My Auntie Janet, eccentric and custodian of the family lore drove a turquoise Deux Chevaux along the winding lanes in the shade of oak and silver birch. Swathed in tweed suits so tight you could almost hear the fabric creak, her sensible walking shoes laced, hair tied back in a bun and the faintest trace of stubble on her chin she would take her place on the rug in front of the gas fire (she never felt comfortable sitting on furniture reserved in her home for guests). I cowered behind the armchair when she visited, shrinking from the lips that sought out my tender cheek. Having given birth to a child out of wedlock she never married, nor did she reveal the identity of her lost love. If regret gnawed at her heart she did not show it, ignoring the gossip. Month after month, year in year out she tended the graves of the infants enclosed in a meadow where cattle grazed, flicking at the clegs with their tails.

On the way back from holiday we would drop in at her cottage where she would fill the kettle straight from the burn there being no piped supply of water. The walls and floor were bare, the insides of her plain mugs stained with tannin (she did not own a china service hidden away in a cabinet to protect it from dust and sticky fingers). Words tumbled in a constant stream from her mouth, washing over me and away. She was not squeamish. If a beetle strayed over the threshold she would pick it up and toss it into the grass, much like the worms she collected for fishing bait.

In my grandfather’s notebook, I discovered two fragile sheets of paper, typed and folded, bearing her spidery signature.

Killing and Pickling of a Pig, year 1922
Mr. D D, of Fungarth, D, P-shire, fed a young pig for about eight months, and when ready to kill, it weighed 22 stones.
The old saying “there must be an “R” in the month when killing “was strictly adhered to then, as the flesh wouldn’t “keep” if pickled during the summer months, so my father did his in October. A pig should be killed when quiet, and never when excited. (October to March is ideal time). The pig was first stunned, on the forehead, and then an incision made in its throat, and it was then let out, and allowed to run round the yard, till all the blood ran out, or until she dropped, exhausted.
Previous to this an old-fashioned boiler was filled with water, and a fire lit underneath to have the water ready for scraping the pig, while it was still warm. The water had to be very hot, and 2 or 3 neighbours came to help scrape the pig. This was done, by immersing first one end of the pig in a bath of water, and scraped with long handled hoes, then the other end dipped in, and scraped in the same way.
Then the pig was opened (still warm). But before this, the pig was strung up to the rafters of an outhouse, or some such suitable place. The puddings to be cleaned, thoroughly, and then soaked in salted water overnight, then washed again.
If blood for the making of black puddings was required, blood had to be caught, and switched while still warm, then oatmeal, etc., added.
Average length of skin from inside pig is 36 yards.
In the morning when pig was cold, my mother helped with the “cutting up”, and giving instructions to her husband, the different joints required, and the sizes.
My mother previously got the “salter” ready to take the pieces for pickling.
A mixture of salt, and coarse sugar, sage or bay leaves, a little saltpetre, and vinegar, was got ready, but I do not know in what proportions. Before immersing each piece, it was liberally rubbed all over with the brine mixture. Then the pieces were turned every day.
Then they were placed in the tub, they were packed neatly round in layers, and on top of each layer was sprinkled another coating of salt, until the tub was full. Then the lid tightly fixed on. As the salt melts on top, strew more salt on. Lay a cloth over this, and a weight, if necessary, to keep the pork down. I see my father’s tub has a cleek on it, to which I suppose he tied the lid down. Keep pork always down in the brine.
If excluded from the air at this time, it should keep for up to two years.
When the salt was all melted, which normally takes 6 to 8 weeks, depends on animal, and time of year, the pieces were then lifted out, and rinsed well under cold water, and dryed, and if available, can be wrapped in muslin, and then hung up to dry. Usually this was done on the farm house kitchen rafters, and it kept well for a very long time. Some old recipes said a month in the brine was sufficient. When we went visiting, we were given a piece of the pig to take to our special friends, and anyone who was poor, or lived alone. It was a great stand by, when there was no other income, but my father’s pay or around 30/- each week.
The By Products from the Innards
The trotters made grand potted hough.
White Puddings contained oatmeal, onions, and the fat, or lard, and seasoning, well mixed and filled into the skins, and tied, or twisted lightly, then boiled for at least 1 hour.
Pig’s Cheek. Split head, and take out brains and cut off ears. Put head into salted water for one night, and then boil slowly, till bones will come out freely. Now remove skin carefully, and mince the meat while still warm. Season with pepper and spices, (nutmeg and mace if liked). Press minced meat firmly into a pudding bowl, put weight on it, then it will set firm, and can be cut just like sausage meat.
“Marach” is a Gaelic word for a mealy pudding done in a pan. I still enjoy this meal, once a week, with tatties and turnips.
I fry some onions in good quality roast, or any dripping, and I leave a fair amount of fat in the pan, depends how many I intend to feed, then add handfuls of meal, till it absorbs all the fat. Season this, and just cook it for a minute or so, then add a little boiling water, or better still, stock off some beef, and stir, off the fire, till it thickens. It must not be left to boil too long, as it turns out like porridge. If the stock or water is boiling, it should thicken itself, and that’s where the secret in good marach-making lies, especially the kind of dripping. Most people call it “Skirlie”, and it’s done without adding the water. But the old way, I think, is best. It tastes like haggis.
We also made haggis when we killed the pig. The fat was all saved and cut up and boiled, a little salt and water added, and boiled till it was clarified and clear. This was excellent for cooking, also made grand oatcakes.
We also made sausages.
When going to use a piece of pork for cooking, it must be left in cold water overnight, or longer, changing water frequently, to remove some of the salt and to enable it to be cleaned. If wanted for boiling, put on in cold water and bring to the boil gradually, and remove scum as it rises. Simmer gently till tender and do not let it boil fast. It neds a little longer time, if pig is very fat. Nothing is more disagreeable than underdone pork, and when boiled fast, the meat becomes hard.
At the time of killing, the best and primest cuts ran at 8d to 10d per lb.
It is far better to leave the crust on when cooking as the natural juices will be preserved, also, will cook in less time, if roasting it.
Another method to melt inner fat from pig is putting it in a stone jar or vessel, and placing this in a saucepan of boiling water, previously stripping off the skin. Let it simmer gently, and as it melts, pour it carefull from the sediment. Put it into small jars or bladders, and keep it in a cool place.
The “Flead” or inside fat of the pig, before it is melted, makes exceedingly light crust for pastry and is particularly wholesome. It may be preserved a length of time by salting it well, and is then good for all kinds of cooking and takes the place of lard.
When boiling pork LEAVE TO COOL in the water which it was boiled in, overnight.
Pickling tub was converted from a whisky barrel which held corn for the last few years. Perhaps the whisky kept the tub in good heart all those years.
[Signed] J. D, 21st May, 1970

[The transcript of the document preserves the original spellings and punctuation, only the proper and place names have been edited].