01x05 - Pig

[bunniefuu]

[narrator] If a pig could speak to us,

what would it say?

I think about it all the time,

even as an omnivore.

Especially as an omnivore.

I think a pig may have questions.

"Why did you make us like this?

We used to be wild animals.

Now, we're a human creation.

A recipe refined over 10,000 years

of slow simmering.

We're different from the other animals

you've domesticated.

We don't bear your burdens.

We don't give you milk or fur

or rides across town.

We don't do much

except feed you."

But feed us they do.

More than any other animal on the planet.

Salted or smoked,

simmered or seared,

transformed into a million different

expressions of who we are.

In a quiet village in western Spain,

cast within a rolling sea of tiny shrubs

and ancient oaks,

there lives one particular pig

that has a lot to say about this.

[pig snorts]

His name is Antón.

And his journey is unlike any other

in the animal world.

[pigs grunting, snorting]

The story of Antón says a lot about pigs

but even more about us.

[teachers speaking]

[bell rings]

[teacher, in Spanish] Let's go.

[shushes] Get the pencils and the crayons

and go back to your seats.

MONDAY, JUNE 13TH

Do you know what day today is?

- [students] Monday.

- Monday. And what do we celebrate here?

The pig of San Antón.

Yes, the pig of San Antón.

And who is the pig of San Antón?

A little pig.

- [teacher] A piggy. Very good. Yes.

- [giggles]

Now we will all draw the pig of San Antón.

We start by drawing the nose.

And now,

we are going to draw a little ear.

A raised little ear.

[Redzepi, in English] Every year,

the village of La Alberca

receives the gift of a pig.

Not just any pig, but a cerdo ibérico,

the famous black-footed pigs

of central Spain.

[bell tolls]

The tradition of receiving a pig

stretches back centuries

and once occurred all throughout Spain,

where the pig was gifted

to the town's poor.

[bell rings]

But today, it lives on only

in this very special corner of the world.

[in Spanish] Dearly beloved,

may this animal whom we bless today

be of help to us.

And we, your servants,

shall look to the future with optimism.

- Through Jesus Christ, our Lord.

- [people] Amen.

[Redzepi, in English]

The pig, always called Antón,

is named for Saint Anthony,

the patron saint of animals.

After being blessed by the local priest,

Antón will wander the town freely,

being fed and cared for by the villagers

until the feast of Saint Antón

next January,

when he will be raffled off

to a lucky winner.

But, for now, Antón explores his new home

and his new neighbors.

[villager, in Spanish]

Come, handsome. Come. [clicks tongue]

Come. Come.

[Antón grunting]

How handsome.

You can eat it.

[clicking tongue]

Tastes so good, huh?

Tastes so good.

[Martín] Pigs are very curious animals.

They think with their stomachs,

but they are smart.

They are able to guess and learn things,

like how to come and go to get food.

Such a good breakfast.

- Do you want some coffee?

- Yes.

How is Antón doing?

I saw him yesterday in the town square.

He was around there.

- Mm-hmm.

- He's good.

He gets used to it fast

when we all treat him well and feed him.

People treat him well,

so he gets used to it quickly.

This ham is good.

[spouse chuckles]

[Martín] Pigs are sociable animals.

They are animals that are

as good of friends to humans as dogs.

In the end, they do give their lives

for the sake of humans.

I work in the world

of processing Iberian pork.

My company is Embutidos Fermín.

The story of Embutidos Fermín began

in the year 1956.

Our parents were very young,

and life was very difficult.

The consequences of the postwar period

hit very hard here.

The people of this land looked for

a way to survive,

many of them by migrating abroad.

My father had very strong ties

with this land

and refused to abandon his roots.

And so, he fought to find something

that could support his family

to build a life in his hometown.

He started a butcher shop

along with a friend.

Neither had any clue about this world,

and soon they realized that the butcher

shop couldn't provide for both families.

So, they decided

that they would let fate decide

which family would keep the butcher shop.

There was a long straw and a short straw,

and whoever picked the long straw

got to keep the butcher shop.

The one who didn't

would relocate to France.

Both of them got their passports,

and my dad grabbed the long straw.

He got lucky and got the butcher shop.

Together with my sister Paqui, we are

the second generation of this company.

And the third generation

is working as well,

since my daughter Soraya is

also part of it.

