It's worth taking a moment to look back at the last week, to see what lessons can be learnt for next time. Which, weather depending, won't be too far off. (Vegetarians and vegans click away from the screen... now.)
Tuesday
A friend came round in the morning after school drop-off and shot the pig. I ran over and bled the pig straight away, so I knew she was gone quickly. (Backing up a second, I had thanked the pig for what she was about to give us before my friend shot her, which made the whole process - spiritually and ethically - much easier.)
Almost immediately, we realised how heavy she was. (Lesson here: Another person or two would be useful for pigs over, say, 60kg. She was probably over 80kg.)
In the tractor shed, we had huge difficulty hanging the pig up. Again, the weight issue. (Lesson: I must install a pulley system before the next pig.)
My friend was very busy, so I skinned and gutted the pig on my own, which took a surprisingly long time. I then had to lift two halves of pig above my head to hang to cool. I don't need to mention the weight again, but let's say I was pretty tired by lunchtime, around 2.30pm. (Oh, lesson: A proper butcher's saw would be handy - it takes a while to cut through bones with a hacksaw.)
Wednesday
The weather suddenly started warming, so I butchered half of the pig. Just taking the side off the hook in the tractor shed reminded me how tired I was already. I was planning on butchering both halves, but this first half took longer than I hoped. (This happens with most things around here. It's been mentioned more than once that I have an unrealistic way of looking at time. A clever person could probably write an equation for it.)
Her Outdoors made pate while this was going on and I listened to a lot of Radio 4 (the News Quiz - superb - Sandi Toksvig - like a female Stephen Fry, only funnier). We also roasted bones for the dog, who is fussy about eating them raw.
In the evening, I decided to look for butchery videos on youtube and found the link in the previous post (see below). (Lesson for me: See, you're not allergic to research.)
Thursday
Butchered the other half of the pig much faster, thanks to those videos. Already started looking forward to cooking ribs at the weekend. Almost forgot the head, but took off the cheeks and put with other eat-soon items in the fridge.
Friday
Can't remember the morning. I think I re-set the pig fence and separated the remaining two pigs and did some fro-ing, stripping and digging work on the new outdoor eating-area-to-be, had some fruitless meetings. Cooked pig cheeks in red wine, then washed up all the sausage-making stuff and started mincing meat at around 9.00pm. Her Outdoors, exhausted from labouring on the land (building a new rabbit run, digging a field by hand, moving compost, planting etc.) reminded me that it was late and we said we weren't going to do this again. (Lesson: Don't start making sausages after, say 6.00pm. It's silly.)
Got to bed late. (Another lesson while I remember: Mincing meat, then adding breadcrumbs, seasoning etc. is not much more work than doing it all in one go, and the consistency's much better.)
Saturday
Bagged up those sausages and stashed them in a friend's freezer. Then had the day off, making a two cubic-metre compost bin and tidying up around here so we don't look quite so shabby. Took a hand and a couple of hocks out of the brine to hang over the bath. Ate a lot of ribs for dinner.
Sunday
Woken up very early by Boy throwing up, having finally succumbed to what they call "Le Gastro" around here. A bi-annual viral thing we've all had and you don't really want to know about.
Made the rest of the sausages, starting much earlier in the evening, and hung them over the bath.
In summary, then: Half a day to kill and hang the pig; two half days for butchery; two half days for sausage making. That's realistic, and allows plenty of time for manual labour. (Although we're both tired at the end of it, and it's not even a full week, it doesn't feel particularly out of the ordinary.)
Monday, 22 February 2010
Thursday, 18 February 2010
How to butcher a pig - the video(s)
At some stage, I will be posting videos from écovallée including, perhaps, such unforgettable gems as: "How to climb a ladder".
But not today.
Today I will be posting the first in a series of excellent and informative videos I found on youtube last night. (They just saved me a load of time processing the second half of the pig we said goodbye to on Tuesday.) Follow the links for the rest in the series which, bizarrely, aren't all numbered. Unless you're a vegetarian. Obviously.
Butchering a pig
But not today.
