“Baby” food, cochinillo edition
A new limited edition series, starting with Spain’s suckling pig
Sometimes you just had to be there.
Way back in 2014, I was visiting David in Madrid with our mutual friends. For two of us (myself included), it was our first time visiting the city, which meant seeing lots of places but also trying lots of new foods. If you’ve been reading Come como Kiki for a while, you’ll remember that I studied abroad in Valencia when I was in college, but that culinary experience was somewhat lacking, so I had some catching up to do.
One night at dinner we were going over some of the foods we were slated to try, and we noticed a pattern: there were lots of (what seemed to us to be) baby animals. Baby lamb, baby pig, baby squid, baby fish, baby shrimp… what was up with Spain and their love of eating babies?1 Thus the inside joke of #WeEatBabies was born.
Eight years later, the joke may not be quite as funny (in fact it may be a bit morbid now that I think about it), but it did give me a good idea for a series: a review of all the things eaten in “baby” form in Spain.
Today we’re starting with suckling pig, aka cochinillo.
Cochinillo (literally “little pig,” from the word cochino for pig and the diminutive -illo to indicate something small), or more specifically cochinillo asado,2 is a traditional dish that is popular in central Spain. It is characterized by roasting an entire suckling pig in the oven, seasoned with nothing more than salt. When prepared well, the result is crispy skin that gives way to tender, jugoso3 meat. In fact, one of the most llamativo4 things about cochinillo is the fact that it is cut with a dinner plate to demonstrate just how tender it is.
Cochinillo asado is not for the faint of heart. Traditional restaurants are proud of the dish, which means they bring the pig to your table—still intact, head, hooves, and all—to present it to you before serving. If you happen to find yourself at one of the famous cochinillo restaurants, the experience also includes the aforementioned spectacular of slicing the pig with a plate, frequently accompanied by several people standing around to film the event with their phones. I have friends who won’t set foot in a traditional cochinillo restaurant, and I respect that. Vegetarians proceed with caution.
My first experience eating cochinillo was the year of the trip with my friends, in the historical city of Segovia. Although Segovia is widely known for its stunning Roman aqueduct, its mascot would probably be a cochinillo. In fact, Segovian cochinillo is so renowned that in 2002 a Marca de Garantía5 was created to set standards for a true cochinillo segoviano. You can read more here, but some of the most important criteria are as follows:
The piglets must be from the province of Segovia.
The farms on which the pigs are raised must exclusively be dedicated to raising Segovian cochinillos.
The weight of the pig should be 5.2-7.3 kg (approximately 11.5-16.1 lb).
The maximum age at matanza6 should be three weeks.
The cochinillo should only be fed its mother’s milk.
As I mentioned above, cochinillo asado (at least the traditional version) is only seasoned with salt. The only other ingredient permitted according to the Marca de Garantía is water. Other parameters related to the preparation of the pig include that its skin should be golden and crunchy all over (see the video I uploaded below—listen to that crack of the skin!), it should be roast whole or en medios,7 and it can’t be reheated (so it has to be prepared in the moment).
Cochinillo is typically served in three different cuts: front leg, back leg, or ribs. Technically there are seven portions in an entire cochinillo: two front legs, two back legs, two sets of ribs, and the head—for some people the head is the most prized part. When you order cochinillo at a restaurant, you sometimes can request a specific portion of the pig, but they usually don’t guarantee that you’ll get that cut. I prefer either of the patas,8 which have a higher meat-to-fat ratio compared to the ribs, resulting in a less gelatinous texture. That fat is important, though—the mixture of salt, water, and the pig’s propia grasa9 is what combines to form a savory sauce that’s served alongside the meat.
One of the most famous restaurants for cochinillo (and my personal favorite) in Segovia is Restaurante José María. It’s owned by José María Ruiz Benito, who first opened the establishment in 1982. Some restaurant owners take a hands-off approach, but not Ruiz Benito—you can frequently spot him in the dining rooms, greeting customers and cutting cochinillo. He’s very personable; when my mom came to visit a few years ago we actually met and took a picture with him.
Of course, Segovia isn’t the only place to eat cochinillo (although if you want to eat the best, that’s where I would send you). There are scores of restaurants that serve the dish in Madrid and the surrounding provinces. Or you can make it at home. David’s family has a tradition of eating cochinillo on New Year’s Eve, and his mom makes it at home right in her oven. Homemade cochinillo asado is a task easier said than done if you want to achieve the crispy skin and juicy meat associated with Segovian standards—lucky for us, David’s mom nails it every time.
In case you want to try your hand at making cochinillo asado on your own, José María has a video explaining the process. I’ll leave it below, but again, a warning that baby pigs are ahead.
Thus concludes our first foray into “baby” food in Spain. Now I turn it over to you: have you ever eaten suckling pig? If so, how was it prepared? If not, do you think it’s something you would like to try? Comments are open below!
See you Friday!
Ki
On “baby” animals: While some of the animals are true babies, like suckling pig and suckling lamb, some are just smaller versions of the animal, and others are even at their full adult size and are in fact a different species (like camarones, which look like “baby shrimp” but are not actually the same animal).
Asado: Roasted
Jugoso: Juicy
Llamativo: Striking
Marca de Garantía: Guarantee certificate
Matanza: Slaughter. I put it in Spanish because it sounds (slightly) less brutal to English-speaking ears.
En medios: In halves
Pata: Leg
Propia grasa: Own fat
I was so excited to see him work and the anticipation was high! I really didn’t care for it much but Kiki said I probably got the grizzle so David ate it! I think the next time I’m there I will pay attention to what part I get!
Lucky J loves pork as I will now be planning a suckling pig-based city break.