This swine diagram in the Oliveto back office pretty much sums it up.

Next to his desk in the Oliveto back office, Chef Paul Canales has taped a diagram that captures the restaurant's reverence for pork.

The diagram shows a hog divided into sections, such as the shoulder and the leg. All of these sections are labeled "Good," except for the belly. It is labeled "Real Good."

Pork is a constant at Oliveto. The menu revolves around it. On any given day, prep chefs can be seen breaking down a hog into various cuts -- shoulder, loin, leg -- and then processing them into porchetta, pancetta, scallopine, sausage or salumi.

For an uninitiated guest to the kitchen, it can be startling to see a pig's head simmering in a stock pot or a chef hefting a hand saw on one half of a 200-pound carcass.

Oliveto Chef Paul Canales seasons pork cutlets while Sous Chef Kelsey Bergstrom cuts into a pork leg with a hand saw.

Yet if you want restaurants to be respectful of the meat they serve, extracting every ounce of flavor and using all parts of the animal, then these scenes shouldn't shock you. Many chefs run a far tidier kitchen by relying on industrial meat processors to do their butchery, delivering meat cuts that are shrink-wrapped and ready to cook.

Oliveto's experiments with whole-hog cookery started more than a decade ago, when the restaurant, under owner Bob Klein and former Executive Chef Paul Bertolli, developed a relationship with Paul Willis and Bill Niman, founders of the Niman Ranch meat company.

Willis, a hog farmer from Iowa, met Niman in the mid-1990s, as industrial hog farming was transforming the landscape of the Midwest and North Carolina. Farmers such as Willis were trying to stay in business by marketing the quality and benefits of the pork that was raised without hormones and antibiotics, with the pigs allowed to range freely. That led to a partnership with Niman and the birth of Niman Ranch.

Paul Watson, seen left, heads a network of 500 small farmers who supply pork to Niman Ranch.

Today, Willis supervises a network of 500 farmers who produce pork for more than 1,200 restaurants, ranging from chains such as Chipotle Mexican Grill to high-end restaurants such as Oliveto. His success has inspired many other farmers, including some here in California, to grow their own pigs and market them directly to restaurants.

Every Tuesday at Oliveto, a truck pulls up in the garage of the building, delivering a split carcass pig, usually from Willis. For the last several months it has been my job, along with Oliveto butcher Pablo "Tigre" Mendoza Gavito, to heft and these split carcasses (100 pounds) into the basement meat locker.

Hanging meat from hooks can be dangerous, as former Oliveto Sous Chef Curtis Di Fede demonstrates.

This can be a dangerous job. Pigs are slippery and tricky to hoist. Usually Tigre would lift from the bottom, using a small meat hook to grab hold of the carcass. My job was to grab the hind leg, attach a meat hook to the trotter, and hang the hooked carcass on the meat locker rod while Tigre hefted it from the bottom.

The first time we attempted this together, I inadvertently left my pinkie finger in between the hook and rod. My finger was nearly crushed as the full weight of the carcass came down on the rod. Luckily, I pulled my pinkie out at the last split second.

Once the pigs are in the locker, the chefs assemble a game plan for breaking them down and preparing dishes. That plan changes weekly, depending on the whims of the chefs and what dishes they haven't recently prepared.

"Technically, you want to use the loins and legs first, since those are most subject to spoilage," says Canales, who replaced Bertolli as executive chef in 2004. "The shoulders will last the longest."

Why do the shoulders last longer? As Canales notes, shoulders and other heavily used muscles tend to have high levels of myoglobin, a protein that causes the red color in meat. Birds such as ducks and pigeons have high levels of myoglobin, because they fly such long distances. As a result, ducks and pigeons resist spoilage in a refrigerator longer than chickens do.

After a hog is delivered, Tigre tends to get the assignment of breaking down the hog into its component pieces. He also can be regularly seen trimming up the loin for one of the restaurant's prized dishes, the spit-roasted porchetta.

Oliveto butcher Pablo "Tigre" Mendoza Gavito prepares sausage in the back kitchen.

Porchetta is pork rolled with spices and salt into a log and then set on a rotisserie. As it roasts over hot coals, the fat renders out of the meat and keeps it juicy and savory. Slices of this log are then served with an accompaniment, such as a diavolo sauce made with chili peppers.

