Good Food Blog
Preparing a whole pig
Posted at 11:42AM, 15 January 2008 by Mary Cadogan - food writer
I was dreading yesterday. Friends Claudine and Marcel had invested in a half share of a pig and I offered to help prepare it. The pig in question weighed in at a hefty 146kg and had been raised on the farm on a diet of cereals and scraps for 12 months.
It was a three-day event, the first day was the despatching of the pig and the making of the boudin noir. I turned up on day two, the main preparation day. As I drove across the fog-bound landscape I imagined arriving to be confronted by nasty smells and cruel practices, blood dripping from ultra sharp knives, pale shocked faces (mine in particular.) The dense fog over the countryside didn't help, as we drove gingerly to our rendezvous. Of course what greeted me could not have been more different from my wild imaginings...
The farmhouse kitchen smelled sweet and spicy, with a slightly smoky edge from the vine trimmings crackling in the old stone fireplace. Everyone was working together, sharing jokes and recipes and having a rare old time. I started as an observer but soon got stuck into mincing fat that was destined for the huge cast iron pot along with bones and trimmings not needed elsewhere. This bubbled away all day in the fireplace, then strained to make saindoux (lard) - used in cooking, frying and for making sublime pastry. The shreds of meat that are left in the bottom of the pot are then packed into jars and sterilised. This is called grillon. Any larger pieces of meat found in the pot are sprinkled with épices Rabelais, a spice mix used in France for charcuterie since 1880, then left to get cold before scoffing (a pig preparer's perk).
Meanwhile Christophe the farmer-turned-butcher prepared the roasting joints, the one running the length of the beast was a metre long. Some of this was tied and prepared for the freezer, some used for confit of pork. Nothing is wasted. The only parts of the pig not eaten are the bones and teeth (and squeak). Fattier pieces are minced with the liver to make pâtés and terrines, bones and odd chunks of meat that can not be used elsewhere are cooked for several hours in a huge pot with garlic, spices, shallots and water. The meat is then forked from the bones and packed into jars to make rillettes, which are brilliant on toast.
Of course everything stopped for lunch in the farmhouse kitchen and naturally this involved porky things. Pâté to start, followed by fried pork steaks and boudin noir, all washed down with pineau and wine made on the farm. The soft, slightly spicy boudins were the size of bangers and cooked whole in the pan. I liked them alright, but will be staying loyal to the Clonakilty black pudding I have known and loved since childhood.
By the end of the day we had enough meat, pâté and other good things to see us through the hardest of winters, all very satisfying. Next year I'll be buying my own half pig but I'll need an industrial sized freezer first.
Comments
Your binder
Save your favourite recipes; add, rate and comment on recipes. Plus, get our newsletter.
Your binder
Here are three other great reasons to sign up:
- You get an online binder, where you can store all your favourite recipes and create menus.
Search Good Food
Recent Posts
Flag as inappropriate
Please let us know your name and the reason you find the above comment inappropriate.
Flag as inappropriate
Please let us know your name and the reason you find the above comment inappropriate.
Flag as inappropriate
Please let us know your name and the reason you find the above comment inappropriate.
Flag as inappropriate
Please let us know your name and the reason you find the above comment inappropriate.