Visiting the Pigs - T minus 19 days

Pigs rooting for spent grain.

A lot of home brewers use their spent grain as compost for their vegetable gardens, to bake with, or sometimes, depending where they live, they'll give it away to local farmer to supplement livestock feed.  I texted David and let him know I was planning to come by with a few pounds of spent grain and wanted to feed it to our pigs, if it was okay - he said it was.

His text ended with, "I'd be interested in your thoughts on the weight."

So, off we went to Public House Produce to check on the swine.  I knew I had a treat for them in the moist, sweet, cracked barley that is left after the mash.  They saw me drive up, and moved to the corner of the pasture where I would be coming from.

I walked up greeting them and they barked a little, I think because they realized at last that I wasn't David.  I held my buckets up close to the fence so they could get a whiff - and they were definitely interested.  I wanted to get them around to the other side of the pasture so I could work with the light to take a few photos to share, and they followed me around.

Fine swine.

When I dumped the grain out, they weren't sure about the fast movements I made, so they balked.  Soon enough they figured it out, and there was a smacking good time going on.  The sweets provoked a few tussles as well - so I was careful to dump the second bucket a little farther away and in two batches to give them all some room.

Once I reported back to David that they seemed to enjoy the treat, he asked again about the weight.  I told him I thought 220-230 pounds - these guys are pretty compact and muscular, it seemed to me.

Then he told me that Kevin Bacon is the smallest at 250 pounds (she is second from right in the first photos), and that the durocs (the two brown ones) are topping out at around 300 pounds!

Big pigs!

That's going to make for a tiring first day in a couple of weeks!

They're Omnivores Too, You Know

Sacked out pigs, all tucked in and warm out in the poke.

I was amused recently when a friend sent along a link to a New York Times article that featured Joel Salatin – he of The Omnivore’s Dilemma and Food, Inc. fame – that described his new pork venture.  Mr. Salatin is famous because of his innovative, symbiotic approach to farming, which emphasizes the connections between the land and the animals.  To us city-folk, this is incredible, ground-breaking ag-science, but I suspect that if I were to head out to Page County and engage a friend or two on the topic they’d tell me this was just common sense.

Also, call it ironic or coincidental, I’d received an update on the status of our pigs earlier in the week.  The hogs are growing nicely, and putting about a pound on a week.  David’s had them out in pasture since October (I helped wrangle ‘em, by the way, link here:  http://hawksbillcabin.blogspot.com/search/label/Pig%20Wranglin%27).

So that is the point of my post – pasturing pigs isn’t new, but the popularity of this approach as a contrast to concentrated, industrial operations is.  My pig share is pastured, and I know those swine have a good life out there on the farm.  After three years of this, I’ve learned an element of the respect they deserve is to have a relationship with us – while I wouldn’t go as far as to climb in there and hug them (some do), I do enjoy seeing them in the field and am pretty happy to hear when they’ve been given names.

Incidentally, I’m told the four pigs this year are Kevin Bacon, Lucy, Stevie Yum Yum, and Jim Bacon. I’m not sure if that last one was named after me; if he was, I’m not sure I deserved the honor.  Their time is coming in a month or so, so they’ll continue living the good life out in their field for a little bit longer.

Now, Mr. Salatin’s strategy is to move herds of 50 or so pigs through his pastures and into the hardwood forests that he has retained on his 450 acres in the Shenandoah Valley.  If you want to know more about his methods, he’s got a video you can buy, although you have to get it directly from him – just search on “Polyface Farm” and “pigs.”

The New York Times story didn’t go so far as to talk about how he plans to process those herds of pigs, but for my pig share, I do know how that part of the story goes.  One cold February morning, a team of us will go out to the field and they’ll be dispatched.  Then we’ll haul them to the butchering shed and go to work on the carcasses for two days, emerging with all kinds of chops, roasts, sausage, ham, and bacon. 

That’ll be a fulfilling weekend, I don’t mind saying. 

Checking in - with Pigs

Part of the plan this weekend was to stop by and have a look at how the pigs were doing over at Public House Produce.  David told me they were gaining nicely out in that pasture he'd set up for them, so I had to take a look for myself. Even Kevin Bacon, the little white shouldered gilt who'd been substantially behind the others, is filling out; David estimates they're all around 175 to 200 pounds now.

They do seem to like being out in this field (we moved them here in October, check out the link at the end of this post for the story).  I was able to get some video of them after they'd followed me down the fence line.  Then they saw Mary with the goats in the distance and went running and barking off to see what was going on by the shed.



I need to get back in touch with Chris so we can plan what we're going to do with our shares this year.  Mary has one of these nice standing blenders (Chris does also), and I understand there is a sausage making accessory that we could get so I don't spend time at the butchering shed on this part of the process.  That would offer a lot of flexibility for trying out new recipes as well.

