The president of the National Pork Producers Council -- the person who represents the people who represent the nation's pigs -- appeared recently before Congress to talk about sales in the swine flu era.

He wasn't happy. "Things look bleak going forward," Don Butler told America's lawmakers.

Around the same time, the following events transpired:

-- The usually beef-and-beany Taco Bell erected signs at the mouth of its drive-thru lanes, exhorting motorists around the republic: "TOP IT OFF WITH BACON."

-- Uncle Jack's, one of New York City's signature steak houses, put out its sidewalk chalkboard of dinner specials. Getting top billing at the beef emporium, for $24.95, was not sirloin, not rib-eye, not filet mignon, but slow-roasted Berkshire pork shank.

-- The brewmaster of Brooklyn Brewery, using an intricate process, crafted 25 experimental cases of -- wait for it -- bacon ale.

In this season of approaching winter holidays and abrupt spikes in ham consumption, this much is worth noting: In the land of the cowboy, the country where beef is held up as the meat that defines the American character, the pig in all its succulent, edible incarnations seems to be everywhere.

"As an interest in food, its origins and its preparation spreads around America, it makes sense that the American palate is widening past just burgers and steaks," said Sasha Wizansky, the co-editor of Meatpaper, a magazine about meat culture in America.

"Practically every scrap of a pig can be transformed into something tasty," she said, "and you can find a treasure trove of pork-centric dishes and cured products from around the world." (Meatpaper's first themed issue, earlier this year, focused on the hog.)

It's not as if the pig suddenly arrived on the American scene. From the earliest settlements in Virginia, it's one of the oldest domesticated creatures to make its way down American gullets. But somewhere along the line, pork was cast as an also-ran, below burgers and chicken in the culinary taxonomy.

Sure, ham and ribs and Southern barbecue were continuous staples for the American stomach. But for years, many Americans rarely ventured beyond the Shake 'N Bake pork chop and its workaday suburban brethren. Even pork's longtime slogan, "The Other White Meat," suggested a status akin to how Avis approaches Hertz.

Is that changing? Ask Michael LaScola, chef and owner of American Seasons, a Nantucket, Mass., restaurant where you'll find every part of the pig harvested into unusual recipes. Crispy pig ears, served up like French fries with a side of smoky ketchup? Check. Pig's head bacon served with eggs sunny side up? Check. Pork-belly fritters with foie gras? Check. And check your cholesterol while you're at it.

"Pork is definitely my favorite thing to play with and to cook with," said LaScola, who recently cohosted an event called, yes, Hogtoberfest.

"You can go sweet, and you can go savory. And either way, it works," he said. "It has a lot of flavor, but it's not gamey like lamb would be. Or it doesn't have that super blood iron kind of thing like some beef."

And, as meats go, most cuts of pork remain quite affordable -- no small matter when you're trying to feed a family during a recession that's pushing into its second year.

Then, of course, there's bacon.

From Wendy's Baconator sandwich to bacon-scented air fresheners and even bacon-flavored mints, the cured and smoked Porkbellicus Americanus has become something of a fetish object for carnivores and lipid lovers. It has reached the point where the words "chocolate-covered bacon" have become, for many, something appetizing.

You can buy "Baconnaise," a condiment that has earned the good-natured scorn of Jon Stewart, and its companion product, Bacon Salt, which has been shipped to bacon-craving American troops serving in pork-free regions. You can even join the "Bacon of the Month Club," perhaps the only subscription-based pork products service in the land. Or perhaps not.

"There are instances in which innovative bacon dishes work ... and then there are times when you don't really want bacon foam on your dessert or bacon fat in your latte," Wizansky said. "In certain food circles, bacon saturation has become so extreme that chefs have completely abandoned it."

Bacon seems to turn otherwise rational Americans into drooling, carnivorous maniacs. Consider food writer Joanna Pruess, rhapsodizing in the introduction of her book, "Seduced by Bacon": "Bacon is far more than a food. It is a happy state of mind. It excites people to the point where some aficionados liken it to illicit pleasures. Can it be a religion?"

Odds are good that Pruess is neither Jewish nor Muslim.

