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At
the end of a day of herding the hog(s), then all the lifting, hanging,
scraping, cutting, chopping and sawing that goes along with the job, a
person will be blessed with the fruits of the day’s labor: hams,
shoulders, chops, loin, ribs, bacon, meat for sausage, hocks and jowls.
But that’s barely half the critter and doesn’t touch on other organs
and appendages that some people consider most delectable.
For
instance, at breakfast, it’s hard to beat brains and eggs. To me, this
chewy treat tastes like scrambled eggs with a hint of mild sausage.
Ketchup is the condiment of choice for such a breakfast. Some folks
insist that eating brains will make you smarter. You need to meet
several people who eat brains on a regular basis before making that
determination.
You
can make gelatin from their hooves that can be used, along with meat
that’s boiled from the skull and a little spice and vinegar, to make
souse (head cheese). This manna from heaven with its occasional course
snout hair, is a perfect spring or summer shade tree lunch when
complimented with saltines and a cold RC cola. Souse should not be
allowed to warm to room temperature. I remember on a couple of
occasions, the electricity going out a Bard’s Grocery early in the
evening after closing and things warming up in the meat cooler. Most
everything could be salvaged the next day except for the souse. This
precast, rubber-like block that had been shaken from its mold for
display on a refrigerated rack would become an animated chunky goo that
crawled into every crevice of the meat box. The store’s cat wouldn’t
even touch it.
If
not used in souse, ears, snouts, tails, and bones can be used in soup or
to flavor a pot of beans. Stomachs (maws) can hold blood sausage or be
used as a container for other meat and vegetable baked dishes. Skin can
be used to make crackling for a snack food, crackling cornbread or
deep-fried to make puffy pork rinds.
Then
there are the ever-popular pickled pig’s feet. To eat a pickled pig’s
foot properly, getting to all the little pieces of meat and cartilage
that clings to the two dozen or more bones, can take the better part of
an hour. Pig lips, snouts and tails can also be pickled.
Most
animal intestines are considered to be a type of offal (some might say
awful) that should be buried or otherwise disposed of. But swine
intestines can be used to make sausage casings or cooked as an
ingredient in some other dishes. There is even a special group of pork
aficionados who insist that this part of a swine’s digestive system
should be offered straight up as an entree, either boiled, fried or
sometime grilled, accompanied with only a little nerve and some hot
sauce. Chitlins, as they are called, are not for the faint of palate or
smell. It is said that when cooking chitlins in a kitchen even the
houseflies try to escape. You can turn the things inside out and scrub
and soak for as long as you and several of your best and strongest
friends can and you can’t reform a chitlin. They are what they are.
This
is a chitlin story. There are few country people who don’t have at
least one.
It
was after the War in the late 40s and there was a boon in agriculture.
With the era came better machines, new varieties of crops and livestock,
better fertilizer, new pest control and better irrigation techniques.
Along with these innovations came something that was alien to most
people who made their living off the land, more leisure time.
The
Dixie Farm Baseball League was born and teams from different districts
traveled all over the South vying for various Southern Division
pennants. Joe Trice played for a Missouri team that came to our county
seat. Joe was a comedian who would point his bat, like Babe Ruth, toward
a cotton field either behind right or left field and then bunt, hit a
grounder or a line drive. He’d run to first then do somersaults while
the pitcher wasn’t looking. He’d slide into base as fast as he
could, head first, when there was absolutely no reason. Even though they
trounced our poor boys, people learned to like Joe in the few days he
was there. Apparently he liked our town too because, soon after the
season ended, he came back.
Road
construction was going on everywhere, and it just so happened Joe had
built roads in the South Pacific during the War and immediately got a
job on the state road crew. He played ball on the local team after work
and on weekends.
Most
everybody Joe worked with or played ball with ate chitlins. Chitlin
cookings were often a multi-family or community event. Thanksgiving,
Christmas, New Year’s Day, birthdays, baptisms and even weddings were
often followed with a big chitlin eating.
Joe
was not a country boy. He was from St. Louis. He had used hog entrails
like livers and kidneys for bait while fishing in the Mississippi River
but had never considered putting such things in his own mouth.
At
some gathering, I think they said it was the grand opening of the Five
and Dime, Joe finally succumbed to peer pressure and had some fried
chitlins. His new friends assured him that the innards of which he was
about to partake had been thoroughly washed and scrubbed and not just
pounded over a fallen tree or telegraph pole and rinsed (stump slung or
stump whooped) like he’d heard of people doing. He found that chitlins
weren’t near as bad as he expected. In fact, they were down right
tasty!
A
couple of weekends later, under a neighbor’s tractor shed, Joe would
take the next chitlin challenge– boiled. He found, at first, the
texture to be a little objectionable, but soon got the hang of it. As he
started to get up for his third serving, a buddy patted him on the
shoulder and told him to keep his seat while he fetched him more. In Joe’s
empty plate a half-handful of corn chops was placed then covered with
the boiled glop. A few minutes later, just as ol’ Joe ate down to the
corn, the same buddy leaned down and whispered, "stump
whooped."
That
winter, Joe became a vegetarian.
Disclaimer: The story you just read is based on reality. The names have been changed to protect the innocent. Any likeness any character in this story has to you, your family or anybody you know or have known is completely coincidental.
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