HOW TO ACQUIRE AN INSATIABLE APPETITE FOR MEXICAN FOOD

I have mentioned my next door neighbors, the JOJOLA family, ans I am sorry that I can't recall all of the names, only CIPRANO the youngest and Mary the next one up. Then there was of course Mr. and be sure it was MISTER and Mrs. and that was MOMMA JOJOLA. In addition I think I remember three other girls, I was running so much in those days I couldn't catch names, I was in fact running from the three girls. Might not have been so bad had Mary been a part of chasers, Mary just avoided the bit.

This ritual went on from the time they moved to their home and lasted until I was about a junior in high school. It came about in this way, Ciprano and I played western shoot'em ups in the arroyo behind our house and into the flats above it.
When we would be called to come eat, do chores (his house or mine), what ever cause it signaled to the three girls it was "Kiss on David time" and I, not being worldly ran. They would chase and generally catch me and lay it on me. Wow, and why I ran I just.......

Now let's get to the "hang the hog". Mister Jojola would pass the word around, I would get the information from Mary or Ciprano, that on a certain day the "hanging"
would take place. Those of us privy to the event would be available the evening before to help in the chores preceding the "hanging". There was wood to gather,
coffee tins (the large ones) to be rinsed, cheese cloth cut and made into strainers.
These were the chores that allowed the participant to watch the machinations required to do this "hanging", and to participate in the consumption of product derived from the "hanging".

Mister Jojola was quite adept at backing the honoree into the choice position at this particular fete. When the honoree was securely bound in his new hemp garment (better known as ropes to a come-along) Mister Jojola dispatched the hog with a couple of rounds from a large caliber weapon of which the hole in the end weighed five pounds. Before the hog could fall it appeared that the back part of this beast
was up in the air hung on the quad pole rigging and being hoisted upward by men pulling the come-along.

The immediate bath of soapy water, applied by some of the women, followed by the adept use of a very sharp straight razor and the guest of honor was fully shaved of his bristled hair. He again was bathed with hot water and damp dried. The following
was not particularly pleasant however it was part of life and learning.

The beast was to be surgically slit about the throat in order to drain his blood.
The blood was to be used in the making of various Mexican food stuffs, including both
pork, and blood and pork, sausage.

In the tedious job of dismantling the beast care was at the highest to be sure that contaminates were at a minimum and that all of the part were cleaned and the refuse disposed of in a proper manner (buried in the going to be garden). The first item removed of course was the head, thoroughly cleaned and ready for baking, the first process in securing the main ingredient for tamales (shredded pork). Either Mrs.
Jojola or a designated neighbor would be in charge of baking the head and making the tamales.

The large black cast iron pot (about a 7 gallon size) was already heating up on the pyre built especially for this use. As the sliced fatty hide was cut into future pieces of chincharonas (chitlins to you other folks) the were put in the heating pot and rendered of its lard, removed and spices added while still hot. The waiting youngsters (me too) waited in line to savor the first of the offering from the guest of honor.

The distribution of the pieces parts of the dismantled beast was, I am sure, by some prearranged plan. But rest assured all of the participants went home with more than they came with, Nanna was always ready for the makings of bacon which she cured and the slab for the salt pork barrel.

I forgot to mention that as the fat was rendered it was strained through cheese cloth
pads into the clean coffee tins. The end product was pure white lard, a staple in good cooking: flour, some lard, salt, water for tortillas: heated lard for deep fried meats: and this is just a start.

Now I should tell you, those of you that didn't know my Nanna, she spoke seven different languages, English, French, German, Romanian, Polish, Russian, and Finnish. But not one work of Spanish, not a single syllable. Now Mrs. Jojola spoke
Spanish, and only Spanish. And to this day I know not how these two women communicated with each other. I know they did for I was caught by the passing of a simple phrase from Mrs. Jojola. Nanna was talking to Mrs. J. (Nanna speaking Polish) made a statement concerning my not eating as she thought I should. Well Mrs. J. said ' nothing wrong with David, he eats just fine with us.' So this will be the rest of the story concerning being chased by the girls.

I would sometime elude capture and go home, but more often than not in the attempt to escape one of the girls would shout out ' its time to eat ' I would try to free myself to go home and the next thing I would hear is ' it's your favorite ' and a description of my favorite 'tamales with green chili', enchiladas with chicken, beef, bean, cheese, there was always 'my favorite', so it was no wonder Mrs. Jojola gave me away, but it is okay, I still have a craving for Mexican food.
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Thanks to Alice and Marianne we have pictures of the event and descriptions of the festivities. They will tell you of the individual feelings about this event, the good, the extra good and dash of the gore. Pictures and comments found as the last item on the main menu "Matanza Hang the Hog". Thanks for dropping in. dave