The smokehouse is a vanishing landmark across the Northern Neck. Driving along the country roads, the smokehouse once was a staple in every farmyard.
Some were constructed of brick, but overwhelmingly they were made of rough-cut pine lumber, often with wood shingle roofs. The most common smokehouse was a sturdy building, usually about 8 feet by 10 feet with a shallow pitched A roof and a brick foundation.
As the name indicates, the smokehouse was the means for curing meat, principally pork, before the onset of winter, to preserve it for use during the ensuing months. After butchering hogs in the fall, the pieces were salted down and hung in the smokehouse to cure, a process that could take as long as several months.
During that period, families were concerned that the meat would not rot or spoil, and that vermin could not get to it. To that end, it was hung from the overhead rafters or joists, thereby keeping greedy and hungry mice and rats from having access to it. Between the salt and the smoke coming from wood fires on the floor, the meat could take its time to age.
When the process had run its course, the meat, principally hams and shoulders, would be soaked in water several times over several days to get the dominating salt flavor out of it prior to roasting. Many folks considered the longer the time the curing process took, the better, but if left too long, the meat became like jerky as far as chewing was concerned.
An unfortunate result of curing salted meat in a wooden structure was the “curing” of the wooden wall of the building as well, resulting in a fuzzy texture that sometimes became severe to the extent of resembling an animal’s furry coat. The salt might have caused that damage to the wooden frame, but beneficially, it virtually eliminated the threat of termite infestation in the building. Termites do not like a diet rich in pure salt. People suffering from high blood pressure should follow the termites’ example and shun the use of salt in their own diets.
These thoughts have been inspired by the deteriorating condition of our smokehouse, which stands about 15 feet off the back door of the house. The frame and siding remain solid, but the wood shingle roof is in a state of rapid decline. To ameliorate the situation, we are replacing the bad timbers, and re-shingling the roof.
The latter will be the third wooden roof we will have installed since the 1970s. The first, almost 60 years ago, was composed of the traditional cedar shingles, but the last one and the new one will be of split cedar shakes. The building was built early in the last century and the door, which we replaced 15 years ago, retains the original large cast iron hinges, as well as the keeper and clasp for the lock. Historically, locks were important on smokehouses, lest human predators descend to swipe the curing meat.
Our family never has used the smokehouse for its initial purpose, but the fuzzy walls indicate that our predecessors did. A local older gentleman, who was one of 10 children, once told me that his father would raise and cure sufficient pork to be able to give each child a whole hog for Christmas.
As the curing days have passed into history on most farms, many smokehouses have been adapted to become garden houses, storage sheds or in some cases children’s playhouses, but many have been demolished or burned.
For centuries, the smokehouses were essential features of Northern Neck farms, but today only a small fraction of their original number remains. In our case, the smokehouse has become a workshop, a building that seems to be of consuming interest to Henry, the Gander. Perhaps he is viewing it as a safe haven to get away from Gladys.