I think I'll get back out to check in with the pigs later in the month, then once or twice in January.  Come the end of the month though - well, time's up for pigs then.

http://hawksbillcabin.blogspot.com/search/label/Pig%20Wranglin%27

Pig Wranglin' - Part 3

With one pig moved using the “goat halter” method, we stopped to regroup.  This method didn’t meet up to expectations on several accounts – for one thing, the pig squealing had upset and exhausted all the on-lookers, and for another, David’s shoe was full of…how shall I put it…ordure du cochon -

All was suddenly as I feared, and we were going to have to move on to Plan C:

“Chase down and catch the pigs one by one, and then carry them the 200 yards or so...”

Queue Flatt and Scruggs-

We went back to the barnyard, where the pigs had gone back into the chicken coop and were resting from all the excitement.  David remembered that he had an old training crate for his dogs, so we thought about how we might coax the animals into it one by one and transport them that way.  So the first thought was to see if we couldn’t just open the door to the chicken coop and let one of them out into the crate.

We tried it – but the pigs didn’t cooperate.  They knew by now that we were after them and they just looked at the open door, seeing that we had set a trap for them.  Then they just milled around the coop, eventually settling down in the straw to wait for us to go away.

Our next big idea was to move them back to the goat stall, and see if we couldn’t corral them from there.  Same technique for moving them – that worked, and now we had the three pigs back where we wanted them.

I carefully positioned the crate in front of the gate, and we opened it just slightly, so that unless the pigs took a flying leap they’d have nowhere to go except for inside.  Then David went around behind the pigs to rustle them up.  One came over to check out the crate.

David swooped in and caught the pig’s two back trotters, lifting them off the ground, and proceeded to try and push the pig into the crate wheelbarrow-style.  Once the pigs head was safely inside, we knew that the body would follow…that’s just how pigs work.

The pig’s head was free and he was choosing every direction but in the crate.  He got his nose under the crate, around the crate, over the crate, and at one point, he had part of himself squeezed between the gate and the crate.  Finally, David decided to snatch him completely off the ground and kind of toss him in – and I snapped the little hatch door closed.

Next step was to move him in the crate, which had taken a beating from all of this and didn’t look like it would survive being carried over.  We decided it might be best to haul the thing - pig and all - over to the new pasture, using the tractor with the bucket attachment.  We loaded him in, and I climbed in beside the crate for the ride.

Taking stock of my situation, you’d never catch me at work riding one of the machines.  But this was different – we were moving the pigs – and sometimes, you just have to go with it.  I hope none of our safety monitors are reading this.

That pig had settled right down as soon as he was in the crate.  I think it even went to sleep for a few minutes during the short drive over to the new pasture, where we unloaded him and then reconnected the electricity to the fence.  He immediately joined his colleague happily grazing and rooting around the fresh ground.

It was time for us to reconsider our approach – this crate method had worked out for us, but the other pigs had learned that once a pig went in, he didn’t come back.  Pigs are smart, you know, and also, these last two were wary. 

We spent another half hour in the barnyard with those two pigs, trying to catch them and move them.  It was a failed effort though – eventually, our thoughts turned to having some cold hard cider.  You know, there is a new cidery in the Valley…

I caught up with David and his brother a few days later at an event.  They told me they had started fresh the next morning, and moved the last two pigs easily – they even got them both into the crate at the same time.  I was happy and proud I could help come up with such an innovative, easy way to wrangle the pigs. 

I went back for eggs the next weekend, driving up slowly to make sure that the Sourses weren’t home this time.  It was all quiet while I made my transaction in the cooler, and then I quietly drove away, unscathed, and not out of my depth this time.

Still, on the way out, I stopped to check out the pigs in the new pasture.  When I walked up to the fence, they came a-running, putting the past behind them, happy to be on the fresh ground doing their piggy things.  They’ve got a few months left now to enjoy themselves.

Pig Wranglin' - Part 2

Three of this year's group.  Lower left is the haltered pig.

We had come up with three ways to move the pigs, but we were already ruling them out, so I was worried we were going to run out of options.  Here are the three plans we’d hatched: 

1. Build a short pathway from the barnyard to the pasture - but we didn't have enough electric fencing to get us all the way there.
2. Use the goat halters to calmly walk the pigs from one place to the other.  This one sounded really good, in theory - at the time, I was not familiar with how readily pigs accept being on a leash.
3. Chase down and catch the pigs one by one, and then carry them the 200 yards or so...the pigs at this stage are only 50 pounds or so, so I agreed that the idea was feasible, but not necessarily practical.

