El Cochinillo Asado

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One of the most difficult things for students when studying abroad, is adjusting to new eating habits and a new diet. In a different country, the regions where we live, and even in our own family traditions we have acquired a certain taste for food and are drawn to what we are accustomed to eating. However, we all came to Spain with an open mind and were ready to try new things, still making sure to note special dietary concerns on our housing sheets such as allergies and vegetarianism. Although it took some getting used to, we have assimilated well to the culture of the siesta, longer hours between larger meals, and for those of us who eat meat, eating larger quantities multiple times a day. But nothing could prepare us for el cochinillo asado.

Segovia's specialty and claim to fame, el cochinillo asado is Spanish for "slow-roast suckling piglet." Unlike most of the meat products we buy in the United States, this lechón, or baby pig, is served, like a model on a stage, full body mode. This rich delicacy is served in nearly every restaurant, and following another tradition originally imposed by el Rey Enrique IV, these establishments must have royal authorization. Not only that, but as you are served, your waiter will read you the royal decree in Old Spanish and then cut through the piglet with a plate to illustrate its tenderness. Of course no one is forced to eat the Segovian staple, but there is no way to avoid its presence hanging by its pink hoofed toes in the windows of restaurants and carnicerías throughout the city.

Restaurant signs swing in the wind as the image of a flattened baby pig waves back and forth. Windows that maybe some wish were mirrors instead allow our eyes to see through to piglets whose hinds are pinched tight with saran wrap. Even the kitchen in my hosts' home has a post that supports the leg of a pig covered graciously with a towel that every so often Jesús removes to cut some slices of the dried meet to eat with our bread. One of the most gruesome windows we have seen was strewn just like stockings on a chimney, but with cow tongues as long as my arm, the jellyfish looking inner hide of sheep, pink dripping pig entrails, and other various animal parts. And while Dr. Shaw and I took pictures, Maddie and Sam could not turn away quick enough so not to get sick.

Although it may upset your stomach and to some even seem a little barbaric, the roots of this custom are nothing but the need to survive, the importance of protein in our diets, the availability of pigs, and yes, a royal decree by a power hungry king. As a girl who has grown up on tradition, I plan on trying cochinillo before our trip is over. Rather than looks, texture, or taste, it is the custom of eating roasted piglet that entices me the most. As something so unchanged by the course of history and untouched by technology, for once in my life I can truly eat a meal fit for a king.