![\"\"](\"https:\/\/blog.vera.es\/cultura\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/2\/2024\/11\/Imagen-propiedad-de-Maria-Jesus-Cazorlla-Nunez.1-210x300.jpg\")
<\/a><\/p>\nImagen propiedad de Mar\u00eda Jes\u00fas Cazorla N\u00fa\u00f1ez<\/span><\/p>\nLas mantecas que \u201cforraban\u201d interiormente su vientre se desprend\u00edan de este y se separaban con una ca\u00f1a quedando el animal abierto en canal, evitando el contacto entre s\u00ed para impedir que tomaran un olor caracter\u00edstico de resultado poco agradable.<\/span><\/p>\nAntes del reparto de la cata se hab\u00edan entripado los embutidos: las morcillas se coc\u00edan en una caldera, previamente lustrada con arenilla, y colocada sobre un tr\u00e9bedes, que en esta zona llam\u00e1bamos estrebes, por deformaci\u00f3n de la palabra (algo que en nuestra tierra hacemos frecuentemente). <\/span><\/p>\nEl d\u00eda siguiente, muy de ma\u00f1ana, y tras la correspondiente copa de an\u00eds, proced\u00edan al despiece del pobre \u201cMorillo\u201d, que hab\u00eda permanecido toda la noche colgado del camal esperando ser convertido en el alimento de varios meses, aunque la duraci\u00f3n, l\u00f3gicamente, depend\u00eda del n\u00famero de miembros de la familia. <\/span><\/p>\nEste segundo d\u00eda era todo un emblema de la matanza y uno de los momentos m\u00e1s esperados: LAS MIGAS. En una sart\u00e9n gigantesca la harina era removida constantemente hasta quedar bien desgranada, abri\u00e9ndose un hueco en el centro para albergar los \u201ctropezones\u201d (tocino frito, h\u00edgado y morcilla troceados, pimientos y trozos de carne magra) que se cubr\u00edan y mezclaban con las migas recuperando el calor que hab\u00edan perdido en la espera. A partir de ah\u00ed, como una mesa redonda, todos estaban dispuestos para, poniendo una nota de humor, \u201cmeter la cuchara y dar un paso atr\u00e1s\u201d, como qued\u00f3 acu\u00f1ada la frase; de no cumplir esa condici\u00f3n, era tal el n\u00famero de comensales que, pese al gran tama\u00f1o de la sart\u00e9n, no todos se <\/span>h<\/span>abr\u00edan podido acercar al calor de la migas y al sabor de los tropezones. <\/span><\/p>\nOtro momento inevitable de la matanza era el reparto de la cata ofrecida a amigos y allegados que, generalmente, consist\u00eda en un trozo de tocino, un par de morcillas y un hueso de espinazo; de ello, nos ocup\u00e1bamos los m\u00e1s peque\u00f1os, que siempre mostr\u00e1bamos inter\u00e9s en entregar las catas porque, con frecuencia, ten\u00eda su recompensa en forma de algunas pesetas, que siempre ven\u00edan bien.<\/span><\/p>\nEra el d\u00eda en el que los m\u00e1s peque\u00f1os nos convert\u00edamos en \u201chombrecillos en pr\u00e1cticas\u201d porque la buena posici\u00f3n econ\u00f3mica que nos proporcionaban las propinas, y los cigarros que intent\u00e1bamos fumarnos hechos con papel de estraza y rellenos de matalauva, nos hac\u00edan sentir importantes. Digo bien al decir \u201cintent\u00e1bamos\u201d porque aquello que aspir\u00e1bamos nos produc\u00eda una tos que nos imposibilitaba seguir aspirando de aquel cigarro infernal, que bien podr\u00eda recibir el nombre de \u201csustancia nociva\u201d. Como es l\u00f3gico, se nos negaba la copa de an\u00eds pero, de manera furtiva, \u201cdisfrut\u00e1bamos\u201d o, mejor dicho, sufr\u00edamos aquel cochambroso cigarro. Todo fuera por la hombr\u00eda de unos minutos. <\/span><\/p>\nCon el despiece de jamones, paletillas, lomo, espinazo\u2026, conclu\u00eda la matanza a la que en muchas ocasiones se le pon\u00eda fin definitivamente con un \u201carroz por dentro\u201d o una olla de col, ya sentados a la mesa: de uno u otro plato daban buena cuenta los participantes de tan laboriosa faena. <\/span><\/p>\n(Mi agradecimiento a D. Pedro Contreras Salas por la informaci\u00f3n facilitada; sin ella, buen n\u00famero de los datos que aqu\u00ed narro no habr\u00eda podido aportarlos) <\/span><\/p>\nVera, 11-11-2024<\/span><\/p>\nGabriel Flores Garrido<\/span><\/p>\n
\nLA MATANZA DEL CERDO. (THE SLAUGHTER OF THE PIG.)<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/h1>\nGABRIEL FLORES GARRIDO<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/h1>\n\u201cTo those who saw it, but have forgotten it; to those who could not witness it, but are curious to know what it would be like and to those who will no longer be able to know it because it is no longer used or prohibited\u201d<\/b><\/p>\nGABRIEL FLORES GARRIDO<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/h1>\nOfficial Chronicler of Vera<\/b><\/span><\/span><\/h1>\nI don’t know of any animal that, like the pig, arouses so much controversy when it comes to deciding whether or not it should be treated as food. On the one hand, for Western civilization, its meat and entrails are almost an object of veneration, to the point of being treated as a \u00abfood delicacy.