By contrast, Oliveto generally takes cuts from the leg and turns them into scallopine or salami. Scraps from the leg are ground in a meat grinder and used in a ragu, a pasta sauce. The shoulders, meanwhile, are generally reserved for sausage.

As you can imagine, all this cutting and trimming results in numerous scraps that some butchers might be tempted to throw away. At Oliveto, all these scraps are further trimmed to separate meat from fat. The meat pieces are cooked down into sugo, a heavily reduced pork stock, similar to a demi-glace. The rest might be used for a ciccioli, an intensely rich concoction that is made by cooking down fatty pieces of pork, compressing them and drying them.

Outside of the pigs it breaks down, Oliveto also receives special orders of pork, particularly pork bellies for pancetta. These bellies arrive every other week from Heritage Foods USA, which originated as the online marketing arm for the Slow Food movement. Now a private company, it sells meat from small farmers who are raising and preserving heritage breeds of pigs, turkeys and other animals.

"I try to support them, because they are trying to do the right thing, by these animal and the small farmers," says Canales. "These guys have no outlet. Either they find a niche market, or they get forced out by Tyson or the big outfits."

The author trims fat off of a pork belly for pancetta.

While apprenticing at Oliveto, I had a privilege to trim and cure pancetta a few times. It is not terribly hard, as Michael Ruhlman demonstrates in this post. The slabs of pork are seasoned with salt, curing salt and peppercorns, and then hung in cold storage for a week or so.

By the time it is dried, thin sliced and then served, it is belly, belly good. (Sorry, I couldn't resist.)

For Oliveto, the true test of its pork obsession comes in February, with the annual Whole Hog dinners. The menu offers nearly every part of the animal, from the brains down to the trotters. Last year's menu(pdf) featured a wild boar scaloppine alla Milanese, a spaghetti with pork cracklings and a spit-roasted pork belly with Sicilian chestnut honey.

A basic summer dish at Oliveto - cured coppa and melon.

Preparations for these dinners are an all-year affair, since some types of meats - such as prosciutto and coppa - take many months to cure and dry.

I missed this year's Whole Hog Dinner, but plan to be there in February. After six months of trimming, slicing, browning, simmering and curing pork, I feel a closer connection to this noble animal, along with an awareness of how much more there is to learn.

Stuart Leavenworth has concluded his apprenticeship at Oliveto, and this is his final post for Bay Area Bites. On Monday, he starts a new job as The Sacramento Bee's editorial page editor. You can contact him at sleavenworth@sacbee.com.

I love to entertain, but hosting a dinner for 8-10 people can get pretty expensive. Between the main course, side dishes, and dessert, the grocery bill can easily run over $100 (and that's a modest calculation when shopping for organic and sustainable food in the Bay Area). But what if you could impress your guests without breaking the bank? Would you believe me if I told you I made a dinner for 9 people that cost under $30?

I didn't plan to spend so little on this dinner party. When I went to the farmers' market and then the butcher I was shopping only to purchase the groceries I needed to make chile verde, a corn and pasilla pepper salad and Mexican rice. I was in the mood for chile verde, a Mexican pork stew made with tomatillos, which is one of my favorite South-of-the-Border dishes. I thought it would be fun to sit in the backyard with friends while eating Mexican food and drinking cerveza. The fact that I spent so little on the meal was a bonus that I'll try to replicate in the future.

If you've never tried chile verde, you are in for a treat when you finally taste it. Chile verde is one of those magical stews that melds together the distinct flavors of a regional area into a unique whole. The tomatillos, onions, and hot peppers roast slowly with the pork, creating a rich and slightly spicy gravy that clings to the succulent and falling apart meat. Served with warm corn tortillas, it's about as good as a stew can get, and inexpensive to boot.

Chile Verde is made using either pork shoulder or butt, which just happens to be one of the cheapest cuts of meat you can purchase. Because it’s a bit fatty and tough, it's a terrible choice for grilling or cooking quickly, but stew it for hours and you have one of the most luscious type of meat available.