Omaha Steaks, the mail-order company that does a brisk business in premium beef, has offered pork for many decades -- including pork chops wrapped in, well, bacon -- and is introducing thick-cut microwave bacon even as you read these words. Its senior vice president, Todd Simon, sees several reasons why pig products are capturing the imagination.

Pork, he proposes, not only gives the fast-increasing legions of American grillers "something new to throw into the flames" but also allows folks to dip their toes into the adventure of more unusual ethnic recipes while still holding onto the familiar and the traditional.

What's more, Simon says, the culture of the whole pig as centerpiece to a very special meal holds a place in American culture that other whole animals don't. "You never hear about a steer roast," Simon quipped.

All of this is not to say that Butler and the National Pork Producers Council don't have legitimate worries. As they point out, pork producers have lost an average of $23 on each hog marketed during the past two years.

But in a land where Bacon Salt and Baconnaise are actually sustainable consumer products, where the landscape has more than 400 locations of a store called HoneyBaked Ham, surely the long-term prognosis for pork prosperity can't be entirely bleak.

LaScola certainly doesn't think so. And if you have any doubt, touch base with him next year. Whatever part of the pig he's serving then, consider washing it down with a new drink he's developing.

He calls it the BLT Bloody Mary.

Pork tenderloin stroganoff

Gordon Ramsay suggests serving buttered pasta or steamed rice to accompany this simple stroganoff made with pork tenderloin from his new book, "Cooking for Friends."

Start to finish: 25 minutes

Servings: Four

1 pound pork tenderloin

Salt and ground black pepper, to taste

1 teaspoon sweet smoked paprika, plus an extra pinch

4 tablespoons olive oil, divided

1 yellow onion, finely sliced

2 cloves garlic, finely sliced

7 ounces cremini mushrooms, sliced (approximately 3 cups)

Splash of brandy

1/2 cup sour cream or heavy cream

Squeeze of lemon juice

Handful of flesh flat-leaf parsley, leaves chopped

Trim off any fat or sinew from the pork tenderloin, then thinly slice it. Season with salt, pepper and 1 teaspoon of paprika.

In a large skillet over medium, heat half of the olive oil until hot. Add the onion, and saute until soft and translucent, six to eight minutes.

Add the garlic and mushrooms, and increase the heat slightly. Fry until the mushrooms are tender, three to four minutes. Tip the contents of the pan onto a plate, and set aside.

Add the remaining oil to the pan, and fry the pork over high until golden brown, 1-1/2 to two minutes. Return the onions, garlic and mushrooms to the pan. Add a splash of brandy and let it boil, or flambe, until almost all reduced.

Stir in the cream, and bring to a gentle simmer. Adjust the seasonings, then add a squeeze of lemon juice. Throw in the chopped parsley, and remove the pan from the heat. Serve immediately, sprinkled with a pinch of paprika.

(Recipe from Gordon Ramsay's "Cooking for Friends," William Morrow, 2009)

Pork loin chops with mushroom chutney

Matt Lee and Ted Lee like to smother their pan-fried pork loin chops in a quick mushroom chutney sweetened with prunes. The recipe, which comes from their new cookbook "The Lee Bros. Simple Fresh Southern," comes together in just 25 minutes.

Start to finish: 25 minutes

Servings: Four

2 teaspoons kosher salt, divided

1 teaspoon ground black pepper

1 teaspoon sifted all-purpose flour

4 bone-in pork loin chops (each 1-1/4 inches thick), approximately 2-1/2 pounds total

1 tablespoon canola, peanut or vegetable oil

3 tablespoons unsalted butter

1 tablespoon grated peeled fresh ginger

1 medium yellow onion, chopped (approximately 3/4 cup)

6 ounces pitted prunes, quartered (approximately 1-1/4 cups)

6 ounces button mushrooms, quartered (approximately 3 cups)

6 ounces shiitake or cremini mushrooms, woody stems trimmed, cut into eighths (approximately 2 cups)

2 tablespoons dark brown sugar

1/2 cup water

1/2 cup red wine vinegar

Heat the oven to 425 degrees.

In a small bowl, mix 1 teaspoon of the salt, the black pepper and flour together. Sprinkle half of the mixture over one side of each pork chop.

