Actually the herbs were only a good few pinches of fennel seeds mixed with some more salt and crushed to a powder in the pestle and mortar. Garlic was then added and loosened slightly with with touch of olive oil. This mixture was then rubbed into the underneath of the pork belly with my fingers as the oven was put on to its highest setting. This required some negotiation as a dish of vegetarian lasagna was warming up for the rest of the family’s tea. With some slight of hand the lasagna was extracted out of the oven for twenty minutes as the pork belly went in at a sufficiently high heat to start blistering the skin and bring on the crackling.

Once the skin had started to blister the oven was turned down (and the lasagna returned) and the pork moved onto a more benign metal plate to be finished off. Ideally it should have had another two hours in a very slow oven. Time to cook completely through with the meat falling off the bones, no burning, and a crisp crunchy skin.

We didn’t have that time and compromised with the oven turned too high and hoping for the best over an hour. Ten minutes before eating I took the pork out and put it on a serving dish covered with some foil and a tea towel. Potatoes were boiled, quartered and fried and a gravy was made with a good splash of sherry into the pan. The bones slipped away from the meat and plates were cleaned.

We were still listening to Mark Eitzel.

The mushrooms were cut from the log whilst a large pan of water started to boil. I took my new frying pan and melted a small pat of butter to which I added a finely chopped onion. That was given five minutes and the odd stir through to soften before I added a squashed, chopped clove of garlic.

Once the water was boiling I started to cook. A bag of tagliatelle and more was put into the boiling water. I turned up the heat under the pan with the onions, chopped up the mushrooms and stirred them in and gave them a few minutes to wilt before throwing in a good glass of white wine. That bubbled for another few minutes whilst I grated a good couple of handfuls of Parmesan.

Grating done I poured in a tub of double cream and drained the pasta. Once the pasta had been drained and shaken it went into a clean white bowl. Before I poured over the sauce I stirred in the Parmesan, some chopped parsley and plenty of salt and pepper. The kids turned their noses up at the mention of mushrooms but all their plates were clean.

This evening we listened to the bitter sweet ruminations of Mark Eitzel. All in preparation for doing battle with Plan B.

After last nights meat extravaganza it seems only right that a bit of time should be spent today in making a vegetarian supper. Galen complained on Friday that when we eat meat there is always a vegetarian alternative but if the cooking is vegetarian then there is no meat to be had. He was eating an aubergine and mozzarella bake whilst I had made myself a fried chicken baguette to gird my loins before an evening watching Macbeth at The Royal Court. He sort of had a point if only because the vegetarian alternatives are often no more than a couple of spicy bean burgers from the freezer cabinet in Sainsbury’s.

Today I made more of an effort. Some of you may have noticed the horseradish root lurking in a picture last weekend. There is now a patch in the garden that is in danger of getting out of control. Last year all we had out of it were a couple of thin tubers not much more than half an inch wide but I must have left something in the ground. We now have a wide splay of thick green leaves and furtling under the soil there are obviously a few good sized roots. I will have to dig them out come the end of autumn but in the meantime I have the cooking of this years harvest.

A good 40 minutes were spent going through the books on Saturday morning and I was surprised and disappointed by how little there seemed that could be done with them. There were a few suggestions for mixing it with beetroot but little that made it part of the main attraction.

Eventually I was pointed towards a recipe in a book by Annie Bell Evergreen bought years ago after a lunch in The Good Things Cafe. Bought because she wrote (or co-wrote) one our most used books Living and Eating.  She wrote it with John Pawson the architect and the pictures and a large part of the text sketch out a way of living that is well beyond most of us. But the recipes work, and the pictures of the food make it look good, although she is responsible for the notion that my fish pie should be made with cider resulting in my white sauce splitting. The book has the added attraction of featuring my brother in law’s best man, Oscar, lounging on a lawn in one of its pictures.

Back to Evergreen  the recipe was for a Potato and Onion Tart with Horseradish Cream. It was another of those recipes that require the cooking of its constituent  parts before the whole was put together.

There were three parts to it. I started with the onions, two large Spanish ones from the grocers on Oxton Road, sliced thinly and cook down slowly for an hour or so in butter.

Then the potatoes, peeled, boiled for ten minutes, browned in more butter and sliced into rounds. The horseradish was peeled and grated and mixed with creme fraiche. Puff pastry was rolled out and put in a pie tin and cooked for twenty minutes then the whole thing was put together.

The onions were spread over the base of the pastry, the slices of potato were then laid out on top and the creamed horseradish was then spread on top. It all went back in the oven to cook and to brown together with the roast chicken the rest of the family were having.

Today we have been listening to Mark Mulcahy. He has a new album out soon and is playing in Manchester in early December. We should all have a bit of him in our lives.

The plates were cleared and replaced and the suckling pig was brought out on its platter. Anna was called up to start slicing it up by taking off its head with the edge of of a side plate. It was then carved and passed round the table.

I had a rear leg in front of me, soft forgiving meat and a think tight layer of crackling. The head was passed round the table for all to pick at. We pulled out its cheeks, and chewed on its ears.

The was a large platter of vegetable paella for the vegetarians.

We were eating it for almost an hour. Most of us gave up on knives and forks and tucked in with our fingers, the bones fell away easily from the flesh. Peter had recommended the brain and we were able to scoop it out in small mouthfuls with our forks. It was creamy and smooth and its texture and taste reminded me of the coral from a lobster.

We ate almost all of it apart from its squeak.

The adults were too full for anything else apart from a small plate of cheese and restorative glass of pacharin on ice.

The kids had cups of hot chocolate with churros.

The music was a young man playing Spanish guitar on the balcony.