A menacing sight of a pig's head hangs precariously by its ear, alongside hunks of ribs and loin draped on a wooden stand. I am digesting this macabre sight amid the hubbub of an al fresco kitchen when chef Max Stiegl hands me a freshly baked slice of sourdough bread dipped in a bowl of burgundy-hued blood from a pig slaughtered earlier in the day.

"Try it," he offers with a mischievous grin. I squirm before biting into the blood-drenched bread with a salty and slightly metallic zing.

I am part of a party of about 20 people who have braved the winter cold in January to huddle in the backyard of nose-to-tail restaurant-inn Gut Purbach in Burgenland in eastern Austria. High-spirited banter is swiftly dialled down whenever Stiegl heaves vats of food over the fire.

Cooked a la minute are dishes like eggs scrambled with onions and earthy globs of pig's brain, liver slices doused in a tangy sauce of red wine, vinegar, and lentils and chunks of kidney doused in vinegar and garlic. Appetisers from the 25-course menu include red wine-braised snout and heart sashimi. And we are just getting started.

Welcome to sautanz (sow's dance in German), an Austrian winter tradition in which families gather to butcher and cook all parts of the pig before throwing a jolly feast with convivial folk music.

In between sips of Austrian wines like Gruner Veltliner, we pig out (pun intended) on flame-licked grilled pork chops, roast pork belly encrusted with a glorious crackling, and bratwurst, sculpted from minced pork that has been liberally seasoned with smoky paprika, accompanied by fiery sambal olek.

Since 2007, Stiegl has offered the sautanz experience about 12 times yearly to revive interest in the diminishing food tradition. Between courses, I learn about his whole-animal approach to cooking and mingled with other guests, who shared their families' take on sautanz.