Rib Joint for taking home and roasting.
Predictably the pork was of the highest quality and the instruction from two Master Butchers. The evening finished with us tucking into a cooked joint of pork served with dauphinoise potatoes (followed by bread and butter pudding). We all went home with a huge lump of pig and a little more knowledge - it really was a super evening.
The way we prepared the meat was to take the skin off and score it cover the meat in sliced garlic and ground fennel seeds. The joint was then rolled with the skin back on and tied (using special butchers knots - I could tell you how but then I'd have to kill you) ready for roasting.FYI the piece of meat I brought home was 2.8 kilos and kept us in food for almost a week.
Yesterday I did a similar thing with a little piece of belly pork and it was wonderful. The Beautiful Wife summed it up when she said "It just makes the pork seem more porky". So here's the slow roast recipe.

Ginger Pig Pork

A piece of belly pork (no bones, skin taken off and reserved)
Ground fennel seeds
Finely sliced garlic
Salt and pepper

Cover one side of the pork with fennel and garlic, season well and poll with the flavourings on the inside. Place more of the fennel and garlic on the underside of the skin and wrap it round the roll of pork. Tie the joint and roast until the juices run clear (this will take slightly longer than you would think). Allow to rest before serving either as a Sunday roast or with dauphinoise potatoes.

This evening we had the closest I get to fast food. We had pasta pesto. The pasta was Benedetto Cavalieri from the very tip of the heal of Italy. I often buy this at Umberto's in Thame for people who insist that all dried pastas are the same. It really shows that pasta is not just a bland starch but has a flavour of its own and can have a texture which is quite delicious. The sauce was Umberto's fresh Pesto. Once you start eating real fresh pesto you will be spoiled forever - you will walk past the jars in the supermarket with a slightly snooty air about you.