The Best Way to Cook Pasture-Raised Pork Starts With Stacking Cinder Blocks

“I’m casting around for an epic culinary project to do with friends. Is it possible to roast a whole pig at home?”

—Seth Martins

I’ve written about some controversial subjects for TakePart, including raw food, the Paleo diet, and microwave ovens, but I’m really going out on a limb here. As William Shelton Reed and Dale Holberg Reed point out in Holy Smoke: The Big Book of North Carolina Barbecue, the problem is that, when it comes to cooking a whole pig, “there are reputable, sometimes renowned, pitmasters who would tell you something different at each and every step. Literally, each and every one.” They’re not kidding.

I’ve been fortunate, though, to have observed some of the finest pitmasters of our time at work, among them Ed Mitchell of North Carolina and Rodney Scott of Scott’s Bar-B-Q in Hemingway, South Carolina. Both of them are black, and neither one, as it happens, is on the recently released list of “America’s most influential BBQ pitmasters and personalities” compiled by Fox News and rightfully lambasted by barbecue experts as woefully ignorant at best and racist at worst.

The Tiniest Smidge of Backstory

The first pig roasts were occasions for families and communities to get together, and you’ll find various renditions all over the world. I’m most familiar with the barbecue tradition of the American South. It has its roots in the Caribbean, “where Spanish explorers of the early 1500s found islanders roasting fish and game on a framework of sticks they called (in translation) a barbacoa,” wrote Jim Auchmutey in the “Foodways” volume of The New Encyclopedia of Southern Culture. In America, “the first barbecuers were usually African slaves who combined their native methods of roasting meat with know-how picked up from their passage in the West Indies.”

There are numerous knowledgeable websites (including those of the Southern Foodways Alliance and the North Carolina Barbecue Society) devoted to barbecue, and it’s the subject of some mighty fine books. Among the favorites in my library are the aforementioned Holy Smoke as well as Smokestack Lightning: Adventures in the Heart of Barbecue Country by Lolis Eric Elie and Barbecue Crossroads: Notes and Recipes From a Southern Odyssey by Robb Walsh. What I’m trying to say is that in the space provided here, all I can do is fly low and point out a few important landmarks.

The Meat

In most of the South, barbecue means pork, and particularly in eastern North Carolina, it means the whole hog. Ed Mitchell is one pitmaster who is preaching the gospel of sustainably raised, pastured pork with fat and flavor. “That pork knocked me down,” he wrote, recounting the first time he ate that kind of meat for Gourmet in 2005. “I knew that was the pork my grandfather ate all his life. I knew that was the old-fashioned pork we lost when near about everybody went industrial.” If you believe in eating meat that is raised with the welfare of the animals and the enviornment in mind—and hog farming can be particularly brutal to both—then you want to seek out a farm that can offer a similar epiphany.

Southern chef Sean Brock, who raises his own hogs, likes a Berkshire or Tamworth Cross. “Both of those have the genes of different breeds, which gives you a balanced animal—good meat-to-fat ratio in the belly, the hams aren’t too big, the loin has the right amount of fat cap on it, and the shoulders are large and well-marbled,” he told Popular Mechanics in 2013. 

“Whole hog,” by the way, doesn’t actually mean the whole hog, but one that’s been “dressed”—that is, had the feet, tail, and innards removed and the bristles scraped off. Many people prefer to have the head removed as well. Be sure to get the hog with the skin on, the Reeds counsel, and ask for it butterflied so you can spread it open on the cooker. Because you may still need to crack the ribs to open the carcass all the way, you may even want to order the pig split down the backbone into halves, which will make it easier to flip. A dressed 90-pound hog (without the head) should serve 30 people or so, and if you’re lucky enough to have any leftover pulled pork, it freezes well.

As for sourcing a whole hog, you can buy one from a local farmer, or a butcher can special-order one for you. According to a recent Food Safety News bulletin, it pays to hose it off and salt it down to help prevent pathogens such as salmonella and E. coli from growing on the surface. A whole hog is too big for the refrigerator and most coolers, so the most common place to stash it is in the bathtub with lots of ice.

The Fuel

In a perfect world, you’d start with half a cord of well-seasoned hardwood logs and burn them down, but about 70 pounds of hardwood lump charcoal is a good compromise. You’ll also want lots of water-soaked hardwood chunks to add to the burning coals for smoke. Avoid mesquite; although it’s great for Texas-style beef brisket, it’s too strong for pork. Instead, choose hickory, oak, a fruitwood such as apple, or a mix.

The Method

The easiest option is to rent a charcoal (not propane) cooker, which you can tow behind a car, or plunk down a chunk of change for a Cuban-style Caja China (Chinese box), available at online sources including Williams-Sonoma. A Caja China is simple to use and a huge hit at Brooklyn block parties I’ve been to, but although it results in beautifully moist lechon pork, you won’t get much of a smoky whomp. A spit-roaster is yet another alternative, but because it’s an open-air cooking method, again, you‘re not going to get the smokiness that many aficionados crave.