- Good morning.

- [Martín] Good morning.

Could you sign this order

for Vima, please?

Yes.

We've developed the company,

and we've become Iberian pork ambassadors.

[speaking indistinctly]

Fermín has become a source of employment,

an important one to this town.

[Redzepi, in English] An American butcher

might divide a pig into 12 pieces.

A Chinese butcher, maybe 18.

In Spain, a real butcher breaks down

a pig into 32 pieces.

A mixture of prized specialty cuts

sold fresh,

and upwards of a dozen different pieces

that will be salted and cured

to stretch through the seasons.

It's an ancient craft

that conveys both respect and necessity,

born out of a 2,000-year-old tradition

of turning a single animal

- into a year's worth of eating.

- [thuds]

As a diner,

I love pig for the same reasons you do.

The tender threads of flesh.

The crispy bits of fat.

The smoky, salty, savory notes

that make it so satisfying.

[Redzepi] As a chef,

I love it because with pig

you can do just about anything.

Charcuterie.

Barbecue.

Stews.

At noma, we even serve the crispy skin

dipped in chocolate for dessert.

For millennia,

cooks across the world have stamped

their cultures on its delicious flesh.

Here in La Alberca, there are more

pork recipes than there are villagers.

[baker] The most representative element

of this province is the pig.

It's one of the bases of the daily diet

of every family here.

We use every part of it.

[David] We take everything from the pig,

the pancetta, the bacon,

the secreto, the lagarto.

I don't know

which part of the pig is the best.

The hornazo is a traditional product

of Salamanca province,

prepared with the same dough

that normal bread is made with.

It also has olive oil, saffron,

and a little bit of pork fat.

This gives the dough a feeling

of fluffiness and softness.

That, plus the chorizo

and the loin from this region,

from the amazing pigs we have here,

especially in La Alberca,

makes a majestic and perfect dough.

[bell ringing]

Faithful Christians, let us remember the

death of the blessed souls in Purgatory

with an Our Father and a Hail Mary

for the love of God.

One more Our Father and one more

Hail Mary for those who are in mortal sin,

may your Divine Majesty take them

out of such miserable condition.

[ringing continues]

[Redzepi, in English]

The nightly incantations are meant

to keep the evil spirits at bay

from the village.

[in Spanish] One more Our Father

and one more Hail Mary

for those who are in mortal sin,

may His Divine Majesty take them

out of such miserable condition.

[Redzepi, in English]

There may indeed be a few ghosts

hovering about the cobblestones.

The ghosts of Antóns from centuries past,

back when the pig wasn't

a gift to the town's poor

but a tool for the Inquisition

to determine whether Muslims and Jews,

forbidden by their religion

from eating the animal,

had truly converted to Catholicism.

[chanting, ringing continue]

Why do you think so many dishes in Spain

are laden with pork?

[thunderclap]

[bell tolling]

[sighs]

[sniffs]

[Ruiz, in Spanish] My job at the city

council is to preserve this tradition.

And this year I took on the responsibility

of being his caretaker.

[whistles]

How are you, darling?

- [Antón grunting]

- Wake up. It is time.

Hello, love!

How are you, my dear?

I remember that on the first day,

he did what he wanted, of course.

He wanted to go in one direction,

and I wanted him to go in another.

Oh. Let's get rid of those bugs.

Yes, darling. Let's go.

I remember how our eyes locked.

We looked at each other thinking,

"What do we do?"

I thought, "Either you win or I do."

Let's leave. Let's go.

[whistles, smooches, speaks Spanish]

Since we had reached an impasse,

I gave him a candy.

So, I gave him a sweet tooth. [laughs]

What is it?

Come on, run. Let's go. Run.

[whistles, smooches, speaks Spanish]

There is a certain connection

between the pig and me.

Let's go, love. Run.

[farmer] Go, go, go, go, go!

[clicks teeth]

Where are you off to? [whistling]

Let's go! Let's go! Let's go! [whistling]

Oh, you.

[whistling continues]

[Redzepi, in English] If a pig

could speak, what would it tell us?

[clicking teeth]

[Redzepi] I think it might have

a lot to say.

About us

[whistling]

- [whistles]

- and the things we've gotten wrong.

"'You're as dumb as a pig,' you say.

But we beat monkeys and dogs

and other smart animals

in tests all the time."

