A Melton Mowbray pork pie is pork, wrapped in pork fat, sealed with pork jelly. It was built to survive a day in the coat pocket of a man on a galloping horse. The pastry is like no other. You boil water with a block of lard until it melts, pour it hot into the flour, and work it while it is still warm. The result can be raised by hand into a tall case that will stand up on its own. It bakes as hard as a tin. The filling is fresh pork, chopped with a knife, with nothing added but salt and pepper. It cooks grey, the colour of a roast, and a real one is never pink. Then comes the clever part. As the meat cooks it shrinks away from the crust and leaves a gap. So when the pie comes out of the oven, hot stock made from boiled trotters is poured in through a hole in the lid. It sets into a jelly that fills every space and shuts out the air. That is what makes the pie keep. It was the food of the hunting field. The grooms and riders of Leicestershire needed something that would not fall apart at a fence, and from the 1830s Melton was sending them to London by stagecoach. And the pork was there for a reason. The same countryside makes Stilton. Cheesemaking leaves gallons of whey, and whey fattens pigs. The cheese fed the pig, and the pig became the pie. The recipe has been protected by law since 2009. Every part of it breaks a modern rule. It is also a complete meal you can eat with one hand, that needs no fridge and no packaging, and they solved it 200 years ago with a pig.