I read a story in the paper about a labrador shut in a kitchen who devoured the entire Christmas dinner. Sometimes I wonder if I share genetic material with labradors. Loyal to people who deserve a bite on the ankle. Keen on water. Incurably greedy. I thought of this as I stood in my kitchen breaking a gorgeously succulent and crisp slab of crackling into pieces. The dinner guests were waiting, but they had lots of wine, roast potatoes and spinach. Would anyone notice if I scoffed the lot? Sadly, yes. I blame Boathouse Organics. They sold me such divine pork at the Farmers’ Market that I get slobbery chops thinking about it. I bought 2kg of loin, asking for it to be partially boned and skin scored (with genius efficiency using a Stanley knife). That quantity of meat should feed eight people, but four of us got through most of it. Taking inspiration from the Moro cookbook (Southern Spanish/Moroccan), I rubbed the pork flesh with a paste of crushed fennel seeds, salt, garlic and fresh thyme, then generously sprinkled salt on the skin. After about half an hour, I brushed off most of the salt, wiped the skin dry and put the meat in a very hot oven (220c), turning it down 30 mins later to 180c for a further 1 hour 20 mins. Putting the meat aside to rest, I poured fat out of the tin and stirred the remaining crusty bits round with some Pedro Ximenez (sweet) sherry, sherry vinegar, salt, pepper and two fresh bay leaves, leaving to simmer until the meat was ready to carve. Which a labrador couldn’t do. No opposable thumbs. The pork was luscious. Meltingly tender and packed with flavour.