Where is pulled pork from

God help them if they ever try to enter the United States. Anyway, blasphemy aside, it's actually an excellent alternative to shoulder — not quite as meaty, but far quicker to cook, beautifully easy to pull and not as greasy as I'd feared. So, if belly's all you can find, you could do an awful lot worse. Just don't tell the good ol' boys. Like anything to do with barbecue, pulled pork comes liberally sauced with division and contradiction — some swear by brining or rubbing the meat before cooking, for others, its integrity is sacrosanct.

Rankin falls into the latter camp — the pork stands alone until it's been in the oven for six hours, and frankly, it's so beautifully juicy I'm seriously considering giving up on my quest and just cooking five more in exactly the same way and throwing a pork party, but in the interests of research, I press on. Bompas and Parr lightly rub their pork belly joint in a cure of equal parts sugar and salt and leave it to cure in the fridge for a few hours before cooking.

This draws off a quite considerable amount of moisture, which I'm not sure is entirely desirable here — pork belly has enough fat that it's in no danger of being dry, but the meat itself is slightly stringy, despite its superlative flavour.

America's Test Kitchen brines the pork butt in a mixture of salt, sugar and liquid smoke — one of those ingredients scorned by real barbecue aficionados, but which certainly does the trick at providing that elusive whiff of charred wood. My testers are all fooled, and it's undeniable that, without a barbecue to hand, this potion does indeed give the pork a gorgeous deep, smoky tang, although I'm not convinced the meat itself is any juicier after its bath.

Both Wass and Alan Paton, award-winning head chef at Essex's Stoke-by-Nayland hotel, pour a North Carolina-style "vinegar mop" or sauce over the top of the meat before cooking. I like Paton's cider vinegar, dark brown sugar, salt and chilli sauce in particular, but, after eating a decade's worth of pulled pork in a week, I feel qualified to suggest it's better to add it to taste, rather than baking the tangy flavour into the meat itself — it makes the contrast between the rich pork and the piquant dressing more satisfying.

I don't have much success with cooking the pork at a straight C as Wass suggests: indeed, it resists all efforts to pull it apart after the specified 2 hours.

The heat needs to come down if it's going to fall off the bone, but, then, of course, the all-important browning flavours are sacrificed. A successful compromise, then is an initial blast of heat to brown the fat, followed by long, slow cooking — Paton and Rankin have the right idea. All right, so I have to stay up until 1am waiting for the thermometer to reach the specified 89C, but the results are well worth it — and I'm not allowed to scoff it straight away in any case, so all I lose out on is sleep.

In fact, after pulling and seasoning the pork, it has to rest for a day in the fridge, to "relax and soak up the juices and flavour" before reheating. The experiment is a success — by the time I serve it up, it's greedily absorbed all the cooking liquid, adding considerably to its deliciousness.

A good tip I get from a very helpful amateur barbecue enthusiast by the name of Jonathan Dale is to "'tent' the pork in foil at the end as it rests, as this helps steam and soften it a bit, to help ensure it pulls". I'm torn here. The purists — the Bompas and Parrs and Rankins of this world — insist that, whenever you chose to do it, pulled pork should be seasoned only with sugar and salt.

Things in the other camp can get bewildering: Wass rubs her pork with wholegrain mustard and chilli; America's Test Kitchen applies "yellow mustard", liquid smoke, pepper, smoked paprika and cayenne pepper; Jonathan Dale uses what he describes as a US-style barbecue rub involving smoked paprika, fennel, cumin, black pepper, cayenne, mustard powder, brown sugar, salt and garlic granules.

Dijon mustard. Worcestershire sauce. Buns, for serving. This ingredient shopping module is created and maintained by a third party, and imported onto this page. You may be able to find more information about this and similar content on their web site.

Trim excess fat from pork and cut into large pieces to fit in a large Dutch oven. In a small bowl, combine brown sugar, salt, paprika, garlic powder, onion powder, and cumin, then season with black pepper. Rub all over pork. This can be done the night before. In a large Dutch oven over medium high heat, heat oil.

Working in batches, add pork and sear on all sides. Pour beer around pork and cover with lid. Transfer to oven and cook until pork is beginning to turn tender, about 3 hours. Remove lid and cook until pork is very tender and pulls apart easily with a fork, 1 to 2 hours more.

Remove pork from Dutch oven and let rest while you prepare barbecue sauce. Make barbecue sauce: To the pan drippings in the Dutch oven, whisk in ketchup, apple cider vinegar, mustard, brown sugar and Worcestershire. Over medium-high heat, bring mixture to a boil. Reduce heat, and simmer until thickened slightly, about 5 minutes. Shred pork using two forks. Toss shredded meat with about half the barbecue sauce.

Serve warm with buns and more barbecue sauce. You may be able to find the same content in another format, or you may be able to find more information, at their web site.

This content is created and maintained by a third party, and imported onto this page to help users provide their email addresses. One quickly realizes that between mass-market cookbooks and early Internet message boards, an entire generation of aspiring pitmasters were learning to cook barbecue not from their grandfathers or neighbors but from a crowd of mentors from all over the country.

This phenomenon more than any other, I suspect, is why the 21st century has witnessed the flourishing of brisket cooking in places like Charlotte and of pork pulling out in Kansas City. Now, if you want to barbecue a Boston butt and pull it into chunks and strands instead of chopping it with a cleaver, have at it. By Robert Moss January 22, Save FB Tweet More. Gates Bar-B-Q Plate. Credit: Robert Moss. Credit: Laurey W.