Life Rule No. 173: If someone offers you the chance to co-own a pig - bite their arm off.
It's a simple life rule, and it's one that I both hold to, and have been able to put into practice recently. I accept it doesn't happen often, but I like to be prepared for such offers.
Ever since my dad haggled for my first Fearnley-Whittingstall hardback at Portobello Road market 6 years ago, I have dreamed of rearing livestock for food. The Meat Book is without doubt the carnivore's bible, and second only to the Holy Bible it happens to be my favourite read of all time. Covered with burns, splatters, dents and tears, its place close to my heart is plain for all to see - and it's a well earned place at that. This is a book that from the outset forced me to get to grips with the following undeniable truths (however uncomfortable they may be):
a) Delicious meat comes from dead animals - not from supermarket counters.
b) Animals are beautiful and wonderful and should be treated with respect.
c) It's my responsibility to make sure the meat I buy/eat comes from animals that have had a good life and who have been treated well.
d) Lambs testicles are edible.
I find it astonishing how easy it is to totally distance ourselves today from the reality of where our meat comes from. Even as a Somerset boy, surrounded by farms and with fond memories of frequent visits to the local cattle market as a lad, I found it possible to avoid the true reality of meat production throughout childhood and well into my twenties. However since reading Hugh's finest, along with a whole host of other books, I've now become passionate about the meat I eat, and the quality of life the animal that's provided it for me has lived.
Today I ate Bramley the cockerel.
He was a handsome bird that I helped hatch out of his egg 6 months ago. (Life Rule 68: Keep Chickens). But I raised him for meat, and yesterday I asked my friend IJT to help me kill/pluck and gut the bird ready for the dinner table. Bramley had lived a great life, proudly strutting his stuff in my garden for the best part of half a year. He was killed quickly and cleanly, dressed and prepared before being roasted with oil, lemon, garlic and herbs. The whole process definitely wasn't enjoyable- I don't think killing anything should be - but it was hugely satisfying.
And so now I know what it's like. The time, the cost, and the reality of a living, breathing, substantial animal, being killed and providing meat for me, my family and friends. Not easy. But undeniably delicious - a carnivore I remain. The Meat Book is a non-mover in the official book charts of my life.
Other life rules include:
No. 12: Own a VW Campervan.
No. 73: Always Turn Simply Red off the Radio/TV.
No. 896: Do the Occasional Forward Role just to Remind oneself of Primary School.
But for now it's Life Rule No. 173 that's come into play.
And so IJT no longer has an arm, and I have blog.
The story of The Pigs of Pengotten starts now.