\u00bb However, Eastern culture, especially Jews and Muslims, prohibit their consumption and, in many cases, even feel rejection for touching them, considering them an impure animal. If we were to establish a food segment, we could place its meat at the two extremes: on one side there would be those who claim that pigs can be used \u00abeven their gait\u00bb (perhaps referring to their hooves, the protagonists of exquisite dishes) and, on the other, those who do not want to have any contact because of the relationship they establish between the animal and the contaminated and murky character they attribute to it.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n– Monument to the Pig in La Alberca, Salamanca –<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/h1>\nIn this commentary or chronicle we will discuss what affects us most closely and, therefore, is closest to our customs and culture.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\nPerhaps many of those who have begun to read this \u201cpig chronicle\u201d will wonder why. The reason is none other than the dates we are living in; it is true that in this month of November there are two other events of great significance that could be dealt with in important chronicles: one of a general nature such as All Saints’ Day, in addition to the dedication and remembrance of our deceased, and another of a more local scope such as the destruction of Vera by the devastating earthquake of November 9, 1518; both have been talked about at length and at length, so I have opted for an image and custom that are already lost and from which, in addition, I will try to remember and learn, although I hope that nostalgia does not harm my spirit or that of those who lived through those already lost moments, and that these lines will force them to look back to a point that is already so far away.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\nSt. Martin’s Day (November 11th) has always been considered the opening of the pig slaughter season, although it depended on the area and, especially, on how cold it was and how long the low temperatures lasted. Pigs had been fattened up all year long so that they would be family food for a long time; in fact, there are numerous proverbs referring to the date, including one of them: \u00abevery pig has its St. Martin’s Day\u00bb, with a malicious double intention that everyone knows how to unfold depending on who they are talking to and the reason at that moment.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\nIt is true that sometimes a reason for joy and celebration for some is a misfortune for others; I think that the slaughter of the pig is one of the clearest examples.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\nI remember the days of slaughter as something extraordinary, very different from the rest of the year. The day began early with the men who were going to participate in the \u201cslaughter\u201d around a bottle of anise, to have a drink that was already part of the ritual and seemed essential before rolling up their sleeves to begin the rite.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n– Butcher’s knife owned by Pedro Contreras Salas. Early 20th century –<\/span><\/h2>\nNot many minutes had passed before the pig’s grunting could be heard as it tried to escape from the hands that, like pincers, grabbed it by any part of its body in order to lift it onto the table and, once on top, tie it up so that the butcher could do his job more comfortably and safely, although I don’t think the poor animal cared much about either one thing or the other, and if they had had the capacity to think, they certainly wouldn’t have spent a second trying to make the job easier for the person who was going to slaughter it. Vera has had good and accurate butchers; it’s not something to boast about, but if we look at it from the point of view that whoever was grunting on that table was going to serve to alleviate the food needs of a good number of countrymen, we would probably see it from a different perspective.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\nUntil then, the pig had lived a placid life: eating, sleeping and eating again was its life cycle.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n– Morillo. Our protagonist –<\/b><\/span><\/p>\nIn a house on the lower part of Calle de la Plata my family fattened some pigs that my father almost \u201chumanized\u201d to the point of giving them names. I remember with special \u201chumor and tenderness\u201d \u201cFelipe\u201d and \u201cMorillo\u201d; I don\u2019t know why they had their names, but, in addition to having their own names, he would take them for a walk along the lower part of the street and walk with them to where the Santander bank is today. There he would chat for a while with \u201cUncle Juan\u201d, a guard who was on the property that is today the Alcan\u00e1 housing estate, while the pigs patiently sniffed the ground until, once the conversation between my father and the guard was over, they would slowly return home. We will use \u201cMorillo\u201d as the sad and sacrificed protagonist of this chronicle.