chickens and veal and pigs, oh my!

Contrary to what I (and probably many of my friends and family) would like to believe, I am actually working out here. No need to report me to the authorities for violating my work visa, please, it’s just that even I forget sometimes. Still, somehow I’ve managed to have a few stressful days, even with my often short shifts. Yes, somehow 10-12 hours has become, in my mind, a short shift. I digress. In a really cool, flattering way, I have complete freedom to create what I want with whole lambs and pigs. Some of my favorite preparations are old-school methods involving slow-roasting and braising. In fact, I’m often more interested in eating a melting braise than the more toothsome roast.

Four veal heads arrive today. I’ve cooked a veal head before and it came out quite nice, thank you, but have never had the opportunity/challenge of actually peeling the face from the bone. The one time I’ve encountered a veal head was in France, on my previous real out-of-country adventure, and the butcher magically took care of it within mere minutes. Today I get to learn on the fly. Best part about it: five hours into my day, Vlad and I leave for a football match; the lines of work and play ever blurred…

On Sunday I am told we’re driving out to the countryside early to witness the slaughtering of a banker/farmer’s pig (look for pictures next week!). Not any ordinary pig, this is a fatty indigenous black-haired, red-meat animal known as Mangalitsa. I’m to come up with how to use most all of the carcass. In many ways an awesome opportunity, I have my apprehensions. I also find it saddening that I will not be here to sample some of the products that will take months to mature: bacon, cured leg (jamon or prosciutto), cured lard. Another reason for a return vacation, I suppose.

So what’s stressful about this situation? Why am I whining (well, actually, I didn’t think I was whining!), you might be asking? I lack the team and support structure I had back in the US (thank you all). I have learned a lot from my experiences, and have great ideas, but it’s difficult to execute them when the restaurant’s butcher himself uses dull knives and does not speak a lick of English. There’s something I have yet to put my finger on, some sort of hands-off approach to teamwork, where I can be in the weeds, but the guys beside me banter and pour themselves tall glasses of Coca Cola. All day long I hear Serbian, with only the occasional translation. I’d love to learn some, and plan to, but am having trouble with the software I’ve downloaded. Still, I love this sort of challenge. I thrive under this sort of stress and pressure. And, frankly, I love that when I finish my list, or at least my task at hand, that I can go sit on one of the sidewalk chairs by our back door, and take a breather. I suppose that in itself is what makes this all seem like vacation. What an awesome gig: I get to play with my food and eat it too.