At their present size, the pigs could still get into the chicken coop, and they often slept in there with the chickens roosting above and on them.  It was a quiet and comfortable place for them – and so we decided we might use it as a corral.  We’d simply get them all to go in there and then we would shut the little door so they couldn’t get out.

David trekked around to the barn to find the goat halter and Brett and I wrangled the pigs into the chicken coop.  However, after a few tries in the closed quarters, it looked like the halter plan wasn’t going to work.  We decided to rustle them over to the goat stall, where we would have more room and the pigs would be closer to the gate we would use to move them through. 

Brett and I were stationed outside the chicken coop with a large plywood board to guide the pigs over to the other stall.  Our thinking was that if they came out of the coop and their view to the barnyard was blocked, they’d naturally turn towards the goat stall – and once they were headed in that direction it would be a natural thing for them to just go on in there, especially once they saw us out in the barnyard.  And that was just how it worked out for us – easy peasy, lemon squeezy.

But now we had a stall full of four pigs who were on to us.  We closed the gate on them, and David dropped the halter down on one of the pigs, catching it under one of its forelegs and around the neck. 

If you catch a dog this way, as long as the animal is not already panicked, you might find it simply relaxes under the gentle pressure applied to its chest and back – it’s a calming feeling to them that reminds them of their mother’s care when they were pups.  Not so with pigs – their instinct is that any constraint means that they have become a prey animal, and the eating will begin soon. 

The pig was right in this case, except that we planned to give it a few more months before the deed must be done.  But the animal bucked and jumped a few times, and the screaming started.  Not something you want to be around – I heard the peanut gallery over there yelling “Make it stop!” a few times.

This pig wasn’t going anywhere on a leash.  It finally just collapsed on the floor of the stall and waited to meet its maker – except that wasn’t our plan at all.  David moved in and hefted the pig off the ground, hauling him towards the gate and yelling out instructions as he went, only barely loud enough to be heard over the pig.

We got them through gate, closing it behind so the others couldn’t get out.  David was moving along at a trot, with the pig in his arms, and I followed along to open the electric fence (that we had turned off, I should be sure to note).  Meanwhile the pig was screaming all the while.

David’s triathlon training was paying off, and I had trouble keeping up with him, but there was another good reason for me to keep my distance.  About halfway to the new pasture, David looked over his shoulder and back at me, asking asked, “Is this pig peeing on me?”

“No, David,” I said, “he’s shitting on you.” In fact, the pig had been continuously evacuating itself since they’d gotten out of the barnyard.  Fortunately, most of it had not landed on David – but now I noticed that he was not going to emerge unscathed from the experience.

“I think I got some in my shoe!” he said.

Plan C at work - but that's tomorrow's post.

As we continued along towards the new pasture, I had to reflect on my own preparation for this experience.  Two years of butchering, and a month as an agribusiness intern doing odd jobs on the farm, and this was the first time I had seen an animal release such quantities – and on the fly, so to speak, as well.  I had developed such a pastoral, bucolic view of the whole eat local thing, but that was turning into something altogether different, and fast.

I turned these thoughts over in my mind until I remembered why we were doing this – for next spring’s bacon.  I got over it pretty quickly after that.  We sped through the rest of the chore, getting that pig in its new pasture and turning on the electric fence, and our thoughts began to move on to how we might catch and move the other three.

At this point, the one thing we knew for sure was that this approach wasn’t going to work for us with the next one.  We were going to move on to plan C – and that’s where I will pick up the story tomorrow.

Pig Wranglin' - Part 1

“Never wrestle with a pig.  You both get dirty and the pig likes it.” - Unknown

A few weeks ago, when my nephew visited, we decided to drop by Public House Produce to pick up some eggs for breakfast.  Our plan was to pair them up with some of the bacon I had from last winter’s butchering, with Mary making a batch of Popovers(!) from the mix our friend Brian sent us – he’s written about them frequently on his blog “Breakfast at Epiphany’s”:  http://breakfastatepiphany.blogspot.com/search/label/Popovers

The four pigs in the barnyard, before we started.

As we entered the driveway, the Sourses were out front playing with their dogs, so we yelled “howdy” to each other – when you hear this in person, on one side of it, it sounds more like “Woooooooo!” – and I mentioned we were after eggs (although I also wanted to check in on the 2014 pigs).  They wished us well and we drove on back, where we picked up the eggs, and then I showed Brett the pigs and chickens in the barn stalls.

The visit went well and we had our eggs - it was all "good times on the farm" - and then David came around for a chat.  He asked if I might help him with a chore:  He needed to move the four pigs from the barnyard to a new pasture, and it was a task that required at least two people.  Despite my fears of not being up to the task, my fears of basic ineptitude or inadequacy, I agreed.

