Pig Magic

This one is for all you pork lovers out there.  It’s for the countless pieces of crispy fried bacon that have turned our gloomy mornings into a salty, savory delight.  For the BLT; it would be nothing without that glistening piece of pork.  For the many slices of salami that are carefully placed on a serving tray and when combined with cheese and crackers make any event tolerable.  For anything wrapped in prosciutto.  Enough said.

I told you a while back the pork in Hungary was on a different level.  Everywhere you look there is a different pork product being cooked, smoked, conserved and consumed.  The pig is the prized animal here and it is given the utmost respect.  For lunch today, I’m having pig’s feet.  It’s the real deal over here.

I know.  I’m sorry.  I’m sure I’ve made you drool all over your electronic device, salivating for some of this pork I rave about (okay, maybe not the pig’s feet) and now you are going to have to let everyone know you are not available because your phone or computer is broken due to pork.  Really?!  That is the most amazing reason for a malfunction ever!  

Well, I hope your device still works because I have a story to tell.  About pork.  An entire day devoted to pork.  You may never truly understand the magnitude of Hungarians and their love of pork unless you come here for yourself, but let me help by taking you on a little pork journey.

It was a foggy, cold, Friday morning when Andy and I met up with our friend Páli.  I had met with Páli’s daughter, Krisztina, a few days prior and asked her about Hungarian sausage making.  I had heard it only happens in the winter and wanted to get confirmation from a true Hungarian.  She wasn’t entirely sure about the timing of sausage preparation, but told me about another common winter time activity, the disznóvágás.  She explained it to me, but all I really gathered was that it included butchering a pig and making pig related things.  Pig related things?  What could be better than that?!

I did a little research and found out disznóvágás literally means pig killing.  It can be considered a ceremonial event and dates back to communist times when pigs were hard to come by.  When someone was able to get their hands on a pig, it was a celebratory event and the entire community participated.  During the winter months when the cold helps keep the meat chilled, families would gather together for the annual pig butchering and each family would take home a portion of the meat.  

Nowadays, people either own their own pigs or purchase one, but the gathering of family and butchering ceremony remains true to tradition.  

We were told to meet Páli in front of the Saint Háromság statue at 9 o’clock in the morning.  He knew some people who were having a disznóvágás that day and invited us along to partake.  Right on time, Páli pulled up in his car.   He asked where my car was parked, pointed in the direction behind his car, said a few more words I didn’t understand and pulled away slowly.  As with most scenarios over the last two months, I recited the sentence over and over in my head to try and decipher just one word, any word!  Oh, right.  He wanted us to follow him in our car.  Duh.  Figuring out just one Hungarian sentence is like winning the Amazing Race.  I’m living my own reality TV series over here.

So, we followed Páli.  I thought the pig killing would be out in the country, naturally, but we drove just a few blocks in town and parked in front of what looked like an abandoned building.  We were greeted by five guys, one of them being Páli’s friend and two women.  We were introduced, some words were exchanged (something about Americans), a few laughs followed and suddenly Páli was saying goodbye.  It turns out he had things to do, but wanted to get us to the disznóvágás.  We were there alright.  In the middle of someone’s property with a family we had never met, not knowing what we were about to witness; all with a limited Hungarian vocabulary.  Talk about diving right in?  Rolling with the punches?  That’s all we could do. Thankfully we had gotten pretty good at it over the last few months.

Before we could think about what to do next a flatbed truck pulled up and started backing into the yard.  You guessed it.  On the back lay two pigs already split in half and ready for butchering.  I was a little disappointed we missed the actual killing of the pig, but I had just cut a rooster’s neck the previous day so I couldn’t be too greedy.

As soon as the truck stopped it was go time.  Everyone there started scurrying around the yard setting up for the day’s events.  Each person knew exactly what to do and how to do it.  You could tell this wasn’t their first pig rodeo.  Andy and I did our best to stay out of the way, but when pig is being thrown around and fires are igniting it is hard to be a calm observer.  I was enthralled!  Like a kid in a candy shop except better because it was pork!  Like an adult in an all you can eat bacon store!  I was too excited to remain calm.  I thought of every Hungarian word I knew so I could spark up conversations.  We were strangers to these people, but they were so kind and generous, offering coffee, pogacsa (little biscuits) and even palinka (the local spirit).  After a few shots, even Andy started speaking Hungarian.  It didn’t take long before we felt like part of the family.  

I leaned in and listened as much as I could to document every detail, but it was much too big of an undertaking for one person to keep track of.  It takes a community to butcher a pig.  Lots of practice and many hands.  There was so much movement all around me.  Cutting, grinding, mixing, tasting, weighing, stuffing.  A few of the guys tried explaining certain steps to me, but I really only understood about 20 percent of it.  All I could do was continue taking pictures.  Hopefully my pig butchering picture board will be enough of a guide when I butcher my own pig.  Some day.  I’ll be sure to invite you all.

The day went on with smiles, laughter, hard work, a little more palinka and some serious pig magic.  It was a day I’ll never forget.

Now, you’ll have excuse me.  There is some bacon calling my name.

This is how the disznóvágás went down:

The pigs arrive.  These were around 200 kilograms a piece.  Each pig is split in half and the organs, head and other insides removed, but saved for good use.

Three wood burning stoves are lit with large cauldrons placed on top.  The pots are filled with water and brought to a boil.  They hold the head, organs, and other internal goodies which, when soft, will be ground up and made into one of two sausages: véres hurka (blood sausage) or májas hurka (liver sausage).

The butchering continues with all the common cuts of meat separated.  I’ve never seen butchering done with such speed and precision.

The meat table.

The shoulder meat, some meat scraps and pieces of fat are ground up to use for kolbász, the most popular type of Hungarian sausage.

Handfuls of sweet and spicy paprika are added to the pork along with ground onion, garlic, salt, pepper and other spices.  It is then given a nice, long, hard, hand massage to fully incorporate the flavors.  Note:  You can’t be afraid of raw pork at this point.  Grab a good size pinch and taste it!  This is the only way to know if your mix is perfect.

The stuffing begins!  Pig and cow intestines are used for two different sized sausages and some sort of magical intestine ladder is created for efficient stuffing.

Some of the kolbász along with the blood and liver sausage is baked in the oven and eaten fresh (the day’s lunch) while the remaining sausages are smoked and cured for later enjoyment.  As for the rest of the pig?  It will bring months of joy to it’s happy, pork loving owner.