Pork shoulder is about $2.99 a pound and you only need 4 lbs for this recipe so your meat tab should be about $12. Add in the tortillas (less than $2 a pack), some rice (also less than $2 for 10 people), corn chips and fresh tomatoes to make homemade salsa (about $5), 2 cans of black beans as a side dish (about $2) and all the veggies needed for the chile verde plus a corn and pepper salad, and you've spent less than $30 for the meal. Obviously the prices of the fruits and vegetables will vary, but because it's summer, most are fairly inexpensive (for instance, I saw five ears of corn for a dollar at the farmers' market the other day).

A delicious yet inexpensive meal with friends: in this economy, that’s a combo I can appreciate.

Chile Verde

Makes: Enough for 9 - 10 people

Ingredients:

4 lbs pork shoulder cut into 1-inch cubes
1 1/2 pounds tomatillos
2 large white or yellow onions
2 Serrano or Jalapeno peppers (depending on how spicy you want the dish. Serranos are hotter.)
1 cup chicken stock or water
2 Tbsp vegetable oil plus more for broiling vegetables
3 tsp cumin powder (or more if you'd like)
2 Tbsp dried oregano (or more if you'd like)
2 Tbsp flour
1/4 cup finely chopped cilantro
Kosher or sea salt and black pepper to taste

Preparation:

1. Cut pork into 1-inch cubes. Sprinkle 1 1/2 tsp cumin, 1 Tbsp oregano, and 1 tsp salt onto the cubed meat and set aside.

2. Sprinkle the flour over the meat and mix everything together so the flour and spices cling to the meat chunks. Set meat in the refrigerator until ready to use.

3. Place your oven on its broiler setting. While oven is heating, peal your onions and slice into 1/4-inch pieces. Dehusk your tomatillos and wash them thoroughly as well. Slice them into 1/4-inch slices as well. You can just slice the smaller tomatillos in half. Slice your Serrano or Jalapeno peppers in half. If you want to reduce some of the heat in the dish, take out the seeds and the inner whitish flesh as these are the real hot parts of the pepper.

4. Drizzle some oil onto a baking sheet and set the onions on top. Flip the onions over so each side has a light coating of oil. Sprinkle with kosher or sea salt. Place pan under the broiler and cook until onions are browned. Be careful not to burn them.

5. Remove the onions from the pan and place them into a bowl. Drizzle a bit more oil onto the pan and lay the tomatillo and pepper slices on top. Season them with some salt and set under the broiler. Cook until they are soft and browned.

6. Place the cooked onions, tomatillos and peppers into a food processor and pulse until the mixture is blended thoroughly but still a bit chunky.

7. Heat 1 Tbsp oil in a large Dutch oven (I prefer one made out of cast iron as it distributes the heat evenly, but this is not necessary). When the oil is hot, evenly distribute a portion of your pork pieces into the pot. Be sure not to add them all at once, or even to crowd the pan, as overcrowding will make the meat steam and we want the pork to sear.

9. Sear the pork pieces on each side until they are slightly crispy and then remove them from the pan. Continue browning in batches until all the pork is seared, adding oil as needed. Note that you are not trying to cook the meat through at this point and that you actually want the inner portion of each cube should to remain uncooked. You are simply searing.

10. Once all the meat is browned, add your chicken stock or water to the pot and then scrape the bottom of the pan with a wooden spoon or spatula to release the delicious caramelized bits. This will really help to flavor your sauce. Add in the meat and tomatillo mixture along with the rest of your cumin and oregano. I like to crush the dried oregano in my palm before adding it, which helps release its flavors. Add some salt and pepper to taste and stir.

11. At this point you can either set the covered pot in the oven for two hours at 350 degrees (but be sure you use an oven-proof pot and cover), or you can simmer the stew on the stove for 2 hours. Either way, the stew needs to now simmer covered.

12. After about 45 minutes of simmering, stir your stew and add more cumin, oregano, salt and pepper to taste. Recover the pot and place back in the oven or simmer further on the stove for at least another hour and 15 minutes.

13. When stew is thoroughly cooked, with the meat literally falling apart when you touch it and the gravy clinging onto the meat, check your seasoning (adding more salt or pepper if needed; the cumin and oregano should be fine at this point) and serve with warm corn tortillas.

