Fiesta de Chancho, A Pig Roast on My 37th Birthday

How did this all happen?

I have been wanting to roast a whole pig for quite some time; until my birthday this past Sunday, I had never roasted a whole pig. While living in Sámara, Costa Rica, recently, I was inquiring with my friend, Canuche about BBQ and whether whole pigs are prepared here. Turns out they do happen from time to time, but more importantly, he too had been wanting to roast a whole pig. He had participated in a pig roast previously, but he hadn't been the lead on hosting and preparing the whole pig. We set out together to make our first time roasting a pig with a lot of research, planning and preparation.

We studied and met to discuss our plans numerous times over the preceding month. We considered different cooking methods, sauces, sizes and everything else in between. A couple weeks before the pig roast we took a trip with a friend to a nearby town and met a kind farmer, who had several pigs. We met the family, the pigs, crossed over army ants along the way and struck a deal on a young growing little white pig. 

In the interceding weeks we finished our plans, ordered up all the materials, had a rack fabricated, and got started by picking up the pig a couple days before the roast. What follows is the outline of the steps for hosting our first joint Fiesta de Chancho.

I am not going to play it cool and say I was not nervous at points. We invited 80 people to a party, and I did not want to fuck up roasting a whole pig. The oven took longer than I would have liked to heat up, but that's one thousand pounds of cinder block for you.

I woke up at 4.30am, and I rode my bike past my favorite field lined with palm-trees, the ocean, a sky full of stars, and the first glimmers of day-break. We started the morning with some strong coffee. The second cup had a healthy pour of Bulleit Bourbon. I spent my 37th birthday tending a fire and roasting my first whole pig for 10 hours. When I took that initial bite of slow roasted bacon I got weak in the knees. It was everything I imagined it could have been. I drank beer with my legs cooling off in the river and laughed the whole day with my loving family as well as good friends new and newer.

I would like to shout out especially to my dear friends, Canuche and Mercy, for their partnership and hosting us at their hotel, Villas Espavel.

Here are a complete set of the photos from the pig roast in case you're interested.

Timeline

Pick up pig, Friday AM
Clean and Brine, Friday AM
Pig drying/salting/dry rub Sunday 5 AM
Fire, Sunday 5 AM
Cooking at 7AM PIG ON!
Flip pig 10.30AM
Take pig off, 2.45PM

Oven Design and Materials

We tossed around ideas of oven, pit, in-ground with stones, rotisserie and others. Ultimately, we landed on a simple cinder block design with a separate charcoal fire. The oven had two entries where coals could be added to the oven for easy access under the shoulders and the hams allowing us control the internal temperature primarily. We liked this design because it allowed us to cook the meatiest parts of the pig while not overdoing the tender sirloins.

When we assembled the oven it was slightly wobbly, so instead of sticking strictly to our design we widened the second layer to four bricks for stability. Additionally, we filled some of the cinderblocks with wood and earth for stability. It added to the oven mass a bit, but little comparatively to the weight of the bricks.

Dimensions

In total we used about 65 cinderblocks
2 cinder blocks wide by 3-4 cinder blocks long (~3’x5’)
4 layers high for base + rack w/one more layer before the sheet metal top
Our rack was not built exactly to spec, so we had to break a couple blocks to shorten them just a tad for the top layer of bricks; not ideal but it worked fine.

Source for the design: Whole Hog | BBQ with Franklin | PBS Food (jump to 2:54)
How ours turned out:

Rack for Pig

We went with a custom fabricated rack, which sandwiched the pig. The idea was to bind the pig to the rack and cinch the two sides of the rack together tightly to ensure it was easy to flip and that we wouldn't lose any of the pig as it got really tender towards the end of the cook. Additionally, it was designed with the oven in mind, so that we could neatly add the pig atop the oven, and add one more single layer of blocks with a roof.

Source for the design: Pig Roast How-To! - Part 2... (YouTube)
How ours turned out:

Fuel

Post construction at Villas Espavel there was a large stack of miscellaneous wood, plenty enough for 18+ hours of charcoal (only a small portion of the wood supply is shown below). The original plan was to cook the bigger pig for 18 hours over a 200-225 F fire.

Preparing the charcoal

We built a charcoal oven, which we kept burning tall throughout the cook, and with a handy spare iron window security grate the coals neatly fell through, and we shoveled them into the oven as needed.

