Pig Blogging (Day One)

by afew
Thu Feb 3rd, 2011 at 03:58:43 PM EST

[Disclaimer 1: No offence is meant to those who don't eat pork, or any meat at all, for whatever reason.]

[Disclaimer 2: this description is from memories of days gone by, using old photographs. Nowadays the law obliges you to have the animal slaughtered at the abattoir, which of course everyone does.]

It begins on a cold morning, with death. That of a large hog, followed some time later by that of a second. Death by a bullet in the brain (entrance point, the intersection of two lines from the base of each ear to the opposite eye) is instantaneous. The animal is quickly hoisted by its hind legs (this involves the use of a tractor with a forklift) and bled. The knife must go in just above the sternum at a precise spot that they call the buttonhole. At least part of the blood is collected in a basin and whipped with vinegar to prevent it from clotting. All this might in some gruesome way suggest the Crucifixion and form the basis for an artistic concept coining more money than the use of the pig for food, but in fact it's tense, there's a lot to be done, and it's too ugly to show here even if I'd been able to take photos.

The hog is weighed with a steelyard. 205 kg (the second weighs in at slightly less). Then - no time to waste - it is lowered into a large trough and soused in very hot water, from 82°C to the upper eighties, depending on how cold the weather is. It has to be turned in the water, or parts will get cooked while others stay cold. This calls for muscle and a particular knack:

Again, quickly, as soon as it has soused enough, it is scraped. As many people as can without getting in each other's way scrape off the epidermis and the bristles, using scrapers made from pieces of an old scythe (blunted, they mustn't be razor-sharp).


Piggies look much cleaner after a haircut. "Have you seen the little piggies..?"


The pig is then hoisted up, opened down the belly (details on demand), and the liver, lights, guts, etc, slid into a large basket. At this point a sacred dance is held while a shaman reads the auspices, which he refuses to communicate. The basket goes away to be sorted. The liver is set aside for paté. Other choice morsels will go into black pudding or brawn.


This is what the brawn, or head cheese, looks like when finished

The guts are then cleaned and prepared (mostly by the tribeswomen, who do communicate, along gender war lines). The small intestine needs keeping in metre-or-more lengths, turned inside out and filled with water several times, then scraped with the side of a spoon till transparent. The large intestine, similarly washed and scraped, will be cut into shorter lengths. When the guts are ready, they are placed in water with salt and vinegar or hooch.

Yes, you can avoid doing this by having Asian ladies do it for you. But bought sausage casings are expensive, the ones from the pig are fresh and more likely to be elastic and unholed.

Meanwhile, the head of the hog is sliced off with the neck. The only part of the head to throw away is the mouth with the teeth, after having set the tongue aside. The ears are cut off. The head is cut down to several pieces using a saw. All the parts are carefully cleaned. They will then be put to simmer in a cauldron with carrots, leeks, a clove-spiced onion, a branch of bay - along with the tongue, heart, spleen, and lights.


The tubes going over the edge on the far side are the tracheae which serve to evacuate the goo the lungs secrete while cooking. Without them, don't use the lights, make the cats happy.

Here's a second cauldron with smaller pieces and lemons:

It's hard to settle on a cooking time: the big pieces on the bone take, say, two and a half hours, while the smaller bits need only an hour or less. The point is to avoid everything just turning to mush.

Once cooked, the flesh, fat, and rind are cut up small (this is a knife job) and sorted into what goes into black pudding (blood sausage) and what into brawn. Don't ask me, everyone has their own idea. The lemons (if you want them) go into black pudding. Some of the carrots, on the other hand, will be chopped into the brawn. If I can get my way, the ears go into the black pudding, they make crunchy bits. And, of course, the blood that was kept earlier goes into the black pudding mix.


They don't call it black for nothing

This mixture is stuffed into small-intestine casings using a hand-powered machine, and here's some of the result:

Meanwhile, in the cauldron, the stock that was made with vegetables and the head pieces has been kept on the boil. The heat is now turned off and the blood sausages lowered gently into the hot liquid.


Then left to poach slowly in the stock.

Black pudding/blood sausage/boudin noir isn't a preserve, it's usually eaten fresh, handed out to friends and neighbours as a treat to mark the fact that you've "fait le cochon". You can deep-freeze it, but I've always found it loses flavour. A better way is to use preserve jars, so some of the mixture is canned in that way. At the same time the brawn (or head cheese) is also put into jars with some of the stock. The jars of boudin and brawn are put into a boiler and the gas lit.