David tells the story of how a couple of years ago, the first year I was involved with the pig business, he went to the barn to tend the animals and saw the pigs and goats all mixed together in a stall.  They get along very well for the most part, and by this time the pigs had gotten over 200 pounds.  As he walked up, he noticed that one of the pigs had the back leg of one of the goats in his mouth - just sort of casually sizing up whether his stall mates might make a good meal or not.  

This was serious business.  Here we are sizing up the task
after moving the first pig.  Some might call this phase
"Moving on to Plan B."

It seemed the close quarters were getting everybody into trouble.  The goat was none the worse for the experience, but that led David to decide the pigs and goats needed to be put out to greener - and larger - pastures once the herd got to a certain stage of maturity.   So that bit of insight was what led to the chore that we were going to take on today.

Now, it's a standard practice of mine - whenever I happen to be there for a chore - to get a pretty thorough walk through of the task at hand.  This has served me well, because the first purpose of the conversation is to determine if this is a real assignment...something actually necessary on the farm, and not a practical joke to be played on greenhorns.  We quickly progressed past this stage on the chore, reference the story about the goat and pig above.

The second purpose of this orientation discussion is to find out if there is an actual plan for the activity.  I just want to know what to expect, since I am honestly a newbie at some of this - and I'm not shy to admit it.  It turned out that beyond some basic ideas about how to do it, there wasn't really a plan for moving the pigs along.  However, the goats were already "over there" in the pasture, about 200 yards away.

David spelled out three alternatives for how we might accomplish the migration. It wasn't exactly like we would be parting the Red Sea or anything, but still it was going to be a challenging task:

1. Build a short pathway from the barnyard to the pasture - but we didn't have enough electric fencing to get us all the way there.
2. Use the goat halters to calmly walk the pigs from one place to the other.  This one sounded really good, in theory - at the time, I was not familiar with how readily pigs accept being on a leash.
3. Chase down and catch the pigs one by one, and then carry them the 200 yards or so...the pigs at this stage are only 50 pounds or so, so I agreed that the idea was feasible, but not necessarily practical.

My next post will move on to the execution of this chore - including our decision about how to do the job.  But in the meantime, I'll leave you with this short video of our assessment of how cooperative we might expect the pigs to be.  As you watch, consider how easily it might be to implement option 3.  

Pigs in a Poke

A couple of weekends ago, David told me he was going to move the pigs from the barnyard out to one of the corn fields at Public House Produce.  I got to be part of that move and have a post coming up about the adventure - but when we made our stop by the farm at the Page County Century, I had the chance to stop by and see them.

As I was driving off, I stopped for a minute to get out of the truck to check them out.  They came a-running, but I'm not sure if that's because they remember me or because they thought I was going to bring them a treat.

When I saw them, they were busy making a great big piggy mess with all the wet weather, rooting around in the mud.  They're really are doing well in the new digs.

Later, David sent the video below, so I thought I would share it as well.  They're coming right along.

Les Nouveaux Porcine Ont Arrivé

The title of today's post, a la français, is "the new swine have arrived."  On Thursday afternoon, I received a note via Facebook that David was on the way to pick up this year's bunch of pigs, and that they would be arriving at the farm in time for the Page County Grown tour on Saturday.

So we could see them and check them out.  I told Mary, who reacted with a squeamish, "oh no, no, no, no - I don't want to see them."  It's all about the fact that the food has a face, I guess.

Now, this is a joyous time on the farm.  The new arrivals are getting to know their whereabouts and the routines.  There's a lot of exploration to be done, and they'll get to know the goats and chickens that are going to share the barnyard.

I have a video here about the first few days with the pigs, just after the 2011 batch arrived:

This reminds me - I guess I need to check the freezer.

L'aventure commence!

Swine Song

Pig pile.  With a goat as observer.

Here’s a close-out post for the month, about the swine again.  In the issue of Mother Earth News I’ve been reading, there is a brief discussion of the economics of raising your own, so I can nerd out for a post about costs – that’s a treat for me, you know, as an economist. 

Speaking of which – there’s an old joke about economists…

How do you know which one's the extrovert in an elevator full of economists?

He’ll be the one looking at everyone else’s shoes.

Now back to the costs of "home growing" pork.

If you’re starting with a fifty pound weaner pig, the estimate is 585 pounds of ration to get the animal up to 250 pounds.  While this sounds somewhat inefficient, apparently it is better than what you get with beef but not as good as with chickens.  But then pigs are so much more fun, so you have that going for you…it’s got to be worth something.

Now, the article estimates the cost of the feed at between $155 and $250, depending on whether you’re going conventional or organic.  There are offsets – if you have good pasture, for example, or if, like Michael Perry described in “Coop,” you’re able to supplement with stale backed goods or old produce (I know David usually has veggies that aren’t in market condition that he’ll toss to the livestock), then you'll see some savings.

