A month-old pig, if it be well-grown and plump, is best for this
purpose. It is hardly possible that any lady-housekeeper will ever be
called upon to do the butcher’s work upon the bodies of full-grown
hogs, or even “shoat”—a task that requires the use of hatchet or
cleaver. It is well that she should know how to clean and dress the
baby pig, which is not larger than a Thanksgiving turkey.
As soon as it is really cold, make ready a large boiler of scalding
water. Lay the pig in cold water for fifteen minutes; then, holding it
by the hind-leg, plunge it into the boiling water, and shake it about
violently until you can pull the hair off by the handful. Take it out,
wipe it dry, and with a crash cloth or whisk broom rub the hair off,
brushing from the tail to the head, until the skin is perfectly clean.
Cut it open, take out the entrails, and wash very thoroughly with cold
water, then with soda and water, to remove any unpleasant odor; next
with salt and water. Rinse with fair water and wipe inside. Then wrap
in a wet cloth, and keep this saturated with cold water until you are
ready to stuff it. If these directions be followed implicitly, the pig
will be fair and white, as if intrusted to a professional butcher.
For stuffing, take a cupful of bread-crumbs, half a chopped onion,
two teaspoonfuls powdered sage, three tablespoonfuls melted butter, a
saltspoonful of pepper, half a grated nutmeg, half a teaspoonful of
salt, two well-beaten eggs. Mix all these ingredients, except the egg,
together, incorporating them well; beat in the eggs, and stuff the pig
into his natural size and shape. Sew him up, and bend his fore-feet
backward, his hind-feet forward, under and close to the body, and
skewering them into the proper position. Dry it well, and dredge with
flour. Put it to roast with a little hot water, slightly salted, in
the dripping-pan. Baste with butter and water three times, as the pig
gradually warms, afterward with the dripping. When it begins to smoke
or steam, rub it over every five minutes or so, with a cloth dipped in
melted butter. Do not omit this precaution if you would have the skin
tender and soft after it begins to brown. A month-old pig will require
about an hour and three-quarters or two hours—sometimes longer—to
roast, if the fire be brisk and steady.
Should you or your guests dislike onion, prepare your stuffing without
it. The following is a good receipt for rich and savory force-meat for
a pig:—
One cup of bread-crumbs, an ounce of suet, a bunch of parsley minced
fine, teaspoonful of powdered sage, pepper, salt, and nutmeg, a
little thyme, half a glass Madeira or Sherry, juice of a lemon,
two tablespoonfuls melted butter, a cup of oyster-liquor, and two
well-beaten eggs. For a Christmas pig, it is worth one’s while to take
the trouble to prepare this stuffing.
If your pig is large, you can cut off his head and split him down the
back before sending to table. Do this with a sharp knife, and lay the
backs together. But it is a pity! I have before me now the vision of
a pig I once saw served whole on the table of a friend, that forbids
me ever to mutilate him before the guests have a chance to feast their
eyes upon the goodly picture. He was done to a turn—a rich, even brown,
without a seam or crack from head to tail, and he knelt in a bed of
deep-green parsley, alternately with bunches of whitish-green celery
tops (the inner and tender leaves); a garland of the same was about his
neck, and in his mouth was a tuft of white cauliflower, surrounded by a
setting of curled parsley. Very simple, you see; but I never beheld a
more ornamental roast.
Skim your gravy well; add a little hot water, thicken with brown flour,
boil up once, strain, and, when you have added half a glass of wine and
half the juice of a lemon, serve in a tureen.
In carving the pig, cut off the head first; then split down the back,
take off hams and shoulders, and separate the ribs. Serve some of the
dressing to each person.
I have been thus minute in describing the preparation of this holiday
dish, because it is erroneously considered a difficult task. Any cook
with a moderate degree of judgment and experience can undertake it with
a reasonable expectation of success.