This past Monday was the beginning of autumn, which in years past been somewhat of a sad time for my meat and fire loving alter ego, Joey Deckle, because it marks the end of the competitive barbecuing season. But not this time around. For in addition to being the start of fall and the autumnal equinox, Monday was also Il Buco's fifth annual Sagra del Maiale, or pig festival. There's nothing quite like an afternoon spent on a downtown Manhattan street eating roast pork with a bunch of like-minded carnivores to cure the end-of-summer blues.

This wasn't just any old roast pig though, it was a heritage breed called a Farmer's Cross, or Crossabaw. For those of you not up on heritage hogs, a Crossabaw is breed based on the Ossabaw blood line, the very pig Peter Kaminsky praised in his book Pig Perfect. It yields exceptionally rich moist meat and luscious fat. Lest I forget, it wasn't exactly a tiny pig either, it weighed in at 200 pounds. Such a beast would take a good 24 hours if it were to be cooked over smoke. When I asked Chef Ignacio Mattos how long it would take, he responded, "That's a good question. Hopefully about six-and-a-half hours. It's going on at 6 a.m."

The reason behind such a relatively short cooking time for such a large hog? A cooking method known as infernillo, literally little hell. When Chef Mattos told me that it took some 400 pounds of fuel, including lump charcoal and oak and cherry wood to cook the beast, I thought it sounded more like a big hell. Infernillo, is an Incan method of cooking that Chef Mattos learned from his mentor, the Uruguayan chef, Frances Mallmann. Essentially it involves roasting the pig on a shelf with an intense wood fire above and another below. Chef Mattos butterflied his Crossabaw and then seasoned it with rosemary, fennel pollen, garlic, olive oil, salt and pepper. The intense heat yielded some incredibly crunchy skin.



Since it was a festival, roast Crossabaw wasn't the only piggy on the menu that day. There were also six little piggies, pure-bred Ossabaw suckling pigs. They're only four weeks old, so they're not finished on acorns like full-grown Ossabaws. "These only eat milk and grass," Chef Mattos informed me. I could only bring myself to eat one tiny rib. Not because I have anything against eating baby animals, I was just too damn full. But what a rib it was, super juicy and supremely porky.

One of the reasons I was so full was that my plate also contained a lovely panzanella salad as well as a porchetta sandwich with blueberry balsamic mostarda. Il Buco's porchetta is also quite the meaty treat. It starts with Flying Pigs farms hogs that weigh between 220 and 275 pounds. They're split in half, deboned, seasoned with juniper, garlic, fennel pollen, sage rolled up and then and roasted in the oven for three-and-half hours. When Chef Mattos told me this process, I responded, "You must have a lot of trotters left over after that. Can I come by and get some?"

"We use those in the coppa di testa," Chef Mattos said. Something tells me I'll be heading to Il Buco for some Italian-style head cheese in the very near future.