Across Cultures, Across Generations: The Beloved Pig in My Kitchen and Heritage
Across Cultures, Across Generations: The Beloved Pig in My Kitchen and Heritage
When I think about the comfort foods and memories that shaped me—whether growing up in Guyana, celebrating in Brooklyn, or connecting to my Chinese ancestry—so many of those flavors are anchored by one humble but mighty animal: the pig. Across continents, across generations, pork has been a constant thread, weaving together diverse people, histories, and culinary traditions into a tapestry of shared culture.
Caribbean Roots: Nostalgia and Comfort
From the earliest days, pigs have flavored my life and every celebration. As a child, hot, smoky barbecue pork and pig's feet simmering in a pot weren't just food—they were a joyful ritual. Pigtails were an essential addition to cookup rice in Guyana, their saltiness and richness transforming every grain. Jamaican stew peas aren’t complete without that unmistakable pigtail flavor, and no Caribbean soup, especially red pea or gungo pea (pigeon pea), is quite the same without some pork swimming in its depths. These dishes aren’t just recipes—they’re family traditions, comfort on a plate, and a reminder of home.
In the Caribbean, souse—a dish of pickled pig’s feet, ears, and snout—takes humble cuts and elevates them into a cold, spicy favorite at parties and comforting Sunday suppers. This ingenuity, born from making the most of every part of the pig, echoes in households from Barbados to Trinidad to Jamaica.
Guyana, Jamaica, the South: Pork as Connection
Growing up, my meals celebrated the South as well. In deep Southern kitchens, pig’s feet, ham hocks, pigtails, and chitterlings find their place in turnip and rutabaga greens, stews, and soul food classics. The “pig pickin’” barbecue is a tradition that brought neighbors together, the aroma of slowly cooked pork a signal for joy, reunion, and community.
Rutabagas with Hamhocks
These traditions flow seamlessly into Caribbean kitchens, where the pig's versatility—salted, smoked, stewed—means it shows up in everyday dishes and festive feasts alike. The way salt pork seasons a pot of greens or a bowl of soup in both the South and the islands is proof that our plates—like our people—have always intermixed and innovated.
Haiti: Spiritual and Social Symbol
In Haiti, the pig transcends just being sustenance; it has spiritual and economic meaning. The native Creole pig was at the heart of Haitian rural life and ceremonies, especially the pivotal Vodou rituals that catalyzed the Haitian Revolution. Nearly every rural family once raised pigs, and selling a pig paid for school, weddings, and emergencies—a literal “savings bank on hooves.” The story of the Creole pig’s near-extinction in the 1980s is a story of both heartbreak and resilience for Haitian farmers and culture.
Haitian griyo (fried pork shoulder) is a beloved national dish, ritually marinated in citrus and spices before being fried and served at joyous gatherings. Here again, pork isn’t just a food—it's a connection to ancestry and a symbol of community.
Chef Ayana’s Homemade Griot
Asia and Chinese Heritage: A Sacred Legacy
The pig’s story flows into my Chinese heritage as well. In China, pigs were among the first domesticated animals, a symbol of prosperity, luck, and family. Even the Chinese character for “home” (家) combines roof and pig, reflecting how central pork is to everyday life. Nearly every part of the pig gets used: from braised trotters (like the ones in my Caribbean memories!) to ear, belly, and sausages.
For centuries, pork has been the celebratory meat in Chinese culture, a dish for festivals, ancestor offerings, and simple weeknight comfort. Pigs are believed to bring wealth and abundance, and pork dishes are cherished for their flavor and their deep roots in tradition.
Uniting Us All: More Than Meat
For me, the pig represents far more than a set of ingredients. Whether it’s salted pigtail in a Guyanese cookup, ham hock in collard greens in the Deep South, griyo at a Haitian fête, or braised pork belly at a Lunar New Year table, there is a shared essence: comfort, ingenuity, resilience, joy. These recipes—handed down, tweaked, and remixed over generations—remind us that we are all part of a larger story.
Guyanese Cook-Up Rice
The pig is an enduring symbol not only of nourishment, but also of unity. Across cultures, the animal has filled our plates, our celebrations, and our traditions with flavor and spirit. At Cooking with Ayana, every dish that features pork is a love letter to my ancestors—and to all the global communities that prove, through food, we are indeed all connected. One family, many kitchens, *one love.
There’s something truly magical and universal about the scent of pork slow-roasting—especially when it comes to pernil. Just the mention of pernil instantly brings me back to cherished moments, wandering through neighborhoods in New York, especially Harlem, where the aroma from Dominican and Puerto Rican restaurants pours out onto the sidewalk. You catch that distinct, irresistible scent: garlicky, herby, juicy pork, and the promise of that crispy, golden skin—what Puerto Ricans call “cuerito.” It’s no surprise that this is the dish of celebrations, holidays, and everyday gatherings alike.
Pernil is so much more than just food in Puerto Rican culture; it’s a statement, a centerpiece. The slow-roasted pork shoulder, marinated with garlic, sofrito, and spices, emerges from the oven with a crunchy exterior and meltingly tender meat below. And the chicharrón—that crisp crackling skin—is pure joy on a plate, vivid in memory and taste.
Every time I passed by those restaurants with the pig roasting in the window, it stopped me in my tracks. It’s as much of a local tradition in the Caribbean communities of Harlem and Uptown Manhattan as it is on the island itself. The electric energy, the clatter of conversation, the anticipation building around the pernil—there’s a unity and excitement that radiates out and draws communities together.
And let’s not forget chicharrón—whether it’s traditional crunchy pork skin, fried pork belly, or even the chicken versions served up in Dominican and Puerto Rican spots, it’s a favorite across Latin America and the Caribbean. The crispy, briny, deeply savory bites are a perfect match for rice, beans, and tangy sides. The sound and smell of chicharrón frying remind me of the heart of the kitchen, where flavor and love come together with every batch.
But what’s beautiful is how these flavors cross cultures. That window-roasted pig, so central in Puerto Rican and Dominican hubs, isn’t so different from the glossy, peak-crisp skinned pigs hanging in the windows of Chinatown. I remember peering into those Chinatown storefronts, marveling at the technique and reverence for pork. The seasoning—whether it’s the Chinese five-spice and soy, or Puerto Rican oregano, garlic, and sofrito—echoes the same respect for whole-animal cooking and the communal spirit behind every meal.
And when you travel through Harlem for Hispanic food, it’s the same melody: kitchens that unite people, windows that tempt with their display of mastery, and an aroma—a signature, really—that needs no translation. Food like this connects us, reminding us that, from Puerto Rico to the Dominican Republic, from Harlem to Chinatown, the love for tender, crispy, roasted pork is truly universal. What a
Republic, from Harlem to Chinatown, the love for tender, crispy, roasted pork is truly universal. What a joy it is to celebrate, remember, and share those flavors through every meal and everyd every memory.