Preparing the Pig Part 1

Crack the spine with a hatchet/axe and hammer all the way down in order to fully butterfly the pig

Prep the interior -- trim out the extra fat and pull the membrane off the back of the ribs

Wash the pig on both sides and be sure to scrub off all dirt and excess hair

Brine

Recipe

Base:
4 Gallons of Water
1 Gallon Apple Cider Vinegar
2 Cups Kosher Salt

Aromatics:
Apples
Onions
Garlic
Rosemary
Thyme
Sage

Source for the recipe: Whole Hog | BBQ with Franklin | PBS Food

Inject the shoulders and hams with brine

Submerge the pig in the remaining base and add all the aromatics:

Preparing the Pig Part 2

Remove the pig from the brine and hose it down completely. Pat down the skin as dry as possible

Rub the interior (we used a Pepper, Paprika, Cumin, Garlic Powder, and Onion Powder mixture)

Flip and rub down the entire skin with salt

Dry out the skin with fans, remove wet salt and reapply; all the while bringing the pig up to room-temperature 30 minutes or more

Mop Sauce

We found a Mop Sauce with my grandmother's name, and additionally it had that Austin, TX vinegar flavor profile we were looking for!

Merle's Mop Sauce

1 cup vinegar; cider or wine
5 tablespoons Worcestershire sauce
2/3 cup salad oil
3 tablespoons butter
1 each lemon; thinly sliced
3 each cloves; crushed
2 tablespoons ginger; grated
2 tablespoons dry mustard

Combine all ingredients in a saucepan and heat until flavors are nicely blended. Use to baste any meat or poultry.

Source: BBQ-Porch by Carey Starzinger

BBQ Sauce to serve with pulled meat

Espresso Barbecue Sauce

1 1/2 cups ketchup
1/2 cup white vinegar
1/2 cup cider vinegar
1/4 cup dark soy sauce
1 tablespoon garlic powder
1 tablespoon onion powder
1/4 cup brown sugar
3 tablespoons (1 1/2 ounces) freshly pulled espresso

Brisket drippings, for flavoring
Mix the ketchup, both vinegars, the soy sauce, garlic and onion powders, and sugar together in a saucepan and bring to a simmer over medium heat, stirring occasionally. Remove from the heat, stir in the espresso, and then add the brisket drippings to taste. Let cool, then transfer to a jar, bottle, squeeze bottle, or however you want to store it. Store in the refrigerator for up to 2 weeks.

Source: Aaron Franklin

Cooking Method

Based on what we learned from BBQ with Franklin our goal was to get the pig butts to an internal temperature of 203° F and the hams to 185-190° F. To do this we wanted the fire under the shoulder butts to be 220° F and under the hams 215° F. Given our first attempt we decided to aim for a universal 225° F oven temperature and if time ran short, we would raise the temperature up to 250° F to finish the pig.

How did it actually happen with the oven? It took us well over 90 minutes to get the oven up to temperature, and that put a pinch on our cook time. As we ran long on our cook we settled for hitting 185° F internal temperature front and back, which was cooked enough, but we would have liked to get a bit hotter.

After the pig had cooked the first three hours skin side up, we mopped the skin, flipped it, and mopped the interior. Thereafter we mopped the pig interior every 40 minutes or so til done.

Pulling the meat

We let the pig setup 15 minutes after pulling it from the oven. We separated out all the bones, gathered up all the meat, shredded it and chopped some that was slightly tougher. Then, we mixed in a substantial amount of the skin that was crispy and delicious.

The Fournado is Real

About a month back I thought... Willa is vacillating between having an amazing time and struggling to adjust. It's hot, there are lots of bugs, and so much is different than she's used to. That said she's had huge breakthroughs in the pool in early July, and that is her happy place. We're getting fruit smoothies everywhere we go, and we're trying to be sure and address her needs constructively; although, sometimes we've just needed to put our foot down and tell her she's being a diva and suck it up. It's been a very interesting chapter in the process.

Today, along with a parent friend, I went to school and sunk some lemongrass plants in the play yard. There are tons of mosquitos, and Willa, nearly as much the target as I am, is still coming home with bites regularly. One potential remedy is to plant lemongrass, which mosquitos apparently don't like so much, and try to keep them at bay. 

Willa has been my planting helper all along back in Brooklyn and wherever the occasion arises. I'm at school and helping get this planting underway, and she has glommed onto my leg, and there is no letting go. We're moving from spot to spot, and Willa is constantly underfoot. "I want to help you with [this]... I want to help you with [that]" 

We sink one plant, and then we're working on the next plant, and I explain one of her classmates is to have a turn putting a plant in the ground, and at the risk of destroying the plant Willa will not let go of it. I do let go impressing a big mud stain across the front of her dress. It's hot, she's muddy, she's a crying mess, and I cannot get the plant out of her clutching hands. Prying the plant away from her we have to step aside to talk and calm down. Now we're both out of sorts, and I punish her by taking away pool time this afternoon. We have had to lose pool time or TV show time on a few occasions because of run-ins like these. 

