From chopping the head off of a pig to eating spring onion raw...This is my first Croatian Christmas in Australia.
My partner is born to a family who migrated from Croatia to Australia roughly twenty years ago. They travel back to their mother land often and always return with amazing photos and stories to share. Today they shared more than just pictures and words, they shared their food.
When I first arrived at my partners grandmothers (baba's in her tongue) I was greeted to laughter, loud voices and a complete stranger telling me to grab a beer. I do not know if sharing of beer is generally a Croatian practice however it was welcomed on our balmy thirty five degree day.
As soon as my beer was opened I was beckoned towards one of the most amazing smells and ungodly sights that I have experienced. A pig on a spit. I was standing in front of a pig on a spit. To be honest, it took me all of five seconds to get over the fact that I was looking at a whole animal rather than the neat packet of pork from my local supermarket that I am used to.
This beautiful animal was being bathed in a delicious blend of olive oil and herbs regularly, constant adjustments being made to the spit to ensure that not one part of this delicious creature went to waste.
During the six hours that our lunch was cooking I was enjoying delicious appetizers which consisted of bread dipped in olive oil and balsamic vinegar, cheese and crackers, olives, dips, cherries and most importantly (as I am told) the prosciutto.
It was time, the pig was ready. I was informed that as a previous apprentice chef I had the honours of carving this masterpiece into portions fit for the family. To begin I helped to remove lunch from the spit. I was told - "If you feel the metal burning your hands, then it burns you. You are not dropping this fucking pig."
Well now my nerves were shot! However, I successfully transferred the pig from the spit to the table, and then it was time to begin the less than glamorous role of carving.
Apologies I didn't get a photo of the final result of two very large trays filled with meat, I was far too busy gorging myself on lunch. I can say that it tasted delicious. Every bite was a burst of flavour. The hours of cooking and basting made the pork so incredibly tender that just a fork would separate each piece. The constant basting ensured that every morsel of meat was moist and was full of flavour. Again, it was delicious.
Not long after lunch it was time for dessert. I sat back with family, laughing, talking and enjoying warm, soft and sultana filled prsunate. Or as I call them, Croatian doughnut balls.