In a 12-inch cast-iron skillet or oven-safe saute pan, heat the oil over high until the first wisp of smoke rises. Tilt the skillet gently in a circular motion so the oil coats the bottom thinly and evenly.

Put the chops, seasoned side down, in the hot skillet (take care not to crowd them in the pan; sear them in batches of two, if necessary) and sprinkle the remaining half of the seasoning mixture on the sides facing up.

Sear the pork chops until they are a rich golden brown, turning them when the first side is done, approximately three minutes per side.

Turn the chops so the first side faces down again, and transfer the skillet to the oven.

Bake for two minutes for rare, four minutes for medium-rare and six minutes for well-done. Remove the skillet from the oven, transfer the chops to a large plate or platter, then loosely cover them with foil.

Return the skillet to the stove over medium. Add the butter, ginger, onion, prunes, button and shiitake mushrooms, and the remaining 1 teaspoon salt. Stir with a wooden spoon, scraping any caramelized pork bits off the bottom, and saute until the onion softens slightly and the surface of the mushrooms has begun to sweat a bit, approximately three minutes.

Add the brown sugar, water and vinegar, then continue to cook over low until the vegetables have achieved an even degree of softness and the liquid in the pan is syrupy, approximately six minutes.

Divide the pork chops among four warm dinner plates, and spoon the mushroom chutney liberally over and around the chops.

(Recipe from Matt Lee and Ted Lee's "The Lee Bros. Simple Fresh Southern," Clarkson Potter, 2009)

Kimchi pancakes

Cecilia Hae-Jin Lee, author of "Quick & Easy Korean Cooking," suggests using cabbage kimchi for these pork-studded pancakes. The pancakes can be made smaller than directed, but she suggests making them larger to save time, then cutting them into wedges.

Start to finish: 20 minutes

Servings: Four to six, as an appetizer

1 cup all-purpose flour

1/2 cup rice flour

1-1/2 cups cold water, plus more as needed

1 large egg

1 cup baechu kimchi, coarsely chopped

2 scallions, cut into 1-inch pieces

3 ounces uncooked pork, chopped

1/2 teaspoon salt

Vegetable oil, for frying

In a large bowl, combine the flour, rice flour, water and egg. Mix lightly. The mixture should be the consistency of pancake batter but doesn't have to be smooth. Add a little more water if necessary, but remember that the kimchi will add liquid, as well.

Stir in the kimchi, scallions, pork and salt.

In a large skillet over medium-high, heat approximately 1 tablespoon of oil. Ladle batter into the skillet, and spread it out to an 8-inch circle. Cook until the edges turn brown and crispy, three to four minutes.

Flip the pancake, add a little bit more oil around it, then cook for another three minutes or so, until cooked through. Repeat with the remaining batter, adding oil as needed. Serve the pancakes hot out of the skillet. Cut into wedges or serve whole.

(Recipe from Cecilia Hae-Jin Lee's "Quick & Easy Korean Cooking," Chronicle Books, 2009)

Spaghetti carbonara

When the basic ingredients are bacon, pasta, eggs and Parmesan cheese, it's hard to go wrong. This uncomplicated recipe for spaghetti carbonara from Lucinda Scala Quinn's "Mad Hungry: Feeding Men and Boys," comes together in minutes.

Start to finish: 20 minutes

Servings: Four to six

1 pound spaghetti

1/2 pound bacon, sliced crosswise into 1/2-inch pieces

3 large eggs

1 cup grated Parmesan cheese, plus extra for serving (optional)

Ground black pepper, to taste

Bring a large pot of salted water to a boil, and cook the spaghetti according to package directions.

Meanwhile, in a large skillet over medium-low, cook the bacon until just crispy, eight to 10 minutes. Skim off some of the fat.

Drain the pasta, add to the bacon in the pan, and toss to combine.

In a small bowl, whisk together the eggs, cheese and pepper in a small bowl. Pour into the pasta, and combine thoroughly. Serve immediately with extra grated cheese, if desired.

(Recipe from Lucinda Scala Quinn's "Mad Hungry: Feeding Men and Boys," Artisan, 2009)

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