PURSITà (the "à" key doesnt do capitals)

**details of carnage ahead, stai attento

ugh. completely disgusting. arrived at porchis 9am tuesday morning, to find it dark and cold inside. a sign on the door read, (i pieced together because it was written in friulano) "private party today! come back tomorrow and reap the benefits!", and 4 already grungy and jolly friulian men were sitting inside on bar stools, sipping espressos splashed with grappa. Fabbio, who is always robust and adorable, shouted, "merecàn! the pig is almost here!", and passed me an espresso and grappa as well, which i drank greatfully, both out of respect for tradition, and as an attempt to regulate my body temperature, which had dipped below normal in the frigid morning air. the butcher arrived and unloaded an already dead, already partially disassembled pig, nice and cleaned (boiled a bit) and pink. it still had its eyeballs and curly tail and internal organs intact inside the rib cage. fabbio pulled out the organs first thing and hung them on a hook, slicing the lungs with a long knife to release the blood. did not realize lungs held blood. thought only oxygen? my god, those things dripped blood in a slow steady stream for 8 hours. ok, am fine. trying not to think about it. anyway, the men went to work cutting the pig into probobly 800 little parts, meat and fat (good and bad) and bones, and every tiny piece went into one of five piles, and the bones went in a big bucket on the floor. this took a long, long time, but the norcett (friulian word for the guy who does the pursità, in charge of how to cut and trim and seperate and season and spice and grind and case and hang), a legendary cormonese norcett named Eric (FL told me i wasnt allowed to go to the purstià when he found out eric was going to be doing it, cause he's too pretty, but i told him not to worry, theres no other boy for me...especially not one who spends every day up to his elbows in dead animal. i bet the smell never leaves him, acidic sort of, sour, bloody...ok, i'm ok) knew exactly what to do, and did it with precision and an almost 6th sense, his hands just moved as though he wasnt even thinking about it. the pig seemed to just fall apart, parts connected by tissues and tendons that fell away like puzzle pieces when the knife came down. the talk was jovial, and fabbio explained wonderfully why each piece went into each pile, and what was to be made, and how. we were making salami, salsiccia, something in friulano that i had never heard of before that i can't remember how to spell, lardo, and pancetta. for the lardo the fat was cut out of the animal, and in some places there were slabs of fat 4 inches thick! fabbio explained the necessity of cutting off the bad fat from the good fat, which was obvious enough to see with the naked untrained eye: the good fat was pretty, white and firm and made a sound "thwok" sound when it was layed down on the metal table. the bad fat was gross, gooshy and pink and i guess just cellulite-type nastyness. with the good fat some was dispersed among the other piles, and some was layed out in giant blocks, then seasoned heavily with salt and pepper (some people use rosemary as well) and layed in a cool storage room, where it would sit for only 3 days before being ready to eat. the pancetta came from the meat in the ribs and chest area, good red meat and fat cut directly from the bones. it was in beautiful slab form as well. eric put the slabs piece by piece in a bucket, and seasoned each side with salt and pepper and white wine vinegar. after a could of hours the slabs were rolled into thick fat tubes, tied with string, and then cased in intestines. tiny airholes were punched (by yours truly) and the pancetta was taken to hang in the storage room, where it will stay for a year or two until its ready to eat. the salami was made by grinding the good parts from the rest of the body, the legs and thighs and back. seasoned with salt and pepper, coriander and cinnamon, and a little white wine vinegar, it was all mixed together by hand, like a ginormous hamburger, something like 101.3 kg of ground pork. while all of this was going on, the room was full. not only fabbio and the three norcetts and myself, but all the local youth and friendly porchis faces kept popping in, drinking beers and cracking pig jokes. it was really a community party for the porchis VIP. music was playing out in the restaurant and the grill was going, fabbio tossing the boys good cuts of tenderloin and ribs as he saw fit for them to grill and snack on. we ate a feast of fresh sausage and the livers (ew, but a friulian classic so i tried it), spritz and light grappa for lunch. when it came time to make the salami, it was like a crazy assembly-line of porchis kids, all of us finding a job. il biondo con il accindino (not so cute anymore, poor thing, puberty caught up with him) was there soaking the casing skins, and some others helped to grind, others to season. i did the hole punching and string tying. we knocked it out in 4 hours, other boys bringing beer and aqua as need be. every part of the pig was used. the bones were made into soup last night, and the bad fat shipped off to some lady in cormons who does god knows what with it. ears and feet and snout were pickled, and the chewy parts and other organs are made into a special salami, solely for the norcett, as a gift at the end.
FL came in at the end to retrieve me, and i stunk like blood and ground meat, but i was happy as a clam and ready for a bath. fabbio asked if i wanted to come the next day, to see the actual killing of another pig, but i told him no. id seen enough.

ooh, tutoring time! and tonight i think im talking FL into taking me to Al Giardinetto, the restaurant where the iron chef of italy works! will try and be real sweet and see if i can persuade him.