All totaled, once you’ve gotten the pig (technically, it's a hog once it passes 120 pounds, as we learned in yesterday's post) up to market weight, you’re looking at around $1.50 to $3.00 per pound, depending on your region.  That includes butchering, which we do ourselves…but then, David takes them up well past 250 pounds.  So all said and done, where probably doing better than the Mother Earth News article estimates.

And it is very worth it, even if it might come out a bit higher due to market conditions for the feed.  I can’t say I’ve tasted better pork than we were enjoying last year – and the experimentation with grilling the various cuts was well worthwhile…

You can check out my pork cooking adventures under the label “pork diaries” in the right hand column.

Here's to a Happy New Year.  Thanks for reading this year, see you in 2013!

Talking Pork

Pending bacon.

(Update on yesterday's post:  I had mentioned that we didn't stick around to see if the pigs had eaten the spent grain I'd brought.  David sent me a note letting me know that the swine had indeed gone out and sampled the offering I left...Jim, I just wanted you to know that shortly after you left the farm the pigs enjoyed their Christmas treat.  I was going to snap a photo for you but I did not have my phone with me.  Anyhow, between the pigs and chickens, the spent grain was gone in short order.)

Speaking of visiting the pigs, and by pigs, I mean the gilts and barrows…there is a fine article about raising your own pigs in the most recent issue of Mother Earth News.  The byline is credited to Oscar H. Will III, but I thought I might quote a few highlights here – today, specifically, some of the technical names used for these animals…although I will continue to use the terms pigs and hogs interchangeably.

• Piglet – a term for baby swine that is rarely used by folks who raise pigs (although I like to use it and frequently have with my younger siblings)
• Pig – a young swine, something you might be tempted to call a piglet - but that's what I call them most of the time
• Shoat – an adolescent pig that has been weaned but weighs less than 120 pounds
• Hog – a maturing swine that has passed the 120-pound mark
• Boar – an intact male
• Barrow – a castrated male
• Gilt – a young female before her first litter
• Sow – a mature female hog after her first litter
• Weanling or Weaner – 8- to 12-week-old pig tht has just been removed from its mother
• Feeder Pig – a young animal (generally less than 70 pounds) you might purchase to raise for pork

Now that I am in my second year of having a pork share with Public House Produce, I’ve seen just about the complete life-cycle for swine…with the exception of the breeders- the boar and the sow.  

But at least I know what to call them now.

Pig Stop

Two of this year's pigs.
(And goats and chickens.)

For the last couple of weekends I’ve been able to make stops by Public House Produce with ulterior motives – David had a late broccoli crop, for one thing, and then with school out he had some spare eggs that filled out the second plan.  But the main reason I wanted to get by there was to check in on the pigs.

Chris and I have gone in again on shares of one of the hogs.  We’ll split a pork when the time comes. 

Working with David, that means you do your own butchering – likely in early February this year, judging from how the porkers are coming along – and I’m hoping that Chris will be able to join me for the upcoming event this year.  It’s quite a thing to be a part of and I’m looking forward to it.

(I posted about the experience last year under the “butchering” label, in the right hand column – although I’ve spared you any photos of the animals during the process out of respect for them.) 

Each year, David gets four feeder pigs – weaned youngsters that weigh 35 to 50 pounds, and raises them to a respectable weight.  Last year the bunch got to around 400 pounds on average – typically, industrially raised hogs are taken to around 250 pounds.  There is quite a harvest of meat from these guys, and even with only a half share, Mary and I are still working on some of the cuts, while Chris told me that he finished the last of their ham earlier this week.

I’ve been trying to find some kind of pig treat that I might be able to give these guys this year.  See, last year we had a great acorn crop here at Hawksbill Cabin – we have a stand of a dozen or so white oaks in the yard, and I collected around 10 pounds of acorns for the swine.  Later, when the red oaks in the Alexandria neighborhood were ripe, I got another three or four pounds together for them.

David told me about he and his daughter feeding the acorns to the pigs.  They’re very gentle with this particular pig delicacy, and snort around for them, picking them up gently in their mouths, lips almost pursed, to savor them.  A gentle munch to crack off the hull, and another to break the nut open…then a ginger chewing as if to enjoy every last crunch.

They’re typically nowhere near this careful with the rest of their food, he tells me.

Well, there were no acorns this year, so I decided to try and give the swine some spent grain from the big brewing enterprise brewer Dan put on Christmas weekend (I’ll post on that topic next week).  I collected all the grain in a five gallon bucket and hauled it over to the pigs.

When Mary and I got to the farm, the weather was a wintry mix, and the pigs were all snuggled together in a pig pile.  They woke up at my approach and were curious about what sort of treat a human might be bringing them.  They milled about at the door and finally ventured out into their pasture. 

