It’s Hog Killin’ Time

“November will keep its own meat” is an old saying I’ve heard my folks make many times.  However, in this day and age I’m not sure that would hold true.  That saying meant the weather was cold enough to preserve the meat, but today we have so many warm days — if I had fresh meat I’d worry about it.

When we killed hogs everything in the house was greasy — doorknobs and all.  A day or two ahead of time my daddy would move the black wash pot to a location under the big red oak that used to stand here in the yard and haul in firewood with which to boil the water.  The morning of the big to do, the men folks would go to the hog pen and slaughter the hog — shooting was the method used.  Then he was dragged up to the work location, laid on a ground slide or some kind of wood.  Then he was doused with scalding water. Butcher knives were used to scrap the hair off and dull knives were best as sharp knives shaved rather than scraped.  Next by the hind legs he was hoisted so the body was hanging (head down) from a tree limb.  Then the head was cut off and the belly split so the entrails could be removed.  I used to have a friend whose uncle (from Germany) wanted to be present when they killed hogs — he would catch the warm blood and drink it.

Hog killing was a mammoth job and usually some of the neighbors came in to help.  The hog had to be cut into parts — shoulders, hams and middlings, etc.  In our case the shoulders and middlings were put in salt in a meat box that stayed in the smokehouse.  As for hams, Mother made a concoction with black pepper and sugar to rub the warm hams with and then she sewed clean fertilizer sacks around them before they were hung high up in the smokehouse.

Lots of the fat was cut in small pieces (and had the skin removed) and put in the wash pot (with the water now drained) and the lard was cooked out (rendered).  This was a slow process as it was easy to scorch.  The fire had to be adjusted to keep it cooking at the right temperature.  When the lard was done, it was dipped up and stored in buckets (with lids) to be used for the next year.  The remaining pieces of fat meat were the cracklings which could be used to make delicious crackling bread.

Another big job was to cut up the trimmings used for sausage and then somebody had to turn the handle on the sausage mill to grind the meat into sausage.  Many folks canned the sausage after it had the seasoning added, but my mother made little sacks and we packed the sausage in them and they were hung from the ceiling  joists on the back porch. They were just the right size around for a patty and when she was ready to use them could use a sharp butcher knife and just slice off the right amount to fry.

Tenderloin was a special piece of meat and was usually used without delay and on the morning after all this had taken place, my daddy and I enjoyed brains and eggs for breakfast.  Today I can’t stand to even think of eating that.

Children could inflate the bladder with air and play ball with it if there was any free time. but one day was as long as the ball lasted.

It’s just a few of the November memories from a time gone by with that style of country living.