Pigs how I like them...alive
I missed the pork brain feast. I haven’t decided if that’s a good thing or a bad thing, but I’m a little bummed I didn’t get to witness it.
A friend of mine, Manang Susan, invited me to her house for her husband’s grandmother’s birthday (Manang means older sister in Ifugao, and we use a title in front of any person’s name who is older than us—Manong is for men). I asked what they’d be serving and she said pork, as in, pork and rice and lots of alcohol—no veggies. I have to be honest, I hate red meat. I can handle chicken and fish, but I really don’t like pork and beef. I also knew there would be about 200 people present that I didn’t know. That combination of factors, plus feeling horribly homesick, led to my decision to not attend the feast. Instead I spent quite a bit of time catching up on my writing, feeling sorry to myself, and listening to the pigs squeal down the street as they were led to the slaughter.
Well, I think I regret it. It would have been a great chance to support my friend Manang Susan, who is also my Ifugao language teacher. It also would have been a wonderful cultural experience, though I think I was a bit gun shy (understandably) after experiencing the last drunken revelry where I’d been shouted at for about two hours.
I went by today to visit Manang Susan and her husband, Manong Johnny. I could tell the feasting had ended and I decided I would pay a visit and meet her grandmother if possible. That’s when they told me what I had missed that morning. Yes, I didn’t get to witness the slaughter of six pigs for their feast, but I think that might have traumatized me. But I’d also missed the pig brain feast. Apparently, the day after a huge pig feast they have a bunch of leftover heads. Since you can’t leave any meat uneaten here, they cook the heads as well. They take the ears, the tongue, the brains, and some other choice meats and they cook it all together with some soy sauce and calamansi (like lemon). Susan said that they men particularly enjoy the brain feast but the women love it as well.
“Is it good?” I asked.
“Oh yes,” she said. “Na-imas.” It’s delicious.
I’ll take her word on that one.
I missed the pork brain feast. I haven’t decided if that’s a good thing or a bad thing, but I’m a little bummed I didn’t get to witness it.
A friend of mine, Manang Susan, invited me to her house for her husband’s grandmother’s birthday (Manang means older sister in Ifugao, and we use a title in front of any person’s name who is older than us—Manong is for men). I asked what they’d be serving and she said pork, as in, pork and rice and lots of alcohol—no veggies. I have to be honest, I hate red meat. I can handle chicken and fish, but I really don’t like pork and beef. I also knew there would be about 200 people present that I didn’t know. That combination of factors, plus feeling horribly homesick, led to my decision to not attend the feast. Instead I spent quite a bit of time catching up on my writing, feeling sorry to myself, and listening to the pigs squeal down the street as they were led to the slaughter.
Well, I think I regret it. It would have been a great chance to support my friend Manang Susan, who is also my Ifugao language teacher. It also would have been a wonderful cultural experience, though I think I was a bit gun shy (understandably) after experiencing the last drunken revelry where I’d been shouted at for about two hours.
I went by today to visit Manang Susan and her husband, Manong Johnny. I could tell the feasting had ended and I decided I would pay a visit and meet her grandmother if possible. That’s when they told me what I had missed that morning. Yes, I didn’t get to witness the slaughter of six pigs for their feast, but I think that might have traumatized me. But I’d also missed the pig brain feast. Apparently, the day after a huge pig feast they have a bunch of leftover heads. Since you can’t leave any meat uneaten here, they cook the heads as well. They take the ears, the tongue, the brains, and some other choice meats and they cook it all together with some soy sauce and calamansi (like lemon). Susan said that they men particularly enjoy the brain feast but the women love it as well.
“Is it good?” I asked.
“Oh yes,” she said. “Na-imas.” It’s delicious.
I’ll take her word on that one.
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