Phyllis’ Blog

You know how when you’re growing up, whatever you experience regularly is what you figure is normal? For me it was a two-kid family, grandparents next door, no TV–and stuffed pig stomach for holiday meals.

Okay, you were forewarned, and you can stop reading now if my elaborating on this epicurean delight threatens your stomach’s peacefulness. Growing up, I had no idea that this delicacy was a stomach-turning idea for people outside my part of the world.

Along the way I’ve learned how cultural food is. (I’ve never gotten hungry for dog, for example.) I thought the whole world ate stewed crackers and chow-chow. But I stopped talking about stuffed pig stomach—that blissful dish at the heart of our holiday meals—as people started gagging when I innocently mentioned it.

Let’s for a moment stop calling this dish what it is so I can describe why my brother and I fought over particular pieces of Mm-mmm-mm at the Christmas dinner, for those of you who are still with me. But first a little commentary about how this particular item became part of holiday feasts.

Butchering traditionally happened on the farm in the fall. And let me tell you, nothing was wasted—including a pig’s stomach.

The sausage-makers, who were standing around at this cold-weather event, knew the value of a good casing. The stomach was an au naturel casing, and it was stretchy and flavorful in the bargain. Some foodie (in those dimly distant 19th-century days) figured out that you could stuff the stomach loosely with a mixture of cooked bulk sausage, finely cubed potatoes, diced onions, salt, and pepper, all items within easy reach on the farm. Bake the stuffed stomach in a covered roaster with a little water in the pan to steam it, and watch what happens. Meanwhile, an aroma of richly roasting pork takes over the house.

It was a glorious moment of innovation mixed with conviction against wastefulness. Not only that, the taste of the baked dish turned out to be crisply, brownly, chewily delicious. Which led to the stand-offs at our extended-family holiday meals. You can cut the nubbly little ends of a roasted Mm-mmm-mm into only three or four tiny pieces before you’re smacking your lips on a vapor or a memory.

A few years ago we convinced my mother that she had done more than her full term of service, and that those in my generation should step in to prepare the core of our extended-family holiday meals.

Our younger daughter seemed concerned. At least she requested a hands-on lesson with her grandma during which she and I could learn the fine art of stuffing a pig stomach. My mother happily and kindly obliged.

It’s my turn to make the main dish this year. I tested the pig-stomach idea on our immediate family when we were all together for Thanksgiving. The vote was unanimous—in favor.

There are a few local butchers who offer pig stomachs, but you have to order them since they’re not automatically in demand. I’ll ask my mother and daughters to stand by during the stuffing step—so I get it right, and so that this tradition is sure to be carried forward.

As usual, we’ll fill several baking dishes with the sausage-potatoes-onion stuffing-only for those skeptics around our table. Which—wink, wink—only means more of the browned and chewy delicacy for the rest of us!