The 10 best ways to eat a pig
Some people don’t eat this stuff for various religious reasons and others just don’t like it, but to absolutely everyone else pork is both the greatest roast and your most versatile friend in the kitchen. A fact that leads seamlessly to this list of ways to enjoy dining on your regular household pig that aren’t simply roasting the gorgeous little fucker…
Next time you’re slaughtering and butchering a pig in your bath don’t prod the leftover fat down the plughole with a stick, collect it in an old bucket, cook it in a hot oven until it morphs into a hairy crisp, then pop it into a branded bag and sell it to punters in pubs at a massive profit.
This has taken a while to travel across the Atlantic on a steam boat but now you can barely move for places demanding that you try some of their tasty slow-cooked pork shoulders which have been expertly shredded with a pair of forks. I like to eat mine from a bap, but some people like it on its own in a tin bowl with a glass of fresh beer from a vintage gherkin jar.
Back in pre-sausage times butcher’s shops used to reach 3pm and the bins would be brimming with pig feet, knuckles, penises and vaginas and bumholes. Now, thankfully, we have them as sausages.
Sliced thinly directly from the pig’s buttocks or from its back or sometimes from its belly if you’re aiming for the delicious streaky variety, bacon is as versatile as Daley Thompson and as good at disguises as Mr Ben – you can have it on cheeseburgers, with eggs, alone on its own, you can even combine it with salad from your garden to make a BLT.
Sweet and Sour Pork Balls
I try not to get too sentimental about food because otherwise we’d be here all day, but the first time I dipped a battered pork ball from my local Chinese into a pot of sauce made from volcanic lava mixed with old chunks of icing sugar and put it in my mouth I immediately started weeping for two reasons. Firstly because it was the most delicious thing I’d ever eaten. Secondly because I no longer had any skin on the roof of my mouth and I was in a lot of pain.
As the babyish poem goes: this little piggy went to market, this little piggy stayed at home, this little had roast beef, and this little piggy had its blood drained from its body then mixed with oatmeal and other spices.
During the Enlightenment great thinkers used to sit around biting into pork pies while they embarked on deep inward journeys of self-discovery, so now whenever I bite into one while alone I salute those old philosophers. I like mine with pickle.
Dating back to the very dawn of time, the hog roast involves a guy murdering a pig then skewering it on a big pole before cooking it on an open fire in front of a field of other pigs like it’s a scene from the Wicker Man.
If you’re looking at a pig head-on and want to know where the ham is, just lower your head slightly and tilt your eyes to peer at the legs. It’s all in there, around it’s strong thighs and lean hairless calves. Ideally I take my ham in between two bits of white bread with a big smear of Colman’s English.
Ribs are a world of fun, partly because they taste absolutely delicious but also because you have no choice but to pick them up with your bare hands and then gnaw and devour them like a hungry caveman.
Any more for any more?