But there was a light rain and some sleet mixed into the weather just then.  Even though they watched me slop out the grain bucket, they only made it a few feet out of the barn before they turned back inside.

So I don’t know if they like the spent grain or not…but  David assures me that even if they don’t, the laying hens that share that pasture with the pigs will.  

The Pigs are Alright

It had been a few weeks since I stopped by to check out the pigs, so I sent David a note and he said, "Help Yourself!" and Mary and I trekked over there.

We happened to catch him at home so he came out for a visit.  He told me one of the pigs had fallen ill, and pointed to the one in the back with the droopy ears.  Who knew that pigs had a health indicator like that?

On another note, since there'd been a break in the weather and it had gotten pretty cold in the Valley, he'd installed a heat lamp in the stall.  They're all sleeping under it here.

The goats had to be banished out of there while it is hung up.  Those knuckleheads were butting it around, and in typical goat fashion, mouthing it.  They'd have knocked it down and probably electrocuted themselves. Dumbasses.

David had assessed that the pig had become dehydrated - or actually, had eaten too much salt in its feed.  So it had symptoms very much like a cold, although the poor animal was really putting up a fight.  David said, "Well, it's 50/50 right now, and we'll know within the next 48 hours."

As it turned out, the little fellow had a turn for the better starting that evening, and I guess everything is fine now.  Good news.

New Pigs!

A few weeks ago I realized that David had gotten the pigs at just around this time last year - when I was spending some time on the farm in my so-called internship.  When I asked him about it at the farmers market, he confirmed that this was the time he'd be headed out to get the new pigs, and next thing I knew, there was a photo of them all on Facebook.

This one is a shot of all the little pigs in a pile sleeping one morning last week - the temperatures are getting down into the 50's at night now, so they sleep pretty close together.

All pink and proud.

Pigs sleep soundly, and their wakeup time is at least an hour after the chickens get up, as you can see here.  In fact, even the goats had wondered into the stall that morning before the pigs got up.

No post about pigs would be complete if I didn't mention last year's pig, who I called Pork Chop, much to David's daughter's chagrin.  Here she is, weighing in at just about 400 pounds last January.  The week before we butchered her.

To put this new bunch in perspective, they probably arrived at the farm at around 35 pounds, and they may already be passing 45 on the way to 50.  They'll pass normal market weight of 250 in November or so, and then continue growing until January.

Here's to Pork Chop, in any case.

Pig Ahead!

One of the traditions of the Shenandoah Time Trial bicycle race is the sign "Pig Ahead" pictured here.  Now, I followed that race on Facebook last year, and I thought this was a whimsical element of a pretty serious race - and upon seeing it, I knew I had taken the right impression.

The sign appears at about 1 kilometer or so from the finish line, so whether the rider is out on the 14K, 24K, or 40K route, it is a welcome sight.

But even better is what it refers to: a spectacularly tasteful bit of yard sculpture that one of the town residents has erected.  Here's a photo:

Last year the sign was stolen after the race, apparently.  I take that to mean that there are a number of people out there who appreciate this particular tradition, as I do.

Shortly after the race, Chris Gould posted a status that the pig sign had been recovered safely this year, a good thing.  No doubt, the riders will appreciate this indication that they have reached the home stretch in next year's race.

I'll also use "Pig Ahead" as a note to say that I will be posting on two pig roasts during next week's blog entries.  Then we'll move on to the 2012 Page County Grown Farm Tour.

The Pork Diaries: The Half Rack

It was with much trepidation last weekend that I reached into the freezer and pulled out my first half rack of ribs.  There is so much lore about cooking this particular cut of meat - so many approaches to the task and so many recipes - that I was very worried about my effort living up to all the hype.

Adding to the pressure is our local BBQ place, Rocklands, where Mary and I have been enjoying meals of ribs for more than 15 years.  As a matter of fact, when I decided I would use a sauce on the ribs, theirs is the one I chose.

In the end, just as with the pulled pork effort, there really wasn't much that could go wrong.  If you're careful about the heat and you live by the "low and slow" rule - they'll probably come out fine.

After the ribs were thawed, there were two key prep steps that I took.  The first was to prepare the ribs by cutting the skirt off (we cooked this on the grill with simple seasonings and had it a couple of days later, after the ribs were gone), and stripping off the shiny membrane that covers the "inside" of the rack.  The second step was putting together a rub for the meat, which I did based on what we have in the spice rack and on some refinement to what we had enjoyed on the pulled pork.  I let the meat sit with the rub on it for three hours this time - I like to think that added to the flavor.

