Pork & Green Peppercorn Pâté

Making your own pâté sounds cheffy but it's actually no fiddlier than typing the word. Two accents in four letters, FFS. I'm a clumsy two-finger typist, so I'll refer to it as terrine from here on. Pedants will nit-pick but the two terms are pretty much interchangeable in this context.

Terrine was never intended to be a fancy dish. In fact, it's an exemplar of resourceful cooking; The French developed the technique as a thrifty means of using up and preserving leftover bits of pork, chicken, duck or game. So, if you were questioning its credentials as a leftover recipe, you can va te faire foutre.

Depending on the local tradition, the French will chuck in everything from the tail to the tongue. I love the combination of pork belly, pork liver and back-fat, but if you're feeling a little more adventurous, kidney and heart add an earthy depth of flavour. You don't have to tell your guests if they're squeamish. It's all "pork" after all.

With terrine, the vibe is more important than the recipe. If you want to add different herbs, aromatics or booze, that's fine. I doesn't need to be exclusively pork either. Duck and chicken work well. Most butchers will have pork liver, but if you can't find it, chicken livers will do. But before you get too loosey-goosey with the recipe, the fat-to-meat ratio is quite important to keep the terrine bouncy and moist, as is the salt. Otherwise, feel free to play.

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Fascinating Historical Interlude

The word pâté comes from the Latin 'pasta' which means paste or dough because back in the day, it would be baked in pastry. The thick crust becoming edible packaging, protecting the pork from the elements and extending its shelf life. Now we have airtight jars, refrigerators and vacuum sealing, the pastry's not necesary. Fancy French folks still bake pâté in pastry and call it pâté en croute, which given the etymology of the word pâté, means pastry in pastry.

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The wonderfull thing about terrine/pâté cooked in the way I'm about to describe, is the amazing shelf life. Providing your seals aren't compromised, an unopened jar will last for months. If you don't trust your jars and seals, the cooked product will survive a few months in the freezer. The texture is a little less bouncy after defrosting, but it's still delicious. Even better, you can freeze the raw mixture in jars until you're ready to cook them. Just make sure they're defrosted before cooking.

Ingredients

500g pork liver

500g minced pork

1kg fatty pork belly

300g pork back-fat

2 cloves garlic, grated on a microplane or very finely chopped

1 tbsp dried thyme

1 onion, diced and gently fried in butter until translucent

75ml brandy

2 tbsp green peppercorns

4 tsp table salt

1 tsp ground white pepper

1 tsp mixed spice

Plus eight 300ml jars with lids.

And eight bay leaves - one per jar.

Method

Finely dice the pork belly, liver and back-fat. Some people prefer a finer texture, some coarser. I aim for half-centimetre cubes. Dicing by hand will take time but it gives you a satisfying uniformity in the finished product. Take 2 minutes to sharpen your knife before you get started - it'll save you much mess and frustration.

If you have a powerful food processor, you can roughly dice the meat, liver and fat by hand and give it all an extra blast in the food processor to achieve a finer texture. But do it in small batches or you'll cook the motor.

In a large mixing bowl, combine the pork, liver and fat with the other ingredients except the bay leaves.

Give it a really good mix and leave the flavours to develop in the fridge overnight. You don't absolutely have to do the overnight thing if you can't be bothered. I've never done a side-by-side comparison of an overnight batch and a 'can't be bothered' batch, so I can't honestly tell you how much difference it'll make.

Sterilise your jars.

Spoon the terrine mixture into the jars, pushing everything down and squishing out air bubbles. Tightly screw on the lids.

Line your largest cooking pots with scrunched-up tea towels so the jars aren't in direct contact with the metal of the pot.

Arrange the jars on top of the towels. Now pour in boiling water until it reaches two thirds of the way up the sides of the jars.

Bring the water to a simmer and cover with a lid. Simmer for 45 mins. You'll know when the mixture is cooked because it will have shrunk away from the sides of the jar and be surrounded by juices.

Turn off the heat and let the jars come to room temperature in the pot. Now refrigerate for at least 24 hours before serving.

Serve with fresh crusty bread, a cornichon or two, and a glass of crisp white wine. Mwah.