{"id":42,"date":"2011-11-20T12:36:10","date_gmt":"2011-11-20T12:36:10","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/blog.sandralangston.com\/?p=42"},"modified":"2011-11-20T12:36:10","modified_gmt":"2011-11-20T12:36:10","slug":"another-day-another-pig","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/blog.sandralangston.com\/?p=42","title":{"rendered":"Another day another pig"},"content":{"rendered":"

Some families choose to work the land and they resist gentrifying themselves by moving to \u00a0town. \u00a0 Over time and generations, these rural families can grow quite large and form veritable small villages, or in contrast, \u00a0the attrition rate of family members can be almost total, and the remaining “country” nucleus may dwindle to one or two people. \u00a0In the years since I have been here, the preference for city living, once very strong, \u00a0has shifted, and more people are moving back to their \u00a0farmland plots. \u00a0The life of the\u00a0contadino<\/em>, once \u00a0considered a necessary evil, is now looking better and better. \u00a0Although these days it requires a larger investment in money than in time.<\/p>\n

A family I know of— and I will justify my sources only by saying that they are in the grapevine and therefore as believable as any—was preparing for the winter by slaughtering a pig. \u00a0The process is intense, as you know, and only slightly more traumatic for the pig than for the perpetrators. \u00a0This small family consisted of mother father and son, the others having moved back to town. The pig had just been divided into two parts and hung for \u00a0further division into butcher-sized cuts, when an urgent phone call arrived. \u00a0There had been a death in the family, and in a neighboring town a wake and a funeral requested their presence. \u00a0It was very cold, and the parents packed the car and headed off, leaving the son to guard the house and prepare for eventualities of bad weather.<\/p>\n

The son was in his early twenties, and a healthy example of what fresh air and abundant food can do for someone, even with relatives averaging under five and a half feet tall. \u00a0In other words, he was a large guy, “nu frigoriforuh<\/em>,”* \u00a0as they say here. \u00a0It snowed that weekend , a rare occurrence in this valley even in full winter, and the parents were unable to return for two extra days. \u00a0Upon their reentry they were immediately mystified by the disappearance of all things pertaining to the slaughter, and \u00a0quite pleased that evidently the son had carried out the \u00a0necessary conservation and cleanup in their absence. \u00a0But they were met with furtive eyes and a baffling lack of smugness in reaction to their praise.<\/p>\n

As it turned out, the cold weather had whetted his vigorous appetite. \u00a0The son, foreseeing that groceries probably were not to be forthcoming that weekend, \u00a0had started in on the pig, sampling various cuts and preparations. \u00a0One serving led to another, and over the course of 72 hours the two-hundred pound carcass grew progressively slimmer. \u00a0A moral might be that \u00a0you can make your own bacon instead of bringing it home, but that won’t necessarily make you any richer. \u00a0Not when you are dealing with temptation and a large appetite. \u00a0Over the weekend the young man had eaten the entire pig!<\/p>\n

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painting: \u00a0“The Importance of Dinner” \u00a0gouache and \u00a0 pencil on paper, 2004<\/p>\n

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