whole hog: a class of hog butchery
(or how I learned to stop worrying and love head cheese)
What the hell is head cheese? That’s what I’ve always thought as it looked at me ominously and disgusting from the supermarket deli case. Something so unappetizing that I never thought to give it a shot; due in large part to the name. What the hell? As equally gross and disgusting sounding as the finished product had always looked. I’ve never been to France (or Europe) so scratch out having an opportunity to eat something authentic and possibly delicious.
When I read the description for Dai Due’s The Whole Hog class, I saw that among the other delightful and delicious pork offerings the class would also be making head cheese. Good. Once and for all I’d get to find out just WTF head cheese was. I figured if I saw how it was made, participated in its preparation I’d be OK with it. Scheduled during the 6-7 hour class was also lots of sausage recipes and a fantastic sounding braised-roasted pork belly that would be the by-product of learning how to butcher a hog.
Tucked away on a secret street bordering the railroad tracks was Chef Jesse Griffiths kitchen, the setting for our dismantling of our lovely porcine friend. When I arrived the air was already filled with pork but not the kind of pork you’d readily recognize. I couldn’t quite place my finger, nose, to it but it seemed familiar and exotic at the same time. Once inside the kitchen Jesse showed me around, pointing out the hog’s head already in a huge stockpot filled with water and aromatics, it’s piggy snout just peeking out.
There it was. The head. Our foil for the head cheese we’d be making later. It was exciting. I’ve been cooking all my life but never experienced a hog’s head in a stockpot. I worked in countless restaurant’s during my 20’s and still no piggy snout sticking out of a slowly simmering pot of water. This was the real deal. What have I gotten myself into?
Our 150+lb. half-pig came from Richardson Farms in Rockdale, TX, about 60 miles NE of Austin, and I’ll admit at first glance it looked a little intimidating. Once Jesse walked us through the butchering sequence it all started to fall into place. First you remove the head and get the head cheese started. The head will boil in a stock pot full of water and those aromatics for 5-6 hours, until the meat is falling off the bone (see recipe below). During this time the rest of the butchering happens, next removing the trotters (unfortunately, ours were already removed) and then the tenderloin.
In a grocery store or meat market the tenderloin looks small but nothing like it does when you’re removing it from the pig yourself and laying it against the ribs and belly. For all it’s treasured taste, it’s really only a minor primal cut compared to what else a half-hog yields. Kinda surprising to me that people go crazy for this little piece of meat with all the other possibilities. Marketing I guess.
After the tenderloin is removed it’s time to remove the highly coveted pork belly. The pork belly, or bacon, deserves its reverence among foodies and chefs. Done well, it can be transporting but done poorly it’s just a soggy, greasy mess. Fortunately, at the hands of Jesse and his unique braise/roast method, the belly he served at the Boucherie the following night truly was magical. Unctuous and decadent, with a crisp outer layer of skin (roast) and moist, tender meat underneath (braise). From here you could also slice the belly thin into what is commonly known as strips of bacon.
Once you’ve cut out the belly, the shoulder is next. The shoulder comes from the front leg of the pig and is commonly referred to as a picnic shoulder (top) and boston butt (bottom). This is where you’re pulled pork sandwiches come from, but for this class we were making sausage. And this brings up a good point. There are numerous ways to butcher a pig and for this class our purpose was to use the bulk of the meat for housemade sausages, pates, rillettes, terrines and head cheese. The “sausage method” is a great way to make use of all the meat from the pig, giving you the ability to stretch out the yield if, for instance, you were feeding 30-40 people with it.
The loin and the ham (back leg) are the last two cuts to make. From here if you were inclined you could make spare ribs, leave the ribs on the loin for a crown or standing-rib roast, or use them for stock and sausage making. Normally, the ham has a pretty specific use but our pig had so much fat (a good thing!) thus being extraordinarily well-marbled that we cut it up into chunks and tossed it into the grinder for sausages too.
Various assemblages of pates, brining of the loin (it will be spit-roasted the next day for the Boucherie), rendering the lard and then stuffing the sausages all happened next. Lots of work going into what would be our dinner the next night. Once all this was complete it was time to make the head cheese.
Our piggy head had been simmering in its water bath since before we arrived (about 6 hours ago) and it was falling off the bone done. Deftly using a set of tongs, Jesse’s sous chef Sonja removed the head and placed it in a bowl to cool. Once cool enough to handle we all dug in and started separating the good pieces of meat (like the cheek – OMG – as good as the shoulder if not better) from the waste. Steaming clouds of pork rose from the bowl and filled our nostrils and that’s when it hit me. That smell that I couldn’t place when I first arrived.
A few years ago we were in Beijing and Hong Kong. During our trip we walked alot and down every side street or store front we passed this smell wafted out from the doors of countless neighborhood Beijing cafes and restaurants. I could never put my finger on it then. It was a smell that I’d never encountered before. Not bad; not necessarily pleasant. Just different. Exotic I guess. Hard to think the smell of simmering pigs head as exotic with them being such an ingrained part of food cultures worldwide, but it was just that. Exotic.
With my hands deep into the head of a pig, tasting thinly sliced pig’s ear and tiny chunks of tongue I’d realized this too was exotic. At least to me. Tucked into this tiny cottage kitchen by the railroad tracks I’d come full circle to something – a smell at least – that I’d experience half-way around the world. A smell and experience that I wouldn’t soon forget. And I wasn’t afraid of head cheese anymore.
Head Cheese
Recipe used
with the permission of Chef Jesse Griffiths, Dai Due
1 pig’s head
2 pig’s trotters (ok to leave out if not available)
carrots
onions, peeled,
whole
spices (clove, cinnamon, allspice, coriander wrapped in cheesecloth bag)
bay leaves
shallots or small red onion, minced
orange or tangerine zest
white vinegar (can sub apple cider or wine vinegar)
parsley, chopped
spices (ground cinnamon, clove, ginger, allspice, nutmeg)
salt and pepper
Place the head and trotters in a large pot and cover with cold water. Bring to a boil, skim any foam that rises to the surface, and lower to a simmer. Add the spice bag and bay leaves and cook for one hour, skimming and fat or foam that rises to the surface. Add the carrots and onions and cook for two more hours, or until the meat is very tender. Allow the head to cool completely in the broth. Combine the shallots or onion with the vinegar and set aside. Pick all the meat from the head and trotters and chop roughly. Dice the carrots and set aside. Peel the skin from the tongue and cut into a small dice. Combine the chopped meat, carrots, spices and salt and pepper and set aside. Bring the stock to a boil, skim and lower to a simmer. Cook until reduced to 1 1/2 cups, about 3 or 4 hours. Skim occasionally. Drain the vinegar from the shallots or onion and add to the meat mixture along with some chopped parsley. Check the seasoning; it should be highly seasoned with spices, salt and pepper, as it will be served cold. Put all the meat into a loaf pan or terrine mold lined with plastic wrap, and pour the reduced stock over it. Refrigerate overnight, or until completely set. Unmold and slice with a sharp, thin-bladed knife.
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Richardson Farms, 2850 CR 412, Rockdale, 512.446.2306
A family run farm, the Richardsons specialize in “no-plow” tillage and in addition to the free-range pigs, raise broiler chickens, grass- and grain-fed beef. You can order their meats online, or visit them on Wednesday’s at the Austin Farmer’s Market at the Triangle, or Saturdays at the Sunset Valley Farmer’s Market.
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