Next I stoked the Big Unit.  I have been using hickory exclusively for smoking the meats out there, and this was no exception.  At first, the heat in the Big Unit gets up to around 300 degrees, but since I am using indirect heat I figure this is just searing whatever cut I am cooking that day.  I start with the smoke immediately and continue that for the first hour to hour and a half as the heat adjusts downward to around 225.  So far that approach has paid off with a fine red layer that permeates the meat when it is finally done.

I cooked the ribs for about 2.5 hours,  They weren't at a "fall off the bone" state, which was fine by me, but they were definitely done, and besides, my charcoal had burned out.  I haven't quite mastered the charcoal recharging process - I'll have to keep practicing that.

With about 15 minutes to go, I slathered on the sauce and moved the half rack over to the gas side.  There I lit the left and right burners, turning them to medium, and kept the center burner off.  The ribs rested there between the two heated burners while they soaked in the Rocklands sauce.

In the end, Mary and I were very happy with the results of this recipe.  We paired them with another go at the curried summer squash soup I had made before and some fresh cucumbers, all from the truck patch. (Tomatoes, peppers and eggplants are all coming soon, by the way, but not ready yet.)

There is a photo above of the final product.  They were - tasty.  I can't wait to try this one again.

FYI, here's a link to Rocklands, our local BBQ place in Alexandria:  http://www.rocklands.com/

Home raising pigs

Happened to catch this article in the Washington Post today.  I will try and keep an eye out for the updates when they come in...

http://www.washingtonpost.com/lifestyle/food/pig-to-table-project-off-to-a-happy-start/2012/07/16/gJQA8U09qW_story.html

By the way, here's a little video of the pigs David raised at the farm last year - when they were puppies.

Makin' Bacon

Chris with the cimeter and the bacon...
David in the background overseeing
the knife play.

Last week, I got the call from David that the hams and bacon were back from the smokehouse.  So I made plans with Chris to head over and do this, the second-to-last errand related to the hog butchering.  Then final one will be when the salt-curing process for the fatback is done, and I don’t yet have an idea of when that will be completed.

A side of bacon - pre-slicing.

I was really glad that Chris was able to join for this, and Mary went along with us too.  Since Chris hadn’t been able to do the “hands on” (more like “hands in”) part of the process, I offered to let him do the bacon makin’ – and he jumped at the chance.  David took us back into the cooler where our hams and meat were stored, and we brought out the two sides of bacon.

They had to be skinned first, and Chris took the Cimeter knife out for that.  Then he blocked them into about 8-inch squares, saving the cuttings for other uses. 

Meat slicing demo.  I've got to get me
one of these machines!

David and Heather have a meat slicer that they were using to prepare the bacon…for some reason, I was imagining this to be a much more complex and difficult operation than what it really is. And then of course, the Seinfeld episode where Kramer gets a deli slicer from a bankruptcy auction and then begins taking orders kept coming into my head.

Chris cut my side into fairly thin slices, and then ratcheted up the thickness for his.  When we got to the odds and ends, we left it on thick and split those portions into shares as well.  There are some residual fatty pieces with a little meat on them that should go well with greens and beans later in the spring, so we’ve kept that too.

All totaled, I have about 24 portions of bacon coming out of this, that I’ve packaged two-to-a-bag - about a pound per bag.  We left room so that we can just fold over the edge of the freezer bag to reseal the second portions until we’re ready to use them.

Some of the finished product.

I’ll post on the hams next week.  But for now, I still can’t get over all the pork.  There is just a whole lot of it!

Closing Out on the Butchering, Kelly!

Here's the pork, all packed for the trip
back to Alexandria.  I was burning some
red oak I've been curing in the background.

Today will be my last post about the pig butchering that I was part of a couple of weekends ago.  At least for now.  

Looking back on it, I am remembering some hard work – everyone of us talked about hitting the sack early after the first day’s efforts on Friday.  But as I told David when I got home on Sunday night, something about the experience was very relaxing; it’s not often that I could say that I started the work week as refreshed as I felt that Monday morning after the event.

There is still a stockpile of memories that I haven’t managed to capture in the blog, beginning with one of the tales Mark was spinning during the BS session before we went off to the slaughter.  The rest of the story will come back to me eventually, but the punchline still resonates:  “Well, roadkill is just about all I eat anymore.”

Then there was the comment from my dad about making the sausage (indicating true insider knowledge):  “Were those ‘natural sausage casings’ creek washed and stump slung?  You were born about two generations too late!”

Ted, one of my colleagues at the butchering who took a lot of pictures and shared them with me over on Shutterfly, had this to say:

A view of some of the larger roasts...
in one of the three fridges I'm storing it in!

