Pastured_PIg
[dropcap_1]U[/dropcap_1]ntil we started raising our own livestock, I was the girl buying bags of boneless chicken breasts and two-pound slabs of bacon. Throw in a tube of anonymous ground beef every now and then and that was about the extent of my animal protein prowess.
What can I say? I was in my early 20s and on a wild and dangerous path.
It was only when we started birthing, growing and slaughtering animals on the farm that I began to know, love and respect all the whole beast has to offer. I suspect this will be a lifelong process. And a delicious one.
BUT!!! If you’re anything like I was the first time we received a box from the butcher, you’re likely looking at some of this stuff with fear and mistrust. If you’re not, well good on you. You are a far more seasoned and capable human being than I was.
As our Good Meat Family grows faster than we can put names with faces, I probably shouldn’t assume everybody eats like a farmer. Best not to abandon you with cold meat and zero instructions. How cruel. In the next couple weeks we'll go through the typical cuts of one of our quarter shares and hit a few of the highlights for our favorite practices and procedures here in the farm kitchen.
Many ideas originate from my more culinarily advanced customers, so PLEASE, if you have submissions, share with us. Hearing about how you try something new, about how you prepare Six Buckets pork, about how our pigs become part of a family dinner or a night with friends … this is what sustains your farmer. Unlike most humans, my energy is derived 90 percent from tags of meat photos on Facebook. Anyone can pick up a pork chop at the grocery store, overcook it on a pan before rushing off to whatever, but there’s more to life than that, isn't’ there? At least every once in a while. What a glorious time to be alive! What a glorious, glorious time!
Wait. What were we talking about? Right. Pork parts.
Let’s start with the most foreign object, shall we? Winner of “What the hell have you brought into my home?” on days the Hambulance invades your neighborhood. That’s right. That Big Ol’ TUB O LARD.