We carnivores who live in the Bay Area are a privileged bunch -- on any given day, we can choose to eat Fatted Calf's bacon, Fra Mani's salami, 4505's chicharrones and countless other artisan charcuterie around the city. To that list, I would add Boccalone's pork ragu. It's a lucious ragu that is intensely spiced and just perfect when tossed with pappardelle. Until a couple weeks ago, my main interface with Boccalone was to buy the ragu, or to pick up a sandwich or two for a picnic.

Boccalone is a store that is located in the Ferry Building, and is the brainchild of Incanto chef Chris Cosentino and his business partner Mark Pastore. It has been open less than a year, and attracts great attention in the Ferry Building with its pristine meat slicers and case of hanging meats. In addition to their delectable porcine products, Boccalone also offers sparkling water (like what is offered at Incanto) -- I love filling up my bottle on farmers market days before I battle the crowds.

I've been spending more time at Boccalone these days, however, and it's all the fault of a delicious new product called Nduja. Let's all say it together, class: en-doo-ya. Can't remember how to pronounce it? Ask for the "N-Judah," like I do, and you will get a smile and the lovely Boccalone staff will hand over the $11 salami-shaped package. Nduja is a Calabrian spreadable salami that is spicy and full of flavor. I love bringing it to room temperature and eating it on fresh bread. Once it's at room temperature, it spreads just like butter and is has a great mouthfeel. Nduja roots come from the French andouille sausage and the flavor profile is not unlike the andouille in smokiness and layers of flavor. Friends have been tweeting about mixing a dollop of it in omelettes.

Because this is such a new and unusual product, the folks at Boccalone tend to have some out on sample -- I would suggest that you try it next time you're at the Ferry Building.

Photo Credit: Bunrab.

For those who love both poetry and pork, the recitation and the recipe, Dongpo Rou's silken layers hold a potent blend of both. This famous dish of Hangzhou, a city tucked near where the Qiantang River spills into the Yangtze Delta of eastern China, is named for its creator, the celebrated Chinese poet, Su Shi. Also known as Su Dongpo, he gave his name to the much-loved dish.

Stories are still told of how he forgot his simmering pork while playing chess or of the misunderstanding among his servants when he called for pork with wine. He was thinking a nice cup of spirits; they were thinking boozy stew. I like to think that while the pork belly simmered gently in wine and soy sauce and spices, the poet composed and ink-brushed and recited an afternoon's worth of verse.

Nicole Mones has written a lovely essay about the lingering ties between the poetry and the pork. Since this is Bay Area Bites and not Bay Area Chapbook, I will let other sites cover Chinese poetry. The recipe, however, is most definitely within our domain.

While teaching a writing class several years ago, I had the pleasure of having two students who were in the middle of their own dongpo rou studies. Class discussions about literary metaphors and run-on sentences quickly gave way to debates about judging slabs of pork belly and the precise ratio of wine to soy sauce and which spices should absolutely not be omitted. A friend's father generously walked me through his own recipe a year later. And then this year, after listening to Martin Yan, Olivia Wu, Albert Cheng, Nicole Mones, and Alex Ong rhapsodize about the dish during a panel discussion at the Chinese Culture Center, I realized it was time to embark on my own journey.

Many a Chinese food lover will name dongpo rou among the finest, most difficult, most sublime and most purely enjoyable of classic dishes. I know cooks who have dedicated years to perfecting it in their own kitchens and still bemoan the challenge of coaxing that alchemical melting of the pork's layers of fat and lean, meat and skin. My own explorations have just begun, but like any still-fresh convert, I can't stop talking about my newfound joy. It's like eating pork custard that melts on your tongue. It's like swallowing savory silk. It's what pork will taste like in heaven. (And now you know why I'm not a poet.)

I can't claim native expertise, nor can I say I have settled on my own final, best recipe. But, damn, this stuff is good!