Trying to leave school after the planting successfully completed she was a hot mess and would not let go. She explained she was tired and had to go home; well, this is an often refrain should either Marla or I see her at a school function anytime between drop off and pick up: "I'm tired", "I'm sick", "I don't want to be here." The teachers are super cool and helpful, and they often step in to lure Willa away bringing her attention elsewhere.

This is probably just four more than I am being a bad parent. I am not as quiet as feel like I should be. The heat doesn't help keep my temper down. My A-type and things needing to be repeated time and again and resulting in snotty bubbling emotional messes is not an easy place for either of us to end up. It's not nice once you arrive there; it's not easy to diffuse, and it's not so easy to just stand up and carry on. Willa's former teacher shared an excellent list of  32 Tantrum-Tamer Phrases to Use With 3 and 4 Year-Olds in Meltdown Mode. Marla and I talk about these situations when we've calmed toward the end of the day and gird ourselves for another eventful encounter in the near future. It's constant, and I want to help Willa grow, understand and appreciate along the way. She's teaching me when I see myself losing my cool (in more way than one), and that's forcing me to redouble my efforts to be my best self for both of us.

How do I know it's all going to turn out alright? I wasn't there, but the other day Marla and Willa are walking to school in the morning. Willa points out a bird to Marla and asks, "You know which one that is?" Marla says no and asks whether Willa does. Without skipping a beat Willa explains, "That's the Red Hawker-Nawker, and it's habitat is..." She apparently goes on for several extensive descriptive and imaginary educational vignettes about this fictitiously identified bird. Willa is smart, she's imaginative, and she's creative.

Some days Willa embodies the perfect pura vida, and other days she is mired in her fourness, and some days she rapidly vacillates. So she lost the pool today, and we'll spend some time talking about it while doing other things. Am I doing it right? I certainly hope so. The fournado is real, and she's the sweetest little monster I know. People say they miss this time -- I think they have memory loss. The Red Hawker-Nawker is a keeper for all times.

An early take on pura vida

Pura vida has mostly been a call of pride and mutual agreement that things are pretty alright. Pura vida is the national expression of Costa Rica. It is a way of life. It is how one is doing when you ask, ¿Como esta (how are you)? It is an expression of agreement that life is pretty great here.

Take for instance after having worked with a real estate broker here for a long while to find a long term rental with a tight profile. He very vigorously identified properties fitting a our specifications, but they didn't quite suit us save one that was great, but it disappeared within a blink; friends of the owners would be taking the place before us. We canvased the area for all brokers working within this town of 1,500 residents, and we found exactly what we were looking for through another party, and it was tough for me to write the message explaining the situation. I felt bad to deliver it in an email, but I had an opportunity to connect with him in person shortly thereafter. Both his response to the email and seeing him in person the affect was the same. Pura Vida. He was glad our family has been able to find exactly the place we needed for the time we are here in Sámara. What a choice notion to affirm life exclaiming, "pura vida."

Unrelated to the apartment, during my recent mourning period a new friend explained that Costa Rica is a place where cell phones come to die. My language instructor affirmed this after a discussion in class this past week. So, a couple weeks I went out near shore fishing. Everything was spectacular about the entire trip from early rise right up until the final minute of the trip back to shore. We were successful out at sea bringing home some yellow fin tuna, and we split up the catch among the three different parties. When at nearly the last moment the boat to shore skiff came sliding in ashore, and the boat skids up on the rocks turning sideways. Everyone else successfully gets out of the skiff, and I put my leg over the side of the boat at which point it gets shoved broadside by a wave, and I was tossed face first into the shore. My hand and knee took a mild skinning and beating. Worse still my cell phone was in the cargo pocket of my bathing suit. Newly dunked I immediately sprang into action tossing the phone. My new buddy graciously and selflessly began hooving water off the device and wiping it down.

Time goes by and alas the phone is dead. Like dead dead. Like there's a single red light blink if you attempt to power up the device. I'm fairly sure I'm singlehandedly responsible for assassinating my phone with an electric surge before it was fully dry and ready for such an encounter. Well, much time gone by and energy spent a new phone will make it to me with about a month's long gap in between.

Back up a week or two before the phone's death, and I was shocked to find myself here and spending as much time as I did on the couch making sure I traversed every corner of my old internet stomping grounds. And, as it turns out that is a lot of information. My phone was also quite handy for walking around with as it has the local data plan making it easy to stay in touch for our family and explore new towns, etc. However, did we HAVE to have this up to the minute access? No. Pura vida. Could the death of my phone be cause for exclaiming, "pura vida"? Yes, in fact it is.

