Wednesday, April 2, 2014
It is always sad when something dies. Even when you know from the very beginning that they are, in fact, there to die. On the otherhand though, it is a happy thing to eat home-grown pulled pork :)
On Saturday we butchered two of the pigs. Butchering pigs has become sort of an annual, family event. A dreaded adventure that makes me feel like I'm living a chapter of Little House on the Prairie. This time around dad and Keith did the gory work - I'll spare you the details as I'm sure you can picture it anyways. Us girls did the finer cutting and the packing. The task is a bit daunting but we get through it because we have latex gloves.
As you can see, we don't bust out the technical names for the cuts of meat. We call them how they shall be cooked. It's a system that works for us :)