- This year we had plenty of acorns.

- Aye, yes, plenty.

- They have all fallen to the ground. Yes.

- Yes.

[Redzepi, in English] "We're clever,

intuitive, highly social creatures.

'You're as dirty as a pig,'

you like to say.

You stick us in a sty

and then blame us for being dirty.

'You are a pig.'

How did that become the ultimate insult?

After all, we share most of your DNA."

[in Spanish]

Automatic and remote-controlled.

- Sure.

- For next time.

When we get electricity, we will.

After you.

[clears throat]

[Martín] We should take a closer look

to see if they're finished.

They may be heavy enough,

but I'm not sure they're finished.

No, some of them aren't.

These are eating only acorns?

Yes.

[Redzepi, in English] The cerdo ibéricos

that roam freely on the Fermín farm

live like few other domesticated animals,

let alone other pigs.

Each of the 1,500 animals has

500 square meters of open space.

An industrial pig, by comparison,

survives on just one.

It's here, throughout the fall,

where one of nature's

most lavish feasts unfolds.

La Montanera.

A buffet of fallen acorns that

will more than double the pigs' weight

before the winter sets in.

The resulting fat, sweet and nutty,

runs like rivers through the pigs' flesh,

making it one of the most

prized ingredients on the planet.

[Martín, in Spanish] They do nothing

but eat, sleep, and enjoy life.

It's something so simple and natural,

and we do very little to make them good.

All of the credit goes to the pig.

[Lorenzo]

I have a lot of enthusiasm for the pig.

I make traditional sweets.

I like to do many things in honor of

the traditions of my native land.

So, sometimes, I make creations

inspired by the pig of San Antón.

For example, the chocolate piglet,

floretas, sausages

and the chocolate nougat with ham.

When it passes by my bakery,

sometimes I give him a piece of bread,

which I think is the healthiest for a pig.

But sometimes I do give him a sweet.

One year I was making macarons,

a French confection.

I gave him one,

and he wanted to take the bag.

He wanted the whole bag,

so I had to give it to him.

The men and the visitors passing by

on the street asked me,

"What is it eating?"

I said, "Macarons!" [laughs]

And the pig began to eat

the sweets from the shelf.

It ate all it could.

The pig spoiled everything on the shelf

while I laughed.

I always identify the pig with my town,

the value of my people and our customs.

[bell tolling]

Shall we go find the piglet?

- Yes, the piglet.

- To the piglet.

It's not here. Where is he?

We have to look for him.

It's not here. He's hiding!

It's hiding?

From whom is he hiding?

From the big bad wolf?

Do you know what piglet we're looking for?

- Antón!

- Antón.

Antón!

[Martín Benito] When you think about it,

it's not normal

to have a pig roaming the streets,

and yet to us,

it's a completely normal occurrence.

As a child you see it down the street,

you chase it and feed it snacks.

"A pig lives in my town.

There isn't one in yours?"

He has a bell.

Have you seen the bell he has?

- [child] Yes.

- [Martín Benito chuckles]

When he was walking, the bell would sound,

and the people knew he was there,

they knew they had to feed him.

He doesn't have ears.

He doesn't have ears?

He has really big ears.

The tradition is very old,

but it was lost for several years

until my grandfather began it again

as an attempt to help

whichever family had a tragedy that year,

one that didn't have money to eat,

or any other problem.

Because you can eat every part of the pig,

getting a pig meant

you would have food for the entire year.

[Martín Benito]

He's looking for his grandpa.

[speaks Spanish, gasps]

- [child] Hello.

- [Martín] Hello.

[child, Martín speak Spanish]

[Martín] My father advocated

for the revival of this tradition.

Come, give me your hand.

When my parents were married

but still very young,

their house burned down.

They were left in the street with nothing,

and they experienced the generosity

of the town firsthand.

People helped them and gave them clothing,

found them a house to live in,

provided food and everything they needed

to start from scratch.

[child] The piglet!

- How does the piglet do?

- [child snorts]

- [Martín Benito chuckles]

- [Martín snorting]

[child] You don't know.

- [Martín Benito speaks Spanish]

- No, I don't know. How does it do?

- [child snorts]

- Ah, you do know.

- Yes.

- [Martín Benito chuckles]

Look, Santi, this is where Grandpa lived

when he was little.