DONGPO ROU

Ingredients
• 2 to 3 pounds of finest quality pork belly
• Half a stick of Chinese golden sugar, or 2 tablespoons brown sugar
• 4 scallions, white part only
• 3 thick slices ginger
• 6 whole star anise
• 1 cinnamon stick
• 1 teaspoon fennel seeds
• 2 to 3 cups chinese wine (I use Shaoxing rice wine aged 8 years)
• 1/2 to 1 cup stock or water
• 3 to 4 tablespoons light soy sauce, plus more if needed

Preparation
1. Check the skin of the pork belly to be sure all hairs are removed. Tweezers are good for this. Cut cubes that are 2-1/2 by 2-1/2 inches and tie with fresh straw or kitchen string. Blanch in boiling water for 2 minutes; drain.

2. In a heavy pot big enough to hold the pork in a single layer, skin-side up, combine the pork packets, sugar, fresh aromatics and dried spices. Pour in enough rice wine to come up two-thirds on the sides of the pork, then add enough stock or water to just cover the skin. Drizzle in soy sauce.

3. Bring to a gentle simmer, reduce heat until the liquid ripples with a bare shiver, cover tightly and then leave the kitchen for a few hours. Stay close, though, to check that the liquid never boils. Taste one or twice to adjust sweet and salty flavors, but otherwise, it's a matter of trusting the magical effects of time and moisture on the pork and its flavorings. I like to float a round of parchment paper on the surface of the liquid to help cover the meat and fat evenly. If you're in a hurry, you can stop the cooking at 1 1/2 hours, but it won't be as good as when you have waited for 4 hours.

4. Remove the pan from the heat and let the pork cool in its liquid. For the best results, I like to refrigerate overnight to remove excess fat that floats to the top. If done well, though, you'll be surprised by how little fat comes off into the sauce.

5. Set up a steamer over your wok, or place a shallow dish in a large pot. Arrange the pork in a bowl or deep platter with its liquid, which after refrigerating has become a deeply colored, sparkling pork aspic. Steam for one hour. If desired, reduce the sauce by boiling it separately.

6. Serve the pork cubes in small, individual bowls with the sauce spooned over and accompanied with lots of white rice.

Ah, the impending new year is all about lists, isn't it? Well, here's yet another one.

Recent tragic events, human and animal alike, at the San Francisco Zoo has me doing several things:

1. I'm snatching up my very plump and extremely domesticated cats and kissing them all over, while demanding to know how their sister could behave so much like...well, a tiger.

2. Swearing I will never go to another zoo to gawk at animals. They may be alive and safe from hunters' rifles, but they are still miserable unless they happen to be lucky enough to secure roams in the spacious San Diego Wild Animal Park.

3. Thinking about primal urges for meat.

While I do live a fairly vegetarian, multi-grainal, or pescatarian lifestyle, it's more from ease and quickness of prep and less of actual desire. I do love my fish and vegs, but I also love, crave, and need on a deep, dark, and primal level, meat.

When hit with a specific meat need, it's usually for how a certain restaurant prepares it. Like, if I'm feeling porkish, it doesn't follow that I'll be satisfied with any old piece of pig.

My Top Meat Places in San Francisco

Pork: Late-night or middle of the day, nothing beats a burrito stuffed with thick, shaggy pieces of carnitas at El Farolito. Also, because I haven't been able to stop thinking about it since Jen reminded me in her post, the shelling beans with Sofrito at SPQR and sweet and smoky Suppenkuche's cured pork chop.

Beef: I haven't yet found my designated "favorite steak" place in San Francisco, but the Slanted Door's Shaking Beef still makes me very happy; I'm really sorry to see that it hasn't yet made it onto the menu at Out the Door in the San Francisco Center. When it comes to the ground stuff, Burgermeister is the place I go back to again and again. That said, Zuni Cafe's lunch-time burger is pretty spectacular, even if the ridiculously greasy focaccia bun has me wiping my hands down every three seconds.

Chicken: I'm sorry to be predictable, but I'm still not bored nor have I ever failed to reach complete nirvana with Zuni's roast chicken. However, Ziryab Grill's sumac chicken with velvety oyster mushrooms and Ton Kiang's deceptively plain-looking salt-baked chicken run it a very close, very delicious second.

Duck: I'm very choosy about duck and I don't order it every time I see it at the menu, but Paul K's Syrian Spiced Duck with pomegranate molasses and Ton Kiang's peking duck get my picky vote.