Two or three hours later, the stock in the cauldron has gone lukewarm. By that time the boudin noir is cooked. Lift out and coil flat on a table, leave to cool during the night.

Turn off the gas under the boiler. Go to bed. Tomorrow will be a long, hard day.

END OF DAY ONE

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Photos taken when possible, which wasn't always.
by afew (afew(a in a circle)eurotrib_dot_com) on Thu Feb 3rd, 2011 at 04:07:51 PM EST
Mmmm, looks scrummy.

Actually I'm very jealous, I'd love to be involved in hands-on agriculture but it's not available here in suburbia.

keep to the Fen Causeway

by Helen (lareinagal at yahoo dot co dot uk) on Thu Feb 3rd, 2011 at 04:40:58 PM EST

Thanks for putting us back in touch (well, intellectually) with the reality of meat-consumption behind the neatly wrapped plastic packs which is as close as most of us come these days. Sweet dreams :-)

Maybe it's because I'm a Londoner - that I moved to Nice. Blog - Nice Experience

by Ted Welch (tedwelch-at-mac-dot-com) on Thu Feb 3rd, 2011 at 05:36:00 PM EST
The bald pig is rather disturbing. But clearly it had to be done for the greater good.

Ad astra per aspera
by In Wales (inwales aaat eurotrib.com) on Thu Feb 3rd, 2011 at 05:38:06 PM EST
Yes, piggies getting haircuts is for the greater good.
by afew (afew(a in a circle)eurotrib_dot_com) on Fri Feb 4th, 2011 at 01:19:10 AM EST
[ Parent ]

"No offence is meant to those who don't eat pork, or any meat at all, for whatever reason."

It shouldn't be necessary to say this. There's too much of the "This offends me so it shouldn't be allowed" attitude - (particularly from the religious).

If anyone's "offended" it's their problem. They're quite entitled to be offensively robust in their response (if they insist on reading it), but not to suggest it shouldn't have been published. Reality is diverse, complicated and cannot be adapted so that nobody is offended. Nobody is obliged to read your pig blog, clearly enough labelled.

Maybe it's because I'm a Londoner - that I moved to Nice. Blog - Nice Experience

by Ted Welch (tedwelch-at-mac-dot-com) on Thu Feb 3rd, 2011 at 05:45:34 PM EST
Quite right, it isn't necessary. It's also, however, just a bit tongue in cheek (de cochon).
by afew (afew(a in a circle)eurotrib_dot_com) on Fri Feb 4th, 2011 at 01:14:31 AM EST
[ Parent ]

Ah, too subtle for me - in text :-)

Maybe it's because I'm a Londoner - that I moved to Nice. Blog - Nice Experience

by Ted Welch (tedwelch-at-mac-dot-com) on Fri Feb 4th, 2011 at 04:55:58 AM EST
[ Parent ]
What about ye old rind, i.e. chicharron? My favorite, pre-arteriosclerosis snack.

I can swear there ain't no heaven but I pray there ain't no hell. _ Blood Sweat & Tears
by Gringo (stargazing camel at aoldotcom) on Thu Feb 3rd, 2011 at 10:17:54 PM EST
Comes in for a lot of work on Day Two. Stay tuned.
by afew (afew(a in a circle)eurotrib_dot_com) on Fri Feb 4th, 2011 at 01:15:04 AM EST
[ Parent ]
I am almost ashamed to say, was in a documentary.

I hasten to add that the documentary was by the great Jean Eustache, encountered in a ciné-club weekend, presented by distinguished critic Jean Doucet of Cahiers du Cinéma magazine...

The late lamented ciné-club phenomenon would be worthy of an anthro-documentary in its own right. Probably already been done.

It is rightly acknowledged that people of faith have no monopoly of virtue - Queen Elizabeth II

by eurogreen on Fri Feb 4th, 2011 at 06:45:44 AM EST
Wow, thanks a million for the ref, I've been looking for it (wondered if I could find it on a video site to embed here). I saw it on TV many years ago. I thought it was by Jean-Michel Barjol (but he and Eustache were friends, they may have been together on this).

Fabulous documentary.

by afew (afew(a in a circle)eurotrib_dot_com) on Fri Feb 4th, 2011 at 11:27:05 AM EST
[ Parent ]
MY mother used to make black pudding so black, even the white bits 're black.

Lovely diary, thanks.

by njh on Sun Feb 6th, 2011 at 07:48:17 PM EST


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