This Post Ain't For Everyone! - Parts I & II

In our time here in Merida we've graciously been invited to a wide variety of local and cultural events - parties, dances, dinners, national holidays and fiestas, rodeos, etc.  About a month ago, our friend Maykel invited us to his house to partake in a very hands-on, fairly common event in the lives of people here:

We helped him butcher a pig.

Warning:  Within the post, we will include photos of the less-graphic variety.  But once the narration is done, and after some dead space as a final caution to you - the squeamish, vegetarian, Garden Burger eating, don't-want-to-know-where-my-chicken-nuggets-come-from, non-bacon loving types - there will be pictures of the pig in various stages of death and dismemberment.  Don't scroll beyond the final warnings if you don't wish to see that part of our adventure!!

Part I:
Although we arrived at the appointed time - very, very, early in the morning - I am sad to say that we missed the actual killing of Babe.  When we got to Maykel's, the victim was already dead and on a crude table in the back yard, one side of its torso already cut and opened like a book.  Mind you, the body was still warm to the touch, so we had just missed it!  Once the kill happens, there are things that have to be done quickly so the meat doesn't spoil.

Being a lifelong carnivore, I am comfortable with meat and where it comes from and how an animal has to die (gasp) to provide me with ribs and bacon and short ribs and bacon and chicken wings and bacon and steaks and bacon.  I typically befriend my local butchers, I know my cuts of meat and can cook proteins quite well, if I do say so myself.  So, I really wanted to see that part of the process.  However, I am sure we will have other opportunities.  Before we came back to Ometepe we were told that fresh pork is available once a week priced at around $2.50 per pound and "one or two pigs in the village will be gone forever."

I didn't promise that my description of the process wouldn't be graphic.  My apologies - I'll try to refrain from going all Stephen King on you.

Anyway, the pig is dead, on the table, one side already opened up, organs exposed.  As we arrived and said our good mornings to everyone, Maykel's mother, Leopaulina, already had some tender bits of pork rubbed down with achiote, a commonly used spice in Latin American cuisine.  Right, John Taylor?  It's tradition to kill the pig and honor the animal right away by consuming part of it for breakfast.  Some tender bits are rubbed with the spice, then grilled and served up with tortillas, gallopinto and strong coffee.

The source of this deliciousness is on a table about 5 feet away

To quote Mr. Kyle Miller:  "Two words:  Yum.  Yum."

Don't bother me, I'm in my happy place.

Freshest pork we've ever eaten!  And delicious!  Before we enjoyed a quick break for desayuno (breakfast), we'd already one a ton of work.  Bex! snapped pictures while I helped Maykel handle the pig.  He did the cutting with a very sharp and well-used knife.  I kept my fingers out the way, my goal being to leave with as many digits as I came with.  

That'll cost you an arm and a leg.

Maykel cut a handle into the rack of ribs.  Wouldn't want to drop them!

In a village this size, word gets around when a family is butchering a pig.  Suffice it to say that ALL of the animal is used in some way.  The blood is drained into a bucket.  Maykel made a few deft slices and the organs all slid into another bucket.  The head was removed and placed in, yes, another bucket.  Maykel and I removed the feet and set them aside.  Leopaulina runs the family restaurant, Pescadito's, out of the house.  She kept the pieces of pork she wanted for her family and the business.  Around 8:30 or so, people started showing up to buy whatever they wanted - meat, head, organs, etc.  

Leopaulina uses a nifty little scale to weigh things out to sell.  It's a bowl attached to three strings and those are tied off to a wooden counterweight.  On top of the counterweight are four short lengths of string,   The strings are about 1/2" apart from one another.  Depending on which string you hold, the scale weighs in .5, 1, 2, and 4 pound amounts.  Yes, the device weighs in pounds (not sure why, here in a metric country).  The target weight is achieved when the counterweight floats up to level.  The picture below shows me weighing a can of corn.

We thought the scale was so cool, we bought one!

One side now removed, the skin and layer of fat is taken off.  We separated the ribs and other cuts and brought them into the kitchen, where Leopaulina sorted them into parts to keep and parts to sell.  Bex! and Carmen started breaking down the skin and fat, slicing it into small pieces.  This all went into a very big pot over the fire near the work table.  The fat renders down into liquid, heats up and fries the pieces of skin into chicharones - known in 'murrica as pork rinds.  The chicharones are used in one of Nicaragua's traditional dishes, vigarón - boiled yucca, shredded cabbage and chicharones, all drizzled with a simple dressing and eaten with one's fingers.