If, however, you’re the sort of person who can build a raised garden bed or cold frame (yes, it’s that time of year again), you may not think twice about knocking together a temporary cinder-block pit. It helps to have a truck-owning friend who owes you one, and a place nearby where you can buy a sheet of expanded metal and the other supplies you’ll need. (Avoid galvanized metal, which can give off toxic fumes.) It’s also helpful to have a kettle grill or fire pit to get additional coals working; that way, you can add them to the pit as needed.

“The coals go in a pit and the meat is put more or less directly above them, at some distance (to keep the cooking temperature low),” explain the Reeds. “The meat is kept moist by frequent mopping (basting), and most of the smoke comes from the meat drippings and basting sauce hitting the hot coals (coals produce very little smoke on their own). It’s hard to improve on this technique for cooking whole hogs.”

The Game Plan

Decide when you want to eat and work backward. Built the pit and lay in supplies a few days ahead. Think about delegating authority for the playlist, beer, snacks, and the graveyard shift. As far as the cooking goes, give yourself plenty of leeway; depending on the size of the hog, the Reeds suggest at least 12 and up to 14 hours start to finish.

The Roasting

There are numerous how-to’s online, including this one from Field & Stream. In addition to the building and fuel supplies, you’ll want to have the following items on hand:

•       One or two large chimney fire starters (available at hardware stores and online sources)

•       An oven thermometer (a remote-read type is nice but not necessary)

•       A meat thermometer

•       Heavy gloves (for you and a sidekick)

•       A squirt bottle of water to control flare-ups

•       An Eastern North Carolina–style barbecue sauce (see below)

The Sauce

This “Old-Time Eastern North Carolina Barbecue Sauce,” which appears in the Reeds’ Holy Smoke, is dead simple. Just mix together 1 gallon cider vinegar, 1⅓ cups crushed red pepper, 2 tablespoons black pepper, and ¼ cup coarse salt and let stand for at least 4 hours.

And here is more advice from the Reeds and Sean Brock, with an assist from Food Safety News.

•       When shoveling hot coals into the pit, put more under where the thick, slow-cooking hams (hind legs) and shoulders of the hog will be. Check the oven thermometer; the temperature at grill level should reach 225º–250º Fahrenheit. Put a half-dozen water-soaked wood chunks where they’ll smolder, but not directly under the pig. Then put the pig, skin side up, on the grate and cover.

•       After a while, start another batch of charcoal. Every half hour, check the temperature of the pit. If it’s dropping off, put more hot coals under the shoulders and hams and a couple of hardwood chunks off to the side. Use a shovel to push the dying embers into the middle of the pit to cook the ribs and loin.

•       After six or seven hours, the hams and shoulders should be looking nicely browned and wrinkled. Stick a meat thermometer in those thick parts—don’t touch the bone—and see if the temperature has reached 165º Fahrenheit. Keep cooking until it reaches that temperature, even if it takes much longer.

•       When it reaches 165º Fahrenheit, you and a friend don those heavy gloves and gently turn the pig over. You may need a spatula or (clean) shovel to loosen it first. Don’t worry if the pig sort of comes apart when you do this. Once the skin side is down, you’ll be looking at the ribs. Generously fill the cavity with sauce, and mop the shoulders and hams, too.

•       Let the meat cook another couple of hours, adding coals and wood as needed, until your meat thermometer reads at least 180º Fahrenheit in every part of the animal. “You’ll know the pig is done when you can reach in and pull away the rib bones with no resistance, clean as a whistle,” wrote Sean Brock in Heritage. “The shoulder bones should come out clean too.”

How to Eat

You can serve the cooked pig as is, pig-picking style, so that guests can choose what they like—moist, tender, pale “inside meat” or the dark, smoky, barklike “outside meat.” Or you can chop or pull the meat for a luscious mix of the two, dress it with some remaining sauce, and add in some cracklings for yet another texture. The traditional way to eat pulled pork is to sandwich it, along with a generous dollop of coleslaw, in a hamburger bun. Hushpuppies optional.

And Last, a Reality Check

If roasting a whole hog sounds like more than you bargained for, take heart. Especially if you are new to outdoor cooking or can’t undertake the considerable investment of time and money, there’s no shame in starting with something smaller and more manageable, like a pork shoulder. Specifically, I’m talking about a Boston butt, the meaty upper part of the shoulder that’s also called pork butt or butt end of a pork shoulder roast. A bone-in Boston butt usually weighs a good eight to 10 pounds, and it can be cooked on the grill.

Any which way, the result is hog heaven.

Related stories on TakePart:

• What Do Slaughterhouse Inspectors Eat After Work? Ham Steak

• Dude, They Found Your Carnitas: Chipotle Solves Its Pork Crisis

• Chipotle’s Mexican Carnitas Are Coming Back, Thanks to British Pork

Original article from TakePart