Final thoughts, the leg of pork, the wish list

by Maria Titizian

Published: Saturday December 22, 2007 in Living in Armenia

The much cherished leg of pork that can be found in every hearth in Armenia on New Year’s Eve. .

The holiday season has always left me a little befuddled. Having to deal with the rigid customs and traditions that Armenians in the homeland follow has had its ups and downs. Back in 2001 a single leg of pork had me stumped. We had only been in the homeland for a few months when we had to begin preparations for New Year's Day. I had managed to pick up the mandatory Russian terms and local jargon necessary for me to manage at the markets. But nothing had prepared me for the leg of pork.

While discussing the holiday customs in Armenia with a local girlfriend of mine, she gave me a quick rundown of everything that I should have prepared for my New Year table. The main centerpiece was to be the leg of pork that no Armenian table could or should be without. When she saw my blank stare she promised that she would accompany me to Malatia, where they had the best prices on pork. So off we went to the Malatia market. It was a cold winter day and I was wearing jeans and a bomber jacket. She gave me the once over and told me not to speak to the vendors. My only duty during the expedition was to pay once a final price had been agreed upon.
We walked into the building where all the butchers had placed their wares. It was a long, narrow structure with makeshift tables set up with every kind of animal part imaginable. If my memory serves me correctly, I think I saw some stalls with cows feet, but that of course was the story of the khash.

I was wonderstruck at my friend Hasmik's ability to size up, prod, and negotiate prices for the leg of pork. My leg of pork, to be exact. She finally found one she considered was the perfect one for the right price. It looked too big to be a leg of pork but what did I know? The agreed price was 10,000 drams. I obediently pulled out my wallet and paid the vendor. We walked out of the meat market lugging our large package, Hasmik smiling radiantly and I wondering what on earth I was going to do with it.

While in Malatia Hasmik insisted that we needed to buy dried fruits and nuts for my New Year's table. So off we went to the next station. I was reminded once again that I was not to speak. Hasmik helped me decide not only what to buy but how much to buy. Once this task was accomplished, we trudged back to the car. After placing our packages Hamsik turned to me and said, "Maria jan, it doesn't matter whether you speak or not, they figured out you were a spyurkahay and that's why I couldn't get the best prices I normally would have." Well, there you go.

After elaborate instructions on what to do with the pork, Hasmik left me and wished me luck. I was to put the leg of pork in my freezer and then five days before New Year's I was to take it out of the freezer to let it thaw. Once thawed I had to puncture holes in the leg of pork and place it in water to let the blood and whatever else drain from it. There were other things I needed to do, but I was in such a state of shock that I can't recall them now. When the much-anticipated day arrived, I took out the leg of pork from my freezer and placed it on my kitchen counter. I watched the leg of pork the whole day in what I can say was a feeling pretty close to horror as it slowly thawed.

As the hours ticked by so did my nerves. It was covered in fat and since I suffer from a mild aversion to raw meat as it is, I was wondering what I was going to do. My husband was out of town and would be returning on New Year's Eve, so he was no help. My children, God bless them, would help me out with it now but back then they were just little things who were wondering why their mother was in a state of paralysis. At one point I was seriously considering throwing it out in the trash.

But then I thought of all the people I saw and knew personally who would be mortified at my actions - wasting an expensive piece of meat, so treasured, would be considered sacrilegious. So I did what any other confused spyurkahay in this situation would do. I called another friend and asked if he had purchased a leg of pork - knowing that he most probably wouldn't have been able to afford one - and luckily for everyone involved, he hadn't. So I asked him to come by to pick up a package. I happily handed over the leg of pork, a huge weight lifting from my shoulders, and I was pleased that I had found a solution to this dilemma. Ahh, but my dilemmas simply create new ones. Later that evening my friend's wife called and assured me that she would prepare the leg of pork for me and send it back in time for New Year's Eve.

That was my first and last experience with a leg of pork. I chose to introduce Western Armenian cuisine to my Eastern Armenian friends during the holidays, assuring my piece of mind and introducing a little bit of novelty for them.

That first New Year's we spent in Armenia was bittersweet. While we were thrilled that we had realized our dream of repatriating, we were a little lonely, far from our family and everything that was familiar. So instead of being overwhelmed by customs heretofore unknown, we chose to embrace them in our own unique way.

This year will be the seventh New Year's we are spending in Armenia. There will not be a leg of pork on my table, but it will be full of the traditions my mother imparted to me. With all the love and care of her work-worn hands, she bestowed a whole generation's love and affection upon me. Through her example she taught me to be patient, resourceful, compassionate, and generous. With all the crippling difficulties she along with her generation suffered, she never had a cruel word to say about anyone and continues to be the shining example of Armenian womanhood and motherhood for me.

In honor of all those people who love us, who guide and teach us, the following is my wish list for 2008.

I wish that we could finally begin to heal from our past wounds and injustices. I wish that we could embrace and appreciate the heritage bequeathed to us. I wish that we could face our shortcomings and errors in judgment as individuals and as a nation and own them completely. I hope that we continue to hunger for enlightenment. That while we educate our children we remember to cherish our elders. That we remember the farmer who places food on our table; the laborer whose back-breaking work helps to rebuild our country; the teacher who instructs minds and provides impetus to new and creative flight of minds; the single mother, the lonely grandfather, the street urchin begging for food. I hope we remember all of them in our prayers. Above all else, I hope that we remember to empower and give opportunities to our young people upon whose shoulders the next generation will have to stand.