When I was in my twenties, I had a best friend, Will, who had been a moonshiner back in the day. If asked how old he was, Will would say, "I'm eight years older than the twentieth century." During WWII and rationing he was still distilling, as well as bootlegging black market pork. In the prohibition days he and his cohorts had to do something with the spent whiskey mash, so they fed it to pigs. After prohibition he kept servicing his customers, as his product was a step above what was available commercially. When the war started and rationing came, his pork became the money crop. This is when he started feeding live whiskey mash to the hogs. This was his secret ingredient and it kept him ahead of competitors.
Here's how I learned about this: I was raising two hogs that were just about to butchering size when they both got erysipelas and died. While I was raising these two, I was asked to put down as very sick weener pig of one of my neighbors. The pig had been poorly castrated and the wound from this was badly infected. I and my old lady elected to try to nurse it back to health, but by the time that was done, this pig had also gotten pneumonia and mange from a burrowing mite (which infected me, the old lady, as well as our many cats, goats, and dogs -- we and all the animals had to do a horrible industrial pesticide dip in a tub). After a few months, this pig was up to only about 40 pounds with ribs and backbone sticking out. I took the puny thing to Will and asked him if he wanted him.
We had named this pig, "Blivit," which is defined as, "ten pounds of shit in a five pound bag." Will said he'd take him and had me go to town and get some sacks of cracked corn. He sprouted some wheat and and added it to the corn which he had scalded to start a batch of live whiskey mash. Blivit's routine became eat until he was drunk and sleep. Eight weeks later he was a handsome 200+ pound butcher hog. This was absolutely the best pork I ever ate (thanks, and sorry, Blivit).
Edited by Alder Logs, 02 January 2018 - 01:37 PM.