Metanza

Last Saturday we went to a metanza, a traditional pig roast dating back to Spanish colonial times. My wife comes from a town about 30 miles south of here. Two of her cousins, with adjoining property on the mesa overlooking town, hosted the metanza.

I rode down with our nephew. We got there at dawn, just in time for the killing. Then we stood around drinking really good coffee while the viejos (old timers) got the pig ready, dressing it, shaving it, cleaning it, skinning it, cutting off the legs and head. Once they had it prep and parcelled out to the rest of us to cut all the meat into something we could cook, they sat in chairs around one of the 4 fire pits and started passing the whiskey.

I spent two hours cutting meat for chile. It's something I'm good at. My wife didn't show up until 10:30, but she'd already done her part. She spent 5 hours Thursday evening making chile & adova.

After half a day of work, it was time to eat. We had chile, carne adovada, beans, calavacitas, Navajo fry bread, and more. The fresh chiccarones were heaven, and my mother-in-law's biscochitos melt in your mouth.