The nipples were disconcerting but the hairs did us in, when we unsealed the pork belly we were about to prepare.

We were cooking for a dinner party, so we bought about eight pounds of pork belly from a farmer in Litchfield. We'd met him at a local butcher and processing plant. He looked too hip to have been a life-long farmer. Indeed, he told us he'd spent 30 years on Wall Street before returning to his family's farm. Their grass-fed beef scored high in a New York Times taste test.

The pig was a Tamworth-Gloucestershire mix, a "mutt" of heritage stock. The farmer told us the pig lived a happy life, grazing outside. During the last month of its life, it ate acorns and hickory nuts.

Everything sounded great. As we examined the belly through the vacuum pack, we were pleased with the meat-to-fat ratio. Two days later, we opened up the package, ready to cook. But I wasn't prepared for all those white bristles sticking out of the skin, and the fair number of dark bristle roots under the skin. Two nipples also reproached us; this meat was once a live animal.

Hairs were not on the menu so we scraped the skin with a sharp knife. We scraped and scraped. We took turns. The hairs remained. We turned to the Internet and read that hairs can be singed off over a gas burner, but it would smell terrible. Meanwhile, the clock was ticking. We had to get that pork in the oven.

Scalding was also recommended. We tried it. Now, the white hairs were more visible. And there were a lot of them. We continued to scrape. We made little progress, and there was no way to get the stubble from under the skin.

The next day I called the butcher to ask about the hairs. She said I'd need a really sharp knife or a razor to remove them.

I called the farmer. He didn't have many answers. Breeding pigs is a new venture for him. "These were the first pigs we've slaughtered," he said. On most cuts, the skin is removed. That's what we ended up doing, though the crunchy skin is a treat of slow-roasted pork belly.

Like that farmer, we were neophytes to local pigs. The lesson? Ask your farmer how long he's been raising pigs and if he or the butcher will remove the hairs, but be prepared for hair. They can be singed with a blowtorch or over an outdoor grill, so I hear. I'd love to hear about your adventures with pork belly.

Local food is real food in all its animal glory. The farmer told me the pork shoulder he cooked from that same pig was "absolutely delicious." So was our pork belly.