Pigs and music (but not music for pigs)

I've been meaning to put this piece up, but as I was less than thrilled with some of the edits it saw in print, I held off for a bit. But if you dig on pig, here's my piece from last week's Ithaca Times in the original, and over at my new favorite toy, muxtape there's a collection of pretty lazy songs, which is kind of what my brain has felt like the past couple days. That Mary Wells song just slays me and if you don't know the Capstan Shafts, the dude is the king of the under two-minute gem and loads of his stuff is available for free in various online places. And yep, that's Ithaca's the Settlers. Now with production! I'm not sure if the new album is supposed to be hush hush, but it needs to be out in the world, wreaking havok soon.

I might post about new stuff before the week is out, since there've been a couple remarkable albums out this month. But first I need to figure out how I feel about the new My Morning Jacket. The key lies in "Highly Suspicious", which you can go download here if you hurry. Is it a joke? Is it deadly serious? Not sure. I can tell you the new Silver Jews, Bonnie Prince Billy and Fleet Foxes are all lovely and make for good headphone fodder on a summer day.

On to the pigs!


This Little Piggery Went to Trumansburg

It’s spring, when a young man’s fancy turns to pork. Well, mine at least. Blame it on growing up in Buffalo, the easternmost outpost of the Midwest and a city that loves meat. After moving away, I was horrified to learn people thought they could have a barbeque without the inclusion of kielbasa or brats. There aren’t many things I miss about Cheektowaga, but the availability of great sausage is one of them. Oh, and my family. Them too.

So it was with trepidation I first approached the Piggery’s booth at the Ithaca Farmer’s Market. Proprietors Brad and Heather Sanford were friendly and eager to tell me about sustainability and the humane treatment of their hogs, but the proof is in the casing. An hour, two links and a dash of mustard later, I was drafting an evangelical email to friends and acquaintances, urging them to get themselves to the Piggery.

Lips and Otto (von Bismarck)

Off the grid in the outskirts of Trumansburg, Brad and Heather maintain a seventy-acre farm. As I pulled up the drive, scanning the pastures, I spotted a sheep lazing near a shed that looked like something out of the Smurf village, along with some good-looking chickens and myriad pieces of farm equipment. But, oddly, no pigs. I went around the back of the house and let myself into the basement kitchen where Brad and Heather were grinding meat for sausage.

Otto von Bismarck famously opined that “Laws are like sausages: it is better not to see them being made.” In this case, Otto was more on the mark with the former than the latter. In most states, USDA regulations make it nearly impossible to run a commercial kitchen in your home. That same set of regulations limits the seasoning that can be used in sausage, while saying little about the meat content. This allows larger sausage making companies to dominate the market with low quality product. Luckily, New York State allows Brad and Heather to operate in-house under the same codes as a restaurant kitchen.

The small kitchen was sparsely fitted out with two coolers,both full, a three-bay sink and an old chamber stove, a 1950’s throwback known for fuel efficiency. “One of the things people usually ask is, ‘Where’s your equipment?’” Heather told me, but all of the production is done with a simple hand grinder and a manual device for packing the sausage into its casings. I scoped out the hopper of the grinder to see what was going into the sausage, half expecting the mix of lips and assholes we fear are in our processed meats. Instead, I saw healthy chunks of meat with of fresh garlic and herbs. There might be lips and assholes involved in law making, but there were none in this sausage.

Pigs and their cellulite have gotten caught up in an unfortunate political analogy, wherein anything unnecessary and harmful to a legislative bill is branded “pork barrel”. Once a staple of the American diet, pork fell into disfavor due to its relatively high fat content. The result was two-fold: the price of pork plummeted and pork farmers moved toward leaner animals, producing pork chops that had all the gustatory appeal of a hockey puck. Even a dosing of Shake-and-Bake can’t conceal that without the fat, pork cooks up dry and flavorless. As Brad wrapped up a set of pork chops each roughly the size of my head, he pointed at the inch of fat girding each one. “That’s where all the vitamins are,” he assured me. “All the good stuff.”


Brad and Heather Bought the Farm

Just goes to show, your Cornell degree doesn’t dictate your destiny. Brad and Heather both graduated from Cornell with degrees in genetics and engineering, respectively, but ended up in New York City, with Brad attending the French Culinary Institute and Heather working in the record industry. About four years ago, they moved back to the Finger Lakes to take on “some sort of agricultural thing.” Originally planning to start up a hard cider orchard, they ended up purchasing their first couple pigs.

This is their first year of regular production and sales, but Brad and Heather have been busy in the interim. They’ve been building, trying out recipes and learning the finer points of pig husbandry, setting up their operation with an eye towards sustainability; the house and the kitchen run almost entirely off wind and solar power generated on the farm.

While Heather played with the punk band Trabant, whose single “Fascism is Sexy” was chosen as the theme song for a French children’s show, Brad hit up the Culinary Institute for a refresher course and has devoured every available book on chaucetuerie. Brad said 18th century books are the most helpful while modern books are pretty boring. “Feed them soy and some corn and they’ll be fine,” seemed to be the attitude of most texts, he said, dismissing texts intended for much larger farms. With the increased demand for corn for use in ethanol production, grain prices have gone up nearly seventy percent from last year, encouraging Brad and Heather to form partnerships with local growers while looking for alternative methods of feeding their pigs. Brad described using the pigs as plows, spreading barley and oats in with the larger grain feed so the pigs plant the next generation of their food while eating. Some of the plants were already sprouting and would soon provide a dietary supplement for the hogs.

Meet the Pigs
Pig aren’t as diverse as dog, but there are a number of distinct heirloom breeds. Chunkette, for instance, would chafe at being called simply a pig, since she is, in fact, a Mulefoot hog: a rare breed nearly bred out of existence due to changes in the agricultural market. The Piggery is also raising a number of half Tamworths, larger pigs with thick, bristly auburn hair, better suited for colder environments. But standard, pinkish Yorkshires (think Babe and Wilbur) are also well represented: one of the pastures was teeming with them, lazing about under a simple shelter, chomping on grass and goading Brad and Heather to play with them.

The idea of pigs wallowing in crap and eating whatever they’re slopped with is more of a judgment on how they’re traditionally raised than their natural habits. Given a little room to run, pasture and play, pigs are, in fact, kind of adorable. Contemplating whether or not I could keep one as a pet in my apartment, I asked Heather and Brad if they ever had trouble serving up animals they’d raised from infancy. She shrugged a little and told me they’d just had “one of our moms” in the kitchen the previous week. “But I guess I’ve come to terms with it,” she told me. “It’s all part of a circle of life thing.”