Pečené Vepřové Koleno

The Czechs, a generally reserved people, have a passion—for simple, hearty food. We can talk about dumplings, mashed potatoes, and other classic dishes of Czech cuisine, which are essentially peasant food, their roots in the late Middle Ages or in the New Age, with its meager food basket of the common people. But the most important thing to remember when planning a Czech menu is the Czechs’ centuries-old relationship with pork. In fact, December once used to be called ‘Pork Month’ in the Czech lands.

‘Toward the end of the year, we just gorge ourselves. We passionately enjoy delicacies without any thought of salvation. It is no coincidence that our ancestors called December—the tenth month of the Roman calendar—Prasinec (from prase or pig) because, according to pagan custom, they ate mostly pork. It was only under pressure, and of course after Christianization, that a new name had to be found. Prosinec (from prosit or to ask) sounded much more pious. The difference seems to be just an ‘o’ instead of an ‘a’, but what miracles it works! Customs, however, resisted such a simple method for a very long time. Even in the third millennium after the birth of our Lord, we still organize large pig fights, inviting friends and acquaintances to feast and gorge ourselves.’ This description comes to us from Jiří Gruša’s 1998 book Česko –návod k použití (The Czech Republic – Instruction Manual).

Pečené vepřové koleno, where each portion weighs at least 500 grams, is the product of this burning passion. Pork knuckle is eaten all through the year, washed down with endless mugs of beer and accompanied by potato dumplings and their numerous sauces. How the Czechs manage to remain a generally slender people is a mystery!

Tender souls don’t like knuckle—it’s got bones, thick skin, and everything on display. It’s a revealing dish. It doesn’t allow you to forget that you're eating meat and that that meat was running around not too long ago. Culinary historians agree that the recipe for roasted pork knuckle is a legacy from ancient times, when the ancestors of modern Europeans celebrated their good fortune after hunting wild boar by roasting large pieces of meat over an open fire. Why the knuckle? From a consumer’s point of view, the knuckle is the least valuable part of the pig’s carcass. It is possible that hunters used to eat the inexpensive leg of the boar before taking the rest of the kill to market. The old Czechs were thrifty and never wasted any of the pig. If the meat was not sold, it was roasted, and if it was not roasted, it was made into sausages. Very small and strange pieces were thrown into a soup with a typically Czech name, prdelačka (from the word prdel, meaning ‘arse’), into which all the meat that was not suitable for sausage or a separate dish was thrown. There was no shortage of pork. The Czechs bred many domestic pigs, but there were also plenty of wild pigs.

From the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries in Bohemia, boar hunting was allowed on almost all estates, and the boar was no longer considered an elite game reserved for noble hunters. Part of the blame for this decline lay with its domesticated sibling, the pig. But that’s not the only reason. Historian Michel Pastoureau, in his book Le Cochon: Histoire d’un cousin mal aimé, explains the reasons for this change in attitude toward the boar, once considered the game of kings: ‘At the end of the Middle Ages, the negative image of the boar was consolidated by attributing to it vices that had previously been associated only with the domestic pig: uncleanliness, gluttony, intemperance, lasciviousness, laziness. In the early Middle Ages, these animals were not conflated either in the minds of scholars or in the perceptions of the people; however, from the fourteenth century onward, this was done with some regularity, even quite often. Comments after the death of King Philip the Fair of France in late 1314 confirm this. He died as a result of a hunting accident in the forest of Compiègne after colliding with a wild boar.

Two or three centuries earlier, such a death would have been considered heroic, even royal. But at the beginning of the fourteenth century, things were different … An ordinary, stray pig caused the death of a crowned royal, and that death was considered extremely shameful throughout the Christian world. Chronicles, libelous writings, and pamphlets repeatedly emphasized the idea that the French monarchy had once again fallen victim to a pig, and that the disgraced king had thus paid for all his wickedness and treachery.’

And Philip the Fair had plenty of vices. Suffice it to say that the rumor linked the king’s sudden death to the curse of the Templars. At one point, Philip had worked to crush the powerful spiritual order of the Knights Templar, accusing them of many fictitious crimes, and sentencing their grand master, Jacques de Molay, to be burned at the stake. In the square in Paris, the Templar master, already engulfed in flames, cursed the king. And the king died a few months later, on this hunt we just talked about, by the fangs of a boar. It was a story that shocked many people at the time, and the reputation of the boar was collateral damage.

The wild boar was taken down from the pedestal of the nobility and became available to peasant hunters and the bourgeoisie. The favorite hunting delicacy—roasted pork knuckle —was now also available from domestic pigs.

From Czechia, the recipe for roasted pork knuckle spread to neighboring countries, and it is beloved by the people of the northern Baltic. However, it is also very common in the northern parts of Germany, which is not surprising. Bohemia was part of the German Empire in the Middle Ages, and the Baltic States were in the orbit of its political influence.

Pork knuckle is especially popular in winter: there’s no better meal after a long walk in the cold. Pečené vepřové koleno is a dish for hunters tired after a long trek, for farmers resting in an icy December after months of work in the fields, for skiers who spent the first half of the day on the slopes, for tourists who turned blue with the cold while sightseeing.

The knuckle is mostly bone, rough, thick skin, and muscle tissue. It should be roasted until it is completely soft. The cooking process is long but simple: a large piece of meat is washed and scrubbed, garlic is inserted into the cuts on the skin, with spices and salt being sprinkled at the end. ‘The recipe is actually very easy, and nothing can go wrong when making it. Time is the most crucial component here!’ says food blogger Petra Kupská.

Dark beer and honey are then poured over the prepared meat and sliced sour apples are added to the marinade. This is left to marinate in a cold place for a day or two, after which it is put in the oven. Dark beer is added regularly during the hours-long roasting process. So, if a tourist comes to a restaurant on a Saturday evening and asks for ‘Plzeňské pivo a vepřové koleno,’ they will be served soft meat that melts in the mouth, better than chocolate, with a crispy crust.

‘The crackling on the top of this pork is beautifully roasted, while the meat underneath braises gently in the juices,’ raves famous British restaurateur Gordon Ramsay about this method of cooking pork, and who knows recipes better than him?