I've learned to assume while ordering at restaurants with a group that at least one or two companions will refuse to eat pork. There are various reasons. The main one seems to be health and the threat of fat and cholesterol. Another is the increasing popularity of vegetarianism (and there are various reasons for that conversion too). Then there is the growing population of pork-abstaining Muslims. (When I was in the US, I hung out with Jews who shared that one abstention with Muslims. So at least on that item they have something in common)

On top of all these are the diseases that periodically strike piggeries and the consequent fears and spikes in pork prices.

Let me add another reason to stay away from pork: piggeries cause pollution. Most pig waste ends up in waterways, creating not only threats to public health but a nauseating stench that can turn gentle neighbors into would-be murderers. About three fourths of the nation's pigs are produced not on factory farms but in backyard pens, often in the midst of crowded neighborhoods. Anyone who has lived near an unkempt pig knows that its stink sticks to your skin and clothes.

It's useful to remember that the expression "Ang baboy!" refers to the sloppy habits of people and not to the nature of pigs, whose wild species the boar, or baboy damo, are actually naturally clean creatures. The term probably originates with the unsanitary maintenance of backyard pigs, thus the smell and reputation. So don't blame the pigs!

I did both an I-Witness documentary and an investigative report for PCIJ's i magazine a few years ago on the subject of piggery pollution, For the Love of Pork.

An English friend, David Fowler, who lives in Sagada, once butchered a pig. When I asked why he felt he had to do it, he told me, "If you eat it, you have to be willing to kill it." Made me think about quitting animal-eating altogether. That's partly the point of Omnivore's Dilemma, a recent book by Michael Pollan and my Christmas gift to my wife Ipat. Pollan writes in brilliant detail about the origins of four of his meals, the last one a wild pig that he shot in the forest. The point of his book is that we and the planet we live on would be much better off if we just gave a little more thought to where our food comes from and how it was produced. Then let our conscience do the rest.

The pictures below recorded the stages of a pig on Mount Banahaw before it ended up the succulent lechon in the photo above.



The piglet is delivered in a sack in the evening before its death. Young pigs make for the best lechon.



It is allowed a last few hours of fresh air while tied up.



It is killed and cleaned in the early morning hours, so there's time for the slow roasting over hot embers. Boiling water is poured on the carcass to make the fur easier to remove.



Clearing the pig's carcass of its internal organs is a little like home-made surgery.



Once cleaned, the pig is impaled on a bamboo pole with a sharp end and its limbs and mouth wired to the pole.



The pig stands ready for roasting.



The pig took about five hours to roast over glowing embers, its skin basted constantly to make sure it turns out crispy.



The lechon ends up on a large banana leaf.



The 30-kilo pig is chopped into many bite-sized chunks for lunch.