Without constantly reaching for my phone I have been reaching for my book. I finished a great one, Neal Stephenson's The Diamond Age or a Young Lady's Illustrated Primer. And, then I moved onto the next book in my pile.

Not to be outdone with the downside of pura vida I had to pause writing this story at home, which I'm doing because the internet has been down for four days (pura vida). I had to pause because Willa killed the iPad. She wanted to give me a hug while watching her show, and with the cord sufficiently wrapped around her waist she dragged the device off the coffee table and the screen cracked into a million shards making the iPad dangerously unusable. Pura vida.

Before we left Marla and I discussed what this year would be for us, what we wanted for Willa and overall how would this time would change our family. Well, the resiliency we discussed and agreed would be very beneficial for all of us is being served up daily. Things are different here in a great way, and we are beginning to embrace all the amazingness and all the challenges that pura vida has to offer.

My first taste of the ocean

Over the past many months I have been settling up our affairs in New York. We made the decision to pack up and head to Costa Rica in February, and this past Wednesday we arrived. There were lots of ins and outs to the whole transition. We had a long arc of goodbyes to our family and friends and to our city of 20 years.

Most everything went off without a hitch, but of course I can be silly sometimes. I had to have one more urgent care visit before leaving. After having settled up in Brooklyn we headed to Scarsdale, NY to spend a week with family. We went to the local pool, and not 15 minutes in I attempted a few breast strokes with my eyes closed -- my new goggles were arriving the next day. Several strokes in I veered off course a bit, and I banged my head into a ladder. Reportedly, eight staples at urgent care sealed the cut, and worse it donned on me that I couldn't jump in the ocean immediately upon arriving in Costa Rica. Irritatingly, I continue to have my fair share of accidents, but I got my feet in on the first day nevertheless. Marla, importantly, took that first day Pacific plunge and came back glowing. We have made a great decision for our family. Willa is a whole other matter, and we're still inching her into the water; on Wednesday she would have none of it.

Needless to say there was a bunch of conversation about my staples before departing. Should they come out early before I leave? Would I be able to get them out in a small town? Sámara only has about 4,000 residents. Answer turns out to be yes, there's a clinic run by Dr. Freddy Soto, and he indeed has a staple remover. Cool, we're good to go staples and all. They didn't set off the metal detector at JFK, but I had the visit notes handy just in case.

Yesterday was to be staple removal day, and I couldn't wait. First though we joined Willa's new school, Sámara Pacific School, on their beach day. The trip celebrated the school year half way point. Costa Rica's school calendar runs year round with about 210 days in session. This was a great opportunity for Willa to begin her new school introduction, meeting the other students and playing at the beach. Of course the ocean was looming, and not even the enticement of a fellow girl who went dashing into ankle deep water was enough to get Willa there. She did stick her toes in, which was a marked improvement over the two prior days.

At the beach picnic Marla and I were introducing ourselves and meeting lots of parents. Many have been here for a while, some were here only weeks before us, and some were leaving the following day. As it happens, Brian and his family were departing the next day after a three and a half year stay. Brian had lots of great suggestions for settling in, turns out they had two bikes to sell, and to boot he's an ER doctor with a pair of staple removers back at his house. After the beach party we went back to their house where he deftly removed my staples, and moments later we bought they bikes. Nice how that turned out.

During the past week I had fretted quite a bit about the staple removal, and I had discussed at the urgent care getting a staple remover to bring with me, I had seen my internist before leaving and discussed it with her. Marla and I and many family members had all discussed it extensively. I had contemplated how the tools would need to be sterile, and what would I do if they weren't; would I say something? In the end I sat at new acquaintance's poolside table. He pulled a pair of staple removers from a bag with lots of other tools, and he proceeded to pull out seven staples. The urgent care doctor said there were eight, so Dr. Brian and two onlookers all combed through my head with beach hands and scanned for the never applied eighth staple. This is not how I imagined the scene was going to go down.

After all that I was walking the small lane between our house and the beach, and I saw an email from a friend. There was change back in New York, which related to everything that set our family's adventure in motion, and it brought a huge smile to my face. With that I dropped off Willa's beach toys, which I had been retrieving, took off my shirt, pitched my flip flops and walked into the ocean.

Talking with my grandfather always brings the biggest smile to my face. At times I've gotten a little carried away with his '-isms', but when he's just so awesome, it's hard not to. In our conversation just now he shared:

If you're going to race with me, and I don't win,

you're going to break the record.

That's coming from a genuine sense he's giving his efforts the most, and he always does it gracefully. I am working on both the former and the latter. I should be so lucky to get where he is, when I catch up to his age fifty-six years from now.