Today I will be posting the first in a series of excellent and informative videos I found on youtube last night. (They just saved me a load of time processing the second half of the pig we said goodbye to on Tuesday.) Follow the links for the rest in the series which, bizarrely, aren't all numbered. Unless you're a vegetarian. Obviously.
Butchering a pig
Thursday, 11 February 2010
Pig escape plans foiled at last
Something that's been keeping us busier than we need to have been (and don't get me started on all the others - that's the problem when gaps between blog posts are so long - far too much to say) is that old not-favourite: escaping pigs.
One pig in particular has been doing a runner through, under and (having seen his pregnant sister tackle a door I put on the Pig Ark) probably over the two-strand solar fence. We've patiently (or at least, Her Outdoors has) been putting him back behind the wire every morning, using yummy food as the bait. But it's wearing, especially when we have so much other Stuff To Do (did I tell you we have a lot on? One observation on this life we have chosen - I don't think I would be exaggerating too much to say it is a little labour intensive).
This morning, neither of us were especially amused to find one of his sisters had joined him on the wrong side of the fence.
Thinking the battery was low (again), I swapped it for the horse battery. I checked it. Only the faintest 'tick' to show the fence was working. I hammered the earth further into the ground. Still not much of a kick to it. I moved the whole set-up further down the fence. Same result.
Then a vague memory insinuated itself into my mind. Something that Gary and Marlene said when we first got our first pigs.
I just returned from wrapping all the joins of the fence (when you keep enlarging enclosures to add a piece of grass that needs clearing here, a bit of woodland there, you have to cut and tie the wire quite a bit) with little bits of kitchen foil. Turned the fence back on and...
It didn't take long for the often errant pig to feel the force. I checked it with my thingywotsit and power is surging through the wires just as it should have been all along.
Kitchen foil. But you probably knew that already.
One pig in particular has been doing a runner through, under and (having seen his pregnant sister tackle a door I put on the Pig Ark) probably over the two-strand solar fence. We've patiently (or at least, Her Outdoors has) been putting him back behind the wire every morning, using yummy food as the bait. But it's wearing, especially when we have so much other Stuff To Do (did I tell you we have a lot on? One observation on this life we have chosen - I don't think I would be exaggerating too much to say it is a little labour intensive).
This morning, neither of us were especially amused to find one of his sisters had joined him on the wrong side of the fence.
Thinking the battery was low (again), I swapped it for the horse battery. I checked it. Only the faintest 'tick' to show the fence was working. I hammered the earth further into the ground. Still not much of a kick to it. I moved the whole set-up further down the fence. Same result.
Then a vague memory insinuated itself into my mind. Something that Gary and Marlene said when we first got our first pigs.
I just returned from wrapping all the joins of the fence (when you keep enlarging enclosures to add a piece of grass that needs clearing here, a bit of woodland there, you have to cut and tie the wire quite a bit) with little bits of kitchen foil. Turned the fence back on and...
It didn't take long for the often errant pig to feel the force. I checked it with my thingywotsit and power is surging through the wires just as it should have been all along.
Kitchen foil. But you probably knew that already.
Thursday, 28 January 2010
Toying with telly
Have been dabbling with the idea of doing some TV in relation to écovallée. But as a producer in the UK suggested the other day, why should people care about the self-imposed difficulties of a middle-class family living in another country, when there are so many more needful subjects to cover? (My words, not his.)
Fair point, I thought.
Meanwhile, I've had meetings with the mayor and the regional Chamber of Commerce and in a few short weeks, I'll be able to report (how's THAT for positive thinking about two and a half years of tilting at hot air?) that we'll be open for business - legally - this year. Of course, there's the question of finding the money for the wood for the platform, and the new cover (I never did tell you what was so wrong with the original material we bought, did I?) and a few furnishings.
Horse. Cart. Cart. Horse. (Hang on - we do have a cart horse, but we did get the horse before... No. We haven't even found the cart yet.) For old times' sake, and to give your eyes a rest from all these weary words, here's a photo of the yurt we were originally going to live in, in front of the Brighton Earthship.