“From pig to pot to pan to plate, the photos in this album are from last weekend's visit to Luray where I helped brother-in-law Bill and others butcher 4 hogs. … the bulk of the butcherin' took place on Friday; sausage, scrapple, packaging, and clean-up on Saturday; and Sunday breakfast. We used to do this almost annually many years ago and this is the first time for me in many years. Back then, Ann and I would buy some pork, but this year was just to participate in the process for the social camaraderie and metaphysical benefits of doing so. But that demands more commentary, so I'll let it go for now. Thanks to Bill, Jessica, Jesse, Tammy, Mark, Susie, David, Heather, Jim, and Eric for letting me get in the way.”

Among Ted's photos were a couple of shots of the breakfast he mentions.  They served up scrapple - I have to say that his photos of it in the pan and on the plate look scrumptious.  Mary and I will break down and have some soon, but in the meantime, I have enjoyed sharing some of it with the neighbors (a big part of the joy is the opportunity to regale the big city folk with my butchering tale!).

Mary and finally had a chance to enjoy some of the pork this weekend.  I made up some chops on Saturday night and served them up with a nice bit of roasted butternut squash.  There were leftovers (most of the chops are packed in fours), so for Sunday dinner we made a stirfry with some of the cabbage that is still growing out in Mary’s Alexandria truck patch.

Breakfast sausage.  Bob Evans,
 eat your heart out!

Sausage and mushroom quiche!

We also had breakfast sausage this morning – Chris told me they did too.  The simple recipe I chose, salt, pepper and sage, is a hit.  Mary and I had some leftover, so I put it in a quiche with some swiss cheese and mushrooms.  We’ll be eating on that for a few days!

So getting back to the point of all of this.  Some things finally came together for me about our little house out there – Hawksbill Cabin.  Ted’s put it best in his intro to the photos when he mentions the social camaraderie and the metaphysical benefits.  There’s something to all of this, resonating deep in one of the chromosomes that ties us all together.  I can’t wait until next year.

Parts is...parts

As folks took turns stirring the pudding,
there was quite a bit of socializing going on.

As Wikipedia has it:


Scrapple is traditionally a mush of pork scraps and trimmings combined with cornmeal and flour, often buckwheat flour, and spices. The mush is formed into a semi-solid congealed loaf, and slices of the scrapple are then pan-fried before serving. Scraps of meat left over from butchering, not used or sold elsewhere, were made into scrapple to avoid waste. Scrapple is best known as a rural American food of the Mid-Atlantic States…. Scrapple and pon haus (the Wikipedia article says this is a traditional Amish name for scrapple) are commonly considered an ethnic food of the Pennsylvania Dutch, including the Mennonites and Amish. Scrapple is found in supermarkets throughout the region in both fresh and frozen refrigerated cases.

Mark worked over the meat for the scrapple.
I turned down at least 3 invitations to try some.

The preparations for making scrapple began on Friday evening, as we were winding down from breaking the carcasses up into smaller roasts and other cuts. The organ meat, retrieved earlier during the day (after David’s short demonstration of how to rummage through the gut tub for the heart and liver, I did it myself) had been put aside for this purpose, as had some parts of the head. This was mixed with a bit of lard and other scraps to make the meat basis of the dish.

I was impressed that there was quite a bit of activity involved in making it; there was a very social aspect to it as you can see from the photos, and of course, the cooked organ meat was carefully handled and diced into appropriately sized morsels.

I politely declined tasting any of the “yummy bits” during the process, preferring to defer the pleasant surprise that surely awaits until the dish was fully prepared. Now, with a dozen or so tubs in the fridge, I’m still wondering whether we will eat any…although I have three or four neighbors signed up for tubs, and some friends in Luray are known partakers.

What's cooking?  "I don't know the word for
it in English."

Why the hesitancy? I suppose it is because my family never really ate any of the foods – separately, or in a single recipe – that are part of this dish, so it’s something I’m not used to eating. Maybe salvation lies further on down in the Wikipedia article, though:

Scrapple is usually eaten as a breakfast food, and can be served plain or with apple butter, ketchup, jelly, maple syrup, honey, or even mustard, and accompanied by eggs, potatoes, or pancakes. In some regions, such as New England, scrapple is mixed with scrambled eggs and served with toast. In the Philadelphia area, scrapple is sometimes fried and then mashed with fried eggs, horseradish and ketchup.

Scrapple is a community food - this is only part of
the yield, which was shared amongst all of us.

With enough condiments, one could probably disguise the strong tastes and make it through the first time. After that, my butchering friends assure me, I’ll be hooked.

(Note: It was my plan to conclude the butchering posts today, but there have been a number of comments on Facebook that I think I will compile into a wrap-up. Plus, one of my colleagues from the experience has sent a link to his photos of the two days, and I’d like to share that. So look for that extra post on Monday.)

The Wikipedia article on scrapple is here:  http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Scrapple