Lamb: This is my favorite meat, but I have yet to find a place that satisfies my need for tender, rare. Until I find it, I have to be satisfied with my own lamb chops: salt and pepper, broiled for 3-4 minutes on each side. Though I haven't yet been, I have suspicions that Kokkari might scratch this particular itch, however I'm open to suggestions...

Always looking for a little extra help with ringing in the New Year correctly, if quietly, I have turned to eating luck-giving food. I would consider 2007 a very good year, since I didn't die as I had supposed I would, on or before my last birthday. I'm not going to attribute my good fortune directly to the eating of Hoppin' John, but I won't entirely discount it either.

So I am continuing my consumption of pork in the New Year, given the fact that pigs are symbolic of good fortune and prosperity. Since most of the ones I've seen end their short lives being consumed by humans, I don't feel that their luck is personal, but rather that it radiates from within their own pot bellies, only to find its way into other pot bellies-- ours. There are, of course, notable exceptions, like Babe, Wilbur, and Arnold Ziffel. If our pig friends are aware of these porcine super-stars, I do not know. I can only imagine that it might lead to unrealistic expectations of salvation and celebrity lifestyle on the part of the pig, but who am I to judge? I still believe I am going to win the lottery and meet a special someone who isn't crazy.

The scientific reasoning behind pork's luckiness stems from the fact that, unlike fish that might swim away with your fortune, or fowl who could very well likely fly away with it (and are thus to be avoided), pigs tend to root out treasure, aiding in your well-deserved prosperity. Not being one to question science, I am upping my pork consumption next week. It seems to be working for my neighbor across the hallway. She looks as though she has spent a lifetime eating nothing but pork several times a day. Judging by the headboard-banging and fascinating vocalizations emanating from the other side of my bedroom wall at this very moment, she seems to be a very lucky woman indeed.

Pork Chops with Apples and Thyme

This is a recipe taken (but is not exactly duplicated) from a cookbook I worked on several years ago called New England by Molly Stevens, which was part of a series called New American Cooking by the folks at Williams-Sonoma. I was the food styling assistant on this book and was initially disappointed that we didn't photograph this recipe. Given the rather monochromatic nature of this dish, I now understand the wisdom of that decision. What this dish lacks in color, it definitely makes up for in flavor. It's seriously good.

Ingredients

4 or 5 fresh sprigs of thyme
2 tablespoons of unsalted butter
2 large tart apples, like Granny Smith, peeled, cored, and sliced
4 center-cut pork loin chops I chose the bone-in variety and, oh, 1 to 2 inches thick
1/2 cup all-purpose flour
salt and ground (fresh) pepper to taste
2 tablespoons of olive oil
3/4 cup apple cider
2 tablespoons white wine vinegar
1 clove of garlic, minced
1/4 cup of heavy cream

Preparation:

1. In a frying pan large enough to hold all four chops, melt butter over medium-high heat. Add apples and sauté, shaking often (the pan, though if you've got the DT's this dish might help. Just pour yourself an extra glass of cider.). When apples have some lovely browning to them, remove them from the pan and transfer to an awaiting bowl.

2. Pat the pork chops dry with paper towels. Season liberally with salt and pepper. Put the flour on a shallow plate and place chops in the flour. Coat on both sides of the pork, shaking off any excess flour.

3. Return your pan to medium-high heat and add the oil. When the oil is very hot but not smoking, add the pork chops and brown evenly on both sides, about 1 to 2 minutes per sides, but no more than that, please. Add cider and vinegar, then turn heat to low. Add garlic and thyme. Cover tightly to cook. turning them once half way through the process. Cook until done, of course, which will take you anywhere from 14 to 18 minutes, depending upon the thickness of your chops. A slight rosy pinkness in the center is idea. In the center of the pork chop, that is.

4. Transfer the chops to a plate and keep warm. I suppose that might relate to both you and your chops. Remove thyme from the pan. Raise the heat to high, scraping the bottom of the pan to dissolve any caramelized bits, and add the cream. Boil until the liquid in the pan is reduced by half. Stir in the apples. Taste and adjust your seasonings.

5. Spoon apples and sauce over the pork chops and serve immediately.

Serves 4