It makes me crave raw vegetables...

On my way home from school yesterday I stopped by a neighbor's house to pick up some milk (they have cows and if I bring a 1/2 liter bottle, they give me milk), which inevitably becomes a lunch...
So when I walked into my yard, it was beginning to get dark. I could just make out Ciprian and a neighbor standing over a bloodied, still pig. Because in Romania, before Christmas, you buy a pig and butcher it. It's like Americans eating turkey for Thanksgiving, but more involved. This tradition is fading out in bigger cities, but in my village it is still strong. Beginning a couple weeks ago I began to see pigs in everyone's yard and now the event...


Vasile blowo-torched the hairs off, while Ciprian scraped off the charredness...



Taking a break from butchering...



Cipri enjoying salted, raw pig skin. It's his favorite.
I also got to taste it and will be fine if I never eat it again.



Taking care of the head. Ciprian, looking on, is trying to learn how to butcher so he can do it himself next year.



Flavoring the pot full of heart, lungs, liver, and pig ears.



Mamaitza preparing the intestines to make sausages with.
Taking care of the meat is a lot of work...



Newly cut pork stakes grilling out.



So we stood around at 10 o'clock at night, eating with a chunk of bread in one hand, a pork steak in the other and biting into whole cloves of garlic.