THIS week, we’re taking a trip to Germany. Since learning the language at Greenhead College all those years ago, I have always had a deep love of all things Germanic.

German itself is a terrific language to wrap one’s tongue around, with all those wonderful compound nouns and tongue-twisty sentences. Where would we be without schadenfreude, delicatessen, or the delightful dachshund (one for the pub quizzers - it means badger-dog, as it was, incredibly, originally used for the hunting of said pest).

The Germans invent so many great words, perhaps my most favourite being ‘kümmerspeck’, which translates as ‘grief bacon’, and is used to describe the food we eat when we are upset.

If you’re down in the dumps and eating a whole tub of Ben & Jerry’s and watching ‘Sleepless in Seattle’, then the Germans have a word for it.

The country itself is so striking, from the huddled cities of the industrial north to the vast southern forests. There are dune-like islands which resemble western Scotland, and there are long, serpentine river valleys, crammed with steep vineyards.

Some of the best wines in the world come from these vines; crisp, minerally Rieslings and floral Gewürztraminers that are a million miles away from the flabby Liebfraumilchs and Niersteiners we associated with German wine in the 70s and 80s. Food-wise, Germany has much to offer. Cakes and pastries abound, from lovely cinnamon-filled strudels to elaborate multi-layered gateaux.

At Christmas, the warm, seasonal spices come out and we are treated to rich cakes and biscuits such as stollen and lebkuchen. Lake and river fish are made much use of, especially carp and pike, and there’s lots of game in the forested regions, from wild boar to venison.

Above all else, however, it’s undeniable that in Germany, the pig is king. They eat an almost obscene amount of pork, ham and bacon. They roast it, they fry it, they cure it and they brine it. They make salami and sweet smoked hams. They make dozens of types of sausages, all shapes and sizes.

Nothing, as it should always be, is ever wasted from a pig, the joke being that the only unusable part is the ‘oink’. The pig is revered and treated with respect, and provides the nation with an immense range of things to take home for tea. Germany, it must be said, is also very partial to a bit of stodge, and most regions have variants on the dumpling and the spätzle-type noodle, usually made with potato, flour and a few extra ingredients.

These are great for soaking up rich meaty juices and providing a comforting, appealing texture alongside crunchy-edged grills and roasts. And it’s here that my recipe started, with the remembrance of delicious oversized spätzle-type things, like soft potato-y pillows that once accompanied a marinated roast pork dish I had once near Stuttgart (very similar to a classic sauerbraten, as I recall).

I fancied having a go at slow-cooking some belly pork to accompany these fried potato dumplings, along with some bright green crunchy cabbage, the whole dish a quintessence of German peasant cooking.

The traditional idea of cooking the pork in juniper-infused beer appealed, and I chose a citrussy wheat beer (now available almost everywhere) to add that vaguely spicy, yeasty note to the pork.

I had also just been sent some samples of the most incredible butter by the lovely Alison Abernethy from County Down, Northern Ireland.

This rich handmade all-cream butter is now exported worldwide, and tastes incredible. The smoked version is utterly delicious (it’s terrific on a bacon sandwich), and I thought it would add an extra autumnal dimension to the finished pork dish. Look it up at abernethybuttercompany.com. and try to find a packet to experiment with. And enjoy the porky delights of Germany, such a fabulous place.

FOR THE POTATO KNöDEL:

1kg large Desirée / floury potatoes (3 big ones)

Rock salt for baking

350g plain flour

1 tsp Maldon salt

Pinch of nutmeg

The grated zest of 1 small lemon

2 eggs, beaten

FOR THE PORK:

1-1.5 kg locally-reared pork belly

1.5l Weissbier (wheat beer)

2 chicken stock jelly cubes

6 Cloves

20 juniper berries

4 sticks celery, chopped

3 carrots, chopped

*2 onions, sliced

2 cloves garlic, crushed

FOR THE CABBAGE:

1 large Savoy cabbage, cut into large pieces

EXTRAS:

125g smoked or salted butter

Mouli or potato ricer

METHOD:

First, get the pork going. Heat the oven to 180ºC / Gas 4. Place the vegetables into a suitable casserole dish, and lay the pork belly on top.

Add the chicken jelly and spices and pour in the beer. It should just cover the pork. Pop the lid on, and bake for 3 hours, until the pork is tender.

Remove the pork, and press under weights overnight in a cool place. I use a couple of baking dishes and a stack of heavy cookbooks. Strain the cooking liquid into a pan and reduce until rich and syrupy. Set aside until you’re ready to serve.

Now for the knödel; turn the oven to 190ºC / Gas 5. Wash the potatoes. Dry them well and prick all over, then cover the bottom of a baking tray with a layer of salt and arrange the potatoes on top. Bake for about an hour and a half until completely cooked through. Remove from the oven, and as soon as they’re cool enough to handle, scoop out the fluffy potato flesh.

Scatter 250g of the flour over a clean work surface along with the salt and nutmeg. Work the potato through the mouli on top of the flour, then make a well in the middle and add the beaten eggs. Mix together carefully, adding more flour if necessary, bringing the mixture together into a soft dough.

Flour the surface, divide the dough into manageable lumps and roll out into long sausages about 3cm wide, then cut into long pillow-shaped pieces.

Bring a large pan of salted water to the boil, then turn down to a gentle simmer.

Poach the dumplings in small batches until they rise to the surface, remove with a slotted spoon, and set to one side until the dough is used up.

To serve, turn the oven to 190ºC / Gas 5. Gently heat the beer reduction. Trim the pork, and remove the top-most layer of skin. Score the soft fat, and roast the pork for 20 minutes or so, until golden, sizzling and crispy. In a separate pan, melt the smoked or salted butter and gently fry the knödel until they are golden and puffy.

Quickly cook the cabbage pieces in boiling water, and drain.

Assemble the dish by carving the pork into slices, and serving alongside the potato knödel, a good helping of hot cabbage, and drizzle with some of the smoky butter juices and the porky beer sauce.