We got our half hog from Taylor-Made Farms a few weeks back, about 85lbs of pork. It’s maybe the best thing I’ve ever eaten in my life. So far I’ve used ground pork for meat sauce, served bacon a bunch of times, and made a roast. The roast? Oh my god. I used the Braised Pork Shoulder with Dried Chilis recipe from The Art of Simple Food. So, so good. In fact, so good that now I’m planning to grow hot peppers next year so I can dry my own. (Because dried chilis? Damn spendy, yeah?) Growing peppers in Portland is something of an effort–they’ll probably have to be cloched all summer, at least at night–but it’ll be worth it. We should be getting our 1/4-steer share in the next week or so, and I’m sure that will be just as good.
It’s working out well, this buying our meat in bulk. Or on the hoof. Or however you want to say it. We’re getting clean, sustainably and humanely raised, pastured meat at a very good price from a family farm. The farmers, Dustin and Lisalyn, have been wonderful to work with and they deliver (!). But there’s another benefit to it, one I didn’t anticipate.
Gratitude. That is, direct gratitude toward a specific being rather than the hazy, generalized gratitude toward any number of animals who died to feed us and who knows how many others in a year.
This year, all the pork we eat at home (which pretty much means all the pork we will eat) will come from just one pig. This pig got to live the way pigs are meant to live–free to amble about and root around. And then that pig died because we asked the farmer to kill it for us so we could feed our family. I remember this each time I unwrap a cut, each time I cook it, and especially when I sit down to eat it. I’m much more comfortable in my newly reclaimed place as an animal at the top of the food chain now that I can take direct responsibility for the death of the animals I am eating and feeding to my family.
So thank you, Pig. I hope your life was happy–whatever that might mean for a pig. You are delicious.
Do you have any Hispanic markets near you? I usually find the prices on things like dried chiles to be a lot lower than at the basic supermarket.
This is exactly what I prefer about eating locally–knowing what you’re actually eating. REALLY knowing. I’m also a fan of supporting community businesses, humane treatment of animals, and being connected to the items one eats, whether they be vegetables or meats. Plus, factory farms freak me the $%&* out.
Neat. I can’t bring myself to eat meat, though I eat fish, but if I was going to? This would be the way I would want to do it.
My dad makes an amazing pesto-stuffed pork chop if you’re interested in recipes. They live in Iowa (and an Iowa chop can’t be beat, sorry), so they buy half to whole animals frequently. Over the holidays we’re going to have a blind taste test of various local lambs they’ve purchased.
I know what you mean. The steer in our freezer this year was raised by Ashley, a beautiful young lady about to graduate high school and start working her way through a degree in agriculture; the hog was raised by Cheyenne, who is a bit younger but no less bright-eyed and enthusiastic.
I think of them every time I plan a meal, every time I take one of those packages out of the freezer to defrost. I think of the girls, and the animals themselves, and I feel blessed and humbled. And so very, very grateful.
This is the way to support farms and farmers. Cuts out the middleman and keeps all the profit at the local farm. Corporate America can drop dead if we all just bypass them. Better tasting food without abusing workers on corporate farms and slaughter houses. The risk of mass food poisoning is also reduced and the animals have a healthier happier life. A win all the way around!
Have you been to Limbo? They have a fabulous and inexpensive selection of chiles. I’ve actually had good luck growing them (as well as eggplant) here since I switched to planting them in large pots instead of raised beds. I’m guessing that they really like warm roots, and black, 5-gallon containers are ideal. You could also try putting down that red plastic mulch that is supposed to store warmth and moisture in the soil.
This is sweet. Like a love letter to the pig whose body you’re putting in your body.
The last three words really cracked me up. I’m guessing if you’re a pig, being delicious is a pretty damned high compliment.
This is beautiful. And send me your addy — I’ve got dried chilis from my garden to spare! (garlic too, but I know you’ve got your own garlic)
Happy Thanksgiving, y’all.
Post some pictures, please — my mental imagery is intimidating! How big IS this half hog, and what does it look like when they deliver it? Skin and hoof on? Do-it-yourself butchering? And which half did you get — or was the pig split lengthwise so you’d have a bit of everything? Inquiring supermarket meat-eaters with guilt complexes want to know more… 🙂
Heh. This reminds me of growing up on the farm and having my mother put a plate in front of me, saying, “This was Ferdinand!” of the butchered steer.
You guys need to pay attention to this. It’s coming up for a vote. Call your senator after you read this:
http://www.naturalnews.com/030418_Food_Safety_Modernization_Act_seeds.html