We lived here for about 25 years,

using the same building for the house

- [Santi babbling]

- and the store.

That window was my room.

That's where I slept.

- We used to k*ll the pigs on the street.

- [Martín Benito] On the streets?

[Martín] Here.

And then we brought them inside

where we processed and divided them.

I have always been connected to them.

Animals are part of the town life

and they are part of our life too.

- Antón!

- [Martín] Antón!

- [Santi speaks Spanish]

- [Martín] Where are you?

Now the pig is raffled,

but it retains its purpose.

That feeling of helping others,

of coming together as a town,

it is a small gesture,

but it is something symbolic.

It is just a pig,

but we're going to do something together.

I don't like to use the phrase "to k*ll."

"To sacrifice" may sound harsher

than "to k*ll" to some,

but to me it actually sounds softer.

If I could go back in time,

I would probably not sacrifice animals

for a living.

I don't really like it.

It is what it is. It is the life I got.

Someone has to do it. After all,

we depend on them for our food.

We do our best to slaughter them

in the most dignified way

so that they suffer as little as possible.

[Redzepi, in English] Death happens.

It's one of few certainties in life.

But how a pig dies

and how it lives

says something about us.

Death in Fermín is as quick and as humane

as the end can be.

Elsewhere, in the mega factories

that process thousands of pigs a day,

well, that's another story.

We live in a world

where it's easy to look away.

But maybe we shouldn't. Not always.

It's uncomfortable to see an animal die.

Who wants to think about death

over eggs and bacon?

But perhaps confronting reality

is one of the ways to appreciate

where our food comes from.

One essential thing we can do,

regardless of how

the animals lived or died,

is to cook and eat everything.

And few people do that better

than the Spaniards.

Salt and time.

A recipe as old as cooking.

At its best, it's pure alchemy.

A method for extending the life

and intensifying the flavor

of a volatile ingredient.

The Iberians are ancient experts of salt,

and pork is their masterpiece.

Jamón ibérico de bellota spends six weeks

buried in a mountain of coarse salt.

Then it's hung in a giant aging room

with thousands of other legs

for at least three years.

Over time, the salt continues to work,

pulling out the moisture in the flesh

and concentrating the flavor of the jamón.

This room, this magical jamón room,

is the real church in Spain.

At the end of the road,

you have something extraordinary.

A concentrated bite of brilliance

that honors the life behind it.

[Sánchez, in Spanish] From the time

the pig is born,

until the ham gets to the table,

it passes through many different hands.

And us, the cutters,

we are the last step of that great chain.

With our cut, we can totally ruin the work

of a great number of people

who are behind it.

In the tasting and sampling of a ham,

the cut is 50% of its success.

[Martín speaks Spanish]

- Do you know what this is used for?

- What is it?

It's to do this.

Look, look.

- [bellows huffing]

- [flames crackling]

It is so easy. Now it is your turn, kiddo.

With both hands.

[Santi] What is it for?

[Martín] This thing blows air

so that the fire gets started.

This way. Very good!

- [Santi speaks Spanish]

- [Martín] Look at how it now burns.

We will stay warm.

[speaks Spanish]

[Martín] When I finished high school,

I was not planning on staying

in the company.

Not at all.

I studied medicine

and graduated in the year 1983.

But fate, luck-- bad or good luck,

I don't know, life,

wanted my dad to have a stroke.

- Come, so that she can sit here.

- [Santi speaks Spanish]

- [Martín Benito] Say "hello" to the baby.

- [baby hiccups]

[Martín Benito] He has the hiccups.

I felt the responsibility

to help my father,

and you don't realize

that the sum of all those days

where you were doing what you thought

you needed to do take you down a path.

I cannot remember ever having decided

or making an actual decision to stay here.

But life led me here.

[diners chattering]

[Martín] I practiced as a physician

for three years,

and when I stopped

and started staying here,

I did not miss it.

It was like this fulfilled me.

I studied to cure people

and ended up curing hams.

But it's also true that I learned

to cure hams first,

with my dad when I was young.

When I was a kid.

I had always lived in the business,

and it's something you carry inside.

[chattering continues]

His name was Fermín.

I think we've taken the name far.

Who's eating meat?

[diner] Mmm. So delicious!

[Martín] We have gone to Japan,

we have gone to China,

we have gone to the United States.