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\nAs I say, for about a year, if my memory serves me right, everything was placid, happy and a good life for the piglets; so good was it for them that, on occasions, they reached 200 kilos or even exceeded that.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\nApproximately two weeks before, the spices or \u201crecao\u201d were bought, a term that I did not know; this was the name given to the mixture of paprika, thyme, etc. that had to be cleaned beforehand because they usually came with small stones, which were hidden with the spice itself to increase its weight and thus make a greater profit from its sale. The Spanish picaresque is always present.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\nWhen the day of the slaughter arrived, everything was very different for the pig, its pleasant life was coming to an end: the aforementioned table was placed in the middle of the street. Four or five men, once they had caught \u201cMorillo\u201d (to whom we have already assigned the role of \u201cmain actor\u201d), held him tightly by the tail, another by the snout once tied to avoid bites, and two others by some of the legs, ears or wherever they could grab onto. It was not an easy task because the animal fought, kicked and thrashed around vigorously trying to free itself from what it seemed to suspect. Its agitation increased in intensity and strength when it felt the knife at its throat and, shortly after, the kicking began to diminish as the blood flowed from its neck and was collected in a basin while they stirred it slowly, thus preventing it from curdling and forming a skein, as they called the strands that formed. The collected blood was used to stuff blood sausages and sausages. There was a belief that if this task of stirring the blood was carried out by women who were menstruating, not only the blood sausages but the entire slaughter would be ruined.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n– Scalding the pig. Image by Helios. Property of Sebita Flores. –<\/span><\/p>\nThose minutes, which today seem to us, and are, of a cruelty beyond all doubt, were witnessed by a row of children who, sitting on the sidewalk, watched in astonishment, I imagine due to a mixture of fear and surprise, with their eyes open without blinking, and without looking anywhere but the inert body of the poor animal, which was being scalded with boiling water so that, once shaved, the bark of its skin could be used. I suppose that if we children had any capacity for surprise left, we would lose it when we saw the poor animal being scalded by putting us on its skin (this expression will rarely be better used); although, on the other hand, it could not matter much to \u201cMorillo\u201d now that he was doused with boiling water, his suffering was already over.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\nThe pig was hung upside down from a crossbar made of olive wood, usually called a \u00abcamal\u00bb, which was held in place by what in human anatomy would correspond to the Achilles tendon. In this position, its belly was opened to extract viscera, guts and other remains, because everything is used in the anatomy of a pig. Samples of its meat were taken from different points of its body, which the veterinarian analysed in order to avoid the transmission of some disease, especially trichinosis, which, although not inevitably fatal, can sometimes be. The taking of samples and their analysis gave rise to thieving, especially in slaughters carried out in farmhouses and remote places, where the fact did not come to the attention of the veterinarian: there was always the occasional scoundrel who threatened to tell if he did not receive compensation (again, Spanish roguery put into practice).<\/span><\/span><\/p>\nThe fat that \u00ablined\u00bb the inside of its belly was removed and separated with a cane, leaving the animal open, avoiding contact with each other to prevent them from acquiring a characteristic odor that would be unpleasant.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\nBefore the tasting was distributed, the sausages had been stuffed: the blood sausages were cooked in a cauldron, previously polished with sand, and placed on a trivet, which in this area we called estrebes, due to the deformation of the word (something that we frequently do in our land).<\/span><\/span><\/p>\nThe next day, very early in the morning, and after the corresponding glass of anise, they proceeded to cut up the poor \u00abMorillo\u00bb, who had remained hanging from the slaughterhouse all night waiting to be converted into food for several months, although the duration, logically, depended on the number of members of the family.