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By pigwhisperer, December 27, 2009

Caul fat is a membrane of fat that encloses a pig’s intestines. Fat, unfortunately, has a bad reputation these days. We tend to think of it as greasy, unnecessary, or harmful. We might not think of fat as being beautiful, but caul fat is just that. It looks like lace. It is blindingly white and not at all oily.

In Jennifer McLagen’s book “Fat: An appreciation of a misunderstood ingredient, with recipes,” the author argues that, if used properly, really good animal fat gives food incredible flavors. About pork fat, she writes that, depending on the breed of pig and their diet, “pork fat is mostly monounsaturated in the form of oleic fatty acid, plus it contains palmitoleic fatty acid, which has antimicrobial properties…Pork fat’s low levels of polyunsaturtaed fatty acids means it doesn’t turn rancid easily and is very stable when heated.”

Caul fat turns a lovely golden brown when cooked and is indicated for wrapping around lean cuts of meat. So, when baking our Christmas turkey, I decided to try something new—in order to keep the breast meat tender, why not cover the bird in caul fat before slipping it in the oven? (We just happen to have an excess of caul fat around here from our pigs.) I draped that lacy membrane over the bird, and the results were incredible! The fat melted to a thin, crispy webbing. The breast was extremely tender and juicy. Caul fat is my new best friend.

Here’s the turkey recipe. I’m not specific with amounts because it really depends on the size of your bird. You can ask a local butcher to get you some caul fat, especially if you live in Chicago and have access to places like the Paulina Meat Market.

In a small bowl, combine the following:
Minced garlic
Kosher salt (not too much, because the fat will add some saltiness)
Fresh rosemary
Black pepper
Lime/lemon/orange zest (again, not too much)
2 bay leaves

Rub the bird with lemon juice and olive oil. Give her a good Swedish massage. Then apply the garlic-spice rub over and under the skin. Slide the bay leaves under the breast skin; when the bird cooks and its skin becomes transparent, the leaves look very pretty underneath. Let the bird sit, unstuffed, in the fridge over night. The next day, let the bird get nearly to room temperature (so you’re not putting it in the oven ice-cold.) Stuff the bird if you like. Give the bird a generous coating of honey or maple syrup. Soak the caul fat in lukewarm water to loosen it. Stretch it out carefully, place it on a towel, and pat dry. Drape your bird with the caul fat. (I had to carefully cut my piece of caul fat in half, because it was enormous.) Then place the bird in a roasting pan with a rack, and cover in aluminum foil. Cook depending on the turkey’s weight. In the last 30-or-so minutes, take off the aluminum foil, brush on some more honey/maple syrup, and let it get nice and golden.

If anyone actually tries this recipe, let me know how you like it. I’ll be making it again next year for sure.

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By pigwhisperer, October 30, 2009

In a bag, of course. We weighed three of Mona’s brood today. We’re keeping the three biggest, longest piglets which we have named Red, Pinks, and Spots. The other piglets will be sold, which means they’ll be raised and fattened on other farms. Here’s Red, chillin’ in her weigh bag. She weighed a whopping 14 kilos (around 30 lbs), which is great for a 45-day-old pig. Once the piglets get in the bag, they are amazingly calm. Maybe they feel swaddled?

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By pigwhisperer, July 12, 2009

One of our mother pigs, Iracema, gave birth to 6 healthy piglets. Iracema got so big during her pregnancy we though 20 piglets would be born, but sometimes less is more; these 6 pigs will not have to compete with a dozen other siblings for their mother’s milk. We have 5 mother pigs on the farm: Mona II, Julieta II, Serena (aka Crazy Eyes), Iracema, and Clara. Our stud is named Barto. He’s a big guy who likes getting his ears scratched. We have brushes outside of each of our pig pens, so we can rub the pigs’ backs and bellies. Most of the pigs like this brushing business; some just squirm and squeal. Our pigs are a mix of Lean variety and Landrasse (or Landrace). The Landrace breed was developed in Denmark by crossing the native pig with the Large White. Danes refused to export live pigs until World War II, when the best specimens of the breed were exported to Sweden. The progeny from these pigs eventually reached England and Ireland. According to the online Encyclopedia Britannica, Landrace pigs have “white skin” and are a “lop-eared pig with a long middle, light forequarters, and excellent ham development.”

Outside of our 5 mother pigs and Barto, we have 19 pigs for “engorda” or fattening. These pigs are fed a combination of grains, fruits, greens, sugar cane, and banana tree trunks multiple times a day. We will harvest the engorda pigs for hams, and eventually prosciutto and sausages. I got the term “harvest” from Barbara Kingsolver’s book, “Animal, Vegetable, Miracle.” I like the term “harvest” as opposed to other terms like “kill” or “butcher.” Not because “harvest” sounds prettier — these pigs will be killed and we will eat their meat, and there is no way to deny or obfuscate this fact. To me, the term “harvest” implies that care was taken in raising these animals. That their deaths are part of a longer process, and that they lived well during each stage of their development.