And to keep you really up to date, here's the yurt we're living in now (when the snow kindly covered all the crap lying around in the yard).
Maybe I should have called this post: Spot the snowball.
Fair point, I thought.
Meanwhile, I've had meetings with the mayor and the regional Chamber of Commerce and in a few short weeks, I'll be able to report (how's THAT for positive thinking about two and a half years of tilting at hot air?) that we'll be open for business - legally - this year. Of course, there's the question of finding the money for the wood for the platform, and the new cover (I never did tell you what was so wrong with the original material we bought, did I?) and a few furnishings.
Horse. Cart. Cart. Horse. (Hang on - we do have a cart horse, but we did get the horse before... No. We haven't even found the cart yet.) For old times' sake, and to give your eyes a rest from all these weary words, here's a photo of the yurt we were originally going to live in, in front of the Brighton Earthship.
And to keep you really up to date, here's the yurt we're living in now (when the snow kindly covered all the crap lying around in the yard).
Maybe I should have called this post: Spot the snowball.
Saturday, 23 January 2010
Yesterday...
...all my troubles were pretty much blown away - at least for a few hours.
It all started after lunch, with a phone call from a friend, inviting us out on Friday to our favourite restaurant. We hardly ever go out, partly because of the animals, partly the children, and mainly because we are so astonishingly poor.
Then I had another call. The laptop that my awesomely talented friend Café del Nightmare is giving to me (yes, giving - I suspect there isn't a more giving person on the planet) will almost certainly be arriving on Monday. Which means this old iBook, literally held together with superglue, can become the paperweight it so desperately wants to be.
Then another call. The car was ready in the garage and I could pick it up at school-collection time.
All pretty good, I thought. How else can I capitalise on what was obviously a good day to be Capitalising on Things. So I started emailing the Chamber of Commerce in the regional capital to set up a meeting next week, but was interrupted by...
...the arrival of the mayor. Completely out of the blue. All smiles and touchy-feely. She wants to help me, she said. And to help Her Indoors with her new stitching business. She invited me to come to the Mairie on Monday afternoon, where she'll give me the name of a bank in Bergerac that could loan us the money we need to get a yurt up and fitted out this year, and details of how the Conseil Generale can help, too.
More than a little bemused, I finished the email to the CCI and set up a meeting on Thursday morning.
Then I saw the time. I was running late - but still made it to collect the car and pick the kids up from school.
The good fortune didn't rub off on The Daughter, alas. She trapped her finger in the car door and we had to go to the doctor's. No stitches and it definitely could have been worse.
I said it wasn't over.
It all started after lunch, with a phone call from a friend, inviting us out on Friday to our favourite restaurant. We hardly ever go out, partly because of the animals, partly the children, and mainly because we are so astonishingly poor.
Then I had another call. The laptop that my awesomely talented friend Café del Nightmare is giving to me (yes, giving - I suspect there isn't a more giving person on the planet) will almost certainly be arriving on Monday. Which means this old iBook, literally held together with superglue, can become the paperweight it so desperately wants to be.
Then another call. The car was ready in the garage and I could pick it up at school-collection time.
All pretty good, I thought. How else can I capitalise on what was obviously a good day to be Capitalising on Things. So I started emailing the Chamber of Commerce in the regional capital to set up a meeting next week, but was interrupted by...
...the arrival of the mayor. Completely out of the blue. All smiles and touchy-feely. She wants to help me, she said. And to help Her Indoors with her new stitching business. She invited me to come to the Mairie on Monday afternoon, where she'll give me the name of a bank in Bergerac that could loan us the money we need to get a yurt up and fitted out this year, and details of how the Conseil Generale can help, too.
More than a little bemused, I finished the email to the CCI and set up a meeting on Thursday morning.
Then I saw the time. I was running late - but still made it to collect the car and pick the kids up from school.
The good fortune didn't rub off on The Daughter, alas. She trapped her finger in the car door and we had to go to the doctor's. No stitches and it definitely could have been worse.
I said it wasn't over.
Thursday, 7 January 2010
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)