Leopaulina, the wife, Carmen - breaking down pig skin

Cutest carnicera (butcher) in Nicaragua!

Pig skin + pig fat + heat = chicharones

Stirring things to prevent sticking until the fat renders - on the pork, not me

While all this was going on, Maykel and I continued breaking down the carcass.  In Nicaragua, and most of Latin America, animals are not cut into neat little pieces and parts like in the US.  There is no pork loin, pork chops, pork butt, St. louis or baby back ribs.  Any meaty parts are cut into strips like the ones we had for breakfast.  The rest of it gets hacked up with a machete.  Literally.  The bones are chopped up with the meat to release the flavorful marrow when cooked later.  A lot of the meat goes into making the wonderful nacatamales that we absolutely love.

Watch our for flying bones.  Oops - this is the less-graphic part.

The chicharones were bubbling away, the animal was sufficiently broken down, customers were buying fresh pork and passels of pig parts.  We took a break and went home for bit.  Whenever a pig is butchered, nacatamales are made - it's tradition.  We returned later to help make those!

Part II:
The morning was used for cutting up the pig; the afternoon was spent making nacatamales.  We took a break to go home, clean up (seems I had blood, bone, and gristle on my clothes) and then went back to help with food prep and assembly.  Leopaulina had most everything ready.  Maykel washed down the butchering table, which would now be used for the construction of nacatamales.

Where there are banana leaves, there will soon be nacatamales.

I think I described nacatamales in a previous post.  Assembled in this order, all wrapped up in banana leaves:  
- delicious masa - dried corn (freshly ground), lard (from Babe) and spices to give it a bite - this was cooked in the same pot used earlier for the chicharones and required constant stirring by yours truly; resembles polenta.  I may or may not have taste tested a few times.

That's a big bowl of goodness.  Como se dice 'spoon please'?

Uh, er, I was just pointing out how the masa has chiltomas (peppers) in it.

- a blend of cooked rice and diced, boiled potatoes;
- our main attraction, fresh pork; 
- the trifecta of onion, tomato and peppers; 
- a spicy little tomato-based sauce, the recipe for which Leopaulina would not divulge.

The butcher block became the nacatamale assembly line.

All the fixin's for nacatamales

Leopaulina showed us how to assemble these Nica versions of the Hot Pockets and we tried our hand.  The filling part is easy enough - a little of this and that, all piled up.  It's the closing up and tying that is a little tricky.  Our 'boss' had us each make one for us to take home.  We used foil around the leaves to help hold them shut, partly because we folded and wrapped them poorly, partly because we tended to make big ol' fat nacatamales, perhaps going a little overboard with the various fillings.

La Jefe (The Boss) demonstrates how to make a nacatamale

"I'll bet you 50 cordobas the gringo tries to overfill his and we can't close it."

There's room for a little more pork in here, I know it.

After trying to make some regular ones, sans tin foil, we realized we should leave it to the experts and soon fell into a job better suited for us - tying up the little bundles of joy so they stay together while being boiled.  I needed Bex! to hold her finger on the string while I tied the bow part - just like wrapping Christmas presents!

We used strands of dried banana leaves soaked in water to make them pliable

The meat is raw, so these babies are boiled away for three hours or so.  Because it's rough chopped with a machete, there are also pieces of bone.  We've found this to be true with both pork and chicken versions.  So you eat them a little like eating fish - slowly, feeling for bone with your tongue before chowing down.  A small inconvenience for a large amount of yum.

In addition to the two we made for ourselves, we also bought four additional ones.  Believe me, one of these is a meal in itself and with our busy schedule, an easy meal is an even better meal.  To reheat them, you just boil them for 20 minutes or so, unwrap them and enjoy!

Nicaragua 'Hot Pockets'

Okay, folks - that's the end of the feel good, big adventure part of this post.  If you DON'T want to see graphic pics of a pig being butchered, STOP HERE.  For those intrepid souls who are living vicariously through us on our journey, take a look below for a few more photos from the day.

Scroll down lower…



lower…



still lower…



getting warmer.



Last chance to stop!



You've been warned.



Here we go!   

"And so I told the pig, I said 'Hey, pig!  Stick your tongue out at me just one more time.'  I warned him."

Side of the pig, cut along the spine, then folded down to expose insides

Smile!  Say tenderloin!

Check out the piglet to understand why this picture was saved for the explicit section.