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\nThis second day was a symbol of the slaughter and one of the most anticipated moments: THE MIGAS. In a gigantic frying pan, the flour was constantly stirred until it was well crumbled, opening a hole in the centre to house the \u201ctropezones\u201d (fried bacon, liver and blood sausage cut into pieces, peppers and pieces of lean meat) that were covered and mixed with the migas, recovering the heat they had lost while waiting. From there, like a round table, everyone was ready to, adding a touch of humour, \u201cput the spoon in and take a step back\u201d, as the phrase was coined; if this condition was not met, there was such a number of diners that, despite the large size of the pan, not everyone would have been able to get close to the heat of the migas and the flavour of the trompones.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\nAnother unavoidable moment of the slaughter was the distribution of the sample offered to friends and relatives, which generally consisted of a piece of bacon, a couple of blood sausages and a spine bone; we, the youngest, were in charge of this, and we always showed interest in handing out the samples because, frequently, it was rewarded with a few pesetas, which always came in handy. Another unavoidable moment of the slaughter was the distribution of the sample offered to friends and relatives, which generally consisted of a piece of bacon, a couple of blood sausages and a spine bone; we, the youngest, were in charge of this, and we always showed interest in handing out the samples because, frequently, it was rewarded with a few pesetas, which always came in handy.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\nIt was the day when we, the youngest, became \u201clittle men in training\u201d because the good economic position that the tips provided us, and the cigarettes that we tried to smoke made of brown paper and filled with matalauva, made us feel important. I say \u201ctried\u201d because what we were inhaling made us cough, making it impossible for us to continue inhaling that infernal cigarette, which could well be called a \u201cnoxious substance\u201d. Naturally, we were denied the glass of aniseed, but, in a furtive way, we \u201cenjoyed\u201d or, better said, suffered that filthy cigarette. Anything for the manliness of a few minutes.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\nWith the cutting up of hams, shoulders, loins, spines, etc., the slaughter concluded, which on many occasions was definitively ended with a \u201crice inside\u201d or a pot of cabbage, already seated at the table: the participants of such a laborious task thoroughly enjoyed one or another dish.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n(My thanks to Mr. Pedro Contreras Salas for the information provided; without it, I would not have been able to provide much of the data I describe here)<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
\u201cA los que lo vieron, pero lo tienen olvidado; a los que no lo pudieron presenciar, pero sienten la curiosidad de saber c\u00f3mo ser\u00eda y a los que ya no podr\u00e1n conocerlo por estar en desuso o prohibido\u201d<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":7,"featured_media":5294,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[20,181,183],"tags":[100,406,318],"class_list":["post-5287","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-colaboraciones","category-curiosidades","category-etnologia","tag-gabriel-flores-garrido","tag-matanza-del-cerdo","tag-pedro-contreras-salas"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/blog.vera.es\/cultura\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/5287","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/blog.vera.es\/cultura\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/blog.vera.es\/cultura\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blog.vera.es\/cultura\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/7"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blog.vera.es\/cultura\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=5287"}],"version-history":[{"count":9,"href":"https:\/\/blog.vera.es\/cultura\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/5287\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":5327,"href":"https:\/\/blog.vera.es\/cultura\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/5287\/revisions\/5327"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blog.vera.es\/cultura\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/5294"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/blog.vera.es\/cultura\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=5287"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blog.vera.es\/cultura\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=5287"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blog.vera.es\/cultura\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=5287"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
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