In that sense, I think he would be proud

of seeing his name all around the world.

To good health,

to those present and absent.

[Ruiz] I come from a family that

learned to use everything that we had.

Here we all are used to the cochifrito,

the pieces of the pig that are left.

Everything that is left over.

Anyone who goes to your house can eat

when there's a pig.

The serrano lemon

is a traditional dish from La Alberca.

I love it because it's curious

how opposite it is.

We are in a town above 1,000 meters

in altitude, oriented to the north,

and we don't have lemons or oranges.

Yet our traditional dish

uses lemons and oranges.

I imagine it has to do

with the trade we did with other places.

La Alberca has not been marked

by a single history,

but rather by the history

of every Albercano that has lived here.

[guest] Hi.

- Hi, guys.

- [both speak Spanish]

- [kisses] How are you?

- [groans] Good.

And you?

- Good.

- Hmm? Really good?

All right, love. How are you?

[Ruiz] This year, I noticed

I had a lump on my breast

and had some tests done.

They detected cancer.

Advanced cancer no less,

of the fourth stage.

Here you go. Help yourself to a little.

Try the cochifrito.

Do you prefer the little tail,

or do you prefer this?

[all speaking Spanish]

As always, no sauce.

I don't understand a man that likes

the bread, but doesn't like the sauce.

This is contradictory.

One day, I was really tired

after my chemo,

but the doctors told me

that I had to walk.

So I took the San Antón pig for a walk.

I did the same every day.

We began our daily walk, but at some point

I got so tired that I sat on a stoop.

[Antón grunting, snuffling]

Fifteen minutes later, I realised the pig

had turned around and was now by my side.

Hello, my dear.

What do you want? Should we go? [chuckles]

Do you want to leave?

Come, run! [smooches]

- Animals are conscious of everything.

- [Ruiz whistles]

If he takes it as something good or bad,

I don't know,

but it's something he notices.

[bells tolling]

The festival of the San Antón pig

will be emotional, but not sad.

We know this is what it is.

We know this is our tradition.

This was a beautiful experience

that I will keep for myself.

I have learned a lot from him.

There you go.

Both in life and death,

I think that at some point

it's your turn to be born and to die.

You have to live life,

it's why we're here.

There's no more rhyme or reason.

[Martín] I don't know

if animals have souls or not,

but I would almost dare to say

that they might.

They have something, because of

the way they interact with people.

After they die,

we keep them in our memories.

That's why we have a saying that goes,

"San Antón day comes for every pig."

If I ever win the pig

at the raffle of San Antón,

I'll bring it here

and keep it until it dies.

I have a lot of affection and respect

for the San Antón pig.

I have devoted myself to it.

I owe a lot to the pig.

[crowd chattering]

[traditional music playing]

[Redzepi, in English] After seven months,

Antón's big day has finally arrived.

Villagers pour into the plaza

for La Alberca's most famous pig.

[announcer, in Spanish] The San Antón Pig

tradition has been a display of solidarity

throughout the centuries,

and most of all, in these times.

[Redzepi, in English]

The festival honors the village tradition

of slaughtering pigs.

It's a day of festivities

that ends in a raffle.

The winner will decide Antón's fate.

But, for the residents of La Alberca,

the sense of celebration

and sacrifice remains.

[announcer, in Spanish] Thank you so much

for helping uphold this tradition.

This is what defines us.

And this is what makes us

unique to the world.

[Redzepi, in English]

Grateful for the food and attention,

Antón has been blissfully unaware

of the other side of the bargain.

Until today.

Maybe it's the crackle in the air.

Maybe it's the plethora of pork

being devoured across the village.

Maybe it's the crowd.

Hundreds of humans anxiously awaiting

the winning raffle number.

[announcer, in Spanish]

Now's the time! Time for the raffle!

Everyone, have your tickets on hand.

Let's see who gets lucky!

[Redzepi, in English] Or maybe

this is the year Antón might be saved.

[announcer 2, in Spanish] 4584.

[Redzepi, in English] If Antón

could speak, here on his last day,

what would he say?

He might say something like this,

"You and me,

we're more alike than you think.

I don't choose how I die. Neither do you.

But I don't choose how I live either.

[Antón snuffling]

I don't ask for much,

but if I could, I'd only ask this,

'let it be a decent life.'"