PORK.
At the South, where, in spite of the warm climate, the consumption of pork is double that of the North, the full-grown hog is seldom represented by any of his parts at the table, fresh or pickled, unless it be during killing-time, when fresh spare-ribs, chine, and steak, with other succulent bits, are welcome upon the choicest bills of fare. The rest of the animal—ham, shoulders, and middlings—is consigned to the packing barrel, and ultimately to the smoke-house. But, in cool weather, “shoat”—i. e., pig under six months of age—is abundantly displayed in market, and highly esteemed by all classes. The meat is fine and sweet, and, unless too fat, nearly as delicate as that of chicken—a very different-looking and tasting dish from the gross oleaginous joints and “chunks” offered for sale in many other regions as “nice young pork.” Those of my readers who can command “shoat” are to be heartily congratulated. Those whose butchers dispense only portions of the mature porker will do well, in my opinion, if they rarely admit him to their families before he has been salted, and been thereby purged of many unwholesome properties. Few stomachs, save those of out-door laborers, can digest the fresh meat of a two or three, or even one year old hog. This is the truthful, but, to unaccustomed ears, offensive name for him at the South and West, where his qualities and habits are best known.
The parts of a properly dissected hog are the hams, shoulders, griskin or chine, the loin, middlings, spare-ribs, head, feet, liver, and haslet. The choice portions are hams, shoulders, and, for roasting, the loin. All hogs should be kept up and well fed for three weeks, at least, before they are killed; their styes be frequently cleaned, and furnished with abundance of water, renewed every day. Sir Grunter would be a more cleanly creature if he were allowed more extensive water privileges. If it were possible—and in the country this may sometimes be done—to build his pen on the bank of a running stream, he would speedily redeem his character from the stain cast upon it by the popular verdict, and the superior quality of the meat repay the thoughtful kindness of his owner. It is a disgrace to humanity, hardly second to the barbarities of swill-milk manufactories, this compulsory filth of any domestic animal. Those who, like myself, have been loathing witnesses of the pig-pens upon the premises of well-to-do farmers—the receptacles of the vilest slops and offal, never cleaned except during the yearly removal of manure from barnyard to field—cannot marvel at the growing prejudice against pork in all its varieties that pervades our best classes. We feed the hog with the offscourings (this is literal) of house, garden, and table; bed him in mire, and swell him with acetous fermentation, not to say active decomposition, and then abuse him for being what we have made him. I am persuaded—and wiser people than I declare—that hog-scrofula and cholera, and the rest of the train of fleshly ills that are the terror of pork-raisers, have, one and all, their root in this unseemly inhumanity. Eschew fresh pork we may, but we cannot dispense with hams, shoulders, and, most valuable of all to the cook, lard and pickled pork. Real sausage, porcine and home-made, is still sweet and pleasant to the unpampered palate; and of roast pig, the gentlest and most genial of English essayists did not disdain to become the eulogist. In memory of his usefulness, in belief of the healthfulness which should be his birthright, and the safeguard of his consumers, let us treat Bristle well—I do not say philosophically, but sensibly and kindly.
A pig should not be allowed to eat anything for twenty-four hours before he is killed. After he is butchered, great care should be exercised to keep the pork from tainting; it spoils more readily, when fresh, than any other meat. Cook all kinds of pork thoroughly. When underdone it is not only unpalatable, but exceedingly unwholesome.
Roast Leg of Pork.
One weighing about seven pounds is enough, even for a large family. If the pig be young, the leg will be even smaller. Score the skin in squares, or parallel lines running from side to side, for the convenience of the carver. Put it down to roast with a very little water in the pan below. Heat gradually until the fat begins to ooze from the meat, when quicken the fire to a red, steady glow. Baste only with its own gravy, and do this often, that the skin may not be hard or tough. When done take it up, skim the gravy thoroughly, put in half a cup of boiling water, thicken with brown flour, add pepper, salt, and the juice of a lemon, and serve in a boat.
Or,
If the joint be that of a full-grown hog, rub into the top, after scoring it deeply, a force-meat of bread-crumbs seasoned with sage and chopped onion, wet with the juice of a lemon or a very little vinegar; pepper and salt to taste. Rub this in hard until the cracks are filled. With a sharp knife make incisions close to the knuckle-bone, and stuff with the force-meat, tying a string tightly about it afterward, to prevent the escape of the seasoning. Rub over once with butter, when the meat is warm throughout; then baste with the fat. Skim all the fat from the drippings that can be removed before making the gravy.
Send around tomato or apple sauce, and pickles, with roast pork.