Recent Foodsville publications by Tumbleweed

The Spice of Life

tb.epicurse@verizon.net — Wed, 20 Feb 2008 14:01:33

    The flu season is still with us and I find that I am returning to natural remedies as often as heading to the local drug store. I am no doctor or pharmacologist but anyone who studies or works with herbs, even minimally, begins to know their nature and can experiment with some of these herbs and spices with pretty much no severe repercussions. I would much rather ingest these natural products and see their effectiveness over a synthetic laboratory produced chemical with adverse reactions as severe as the reason for taking in the first place.
   If a piece on herbs and their natural remedies have been posted here before, then I apologize but want to share a few of my favorite herbal remedies that have proven effective to me, In my home, it is with a look of sheer horror when a son or husband walks through the kitchen and asks me what I’m making and I reply a “gooligul”. What is gooligul? I don’t even know if this is a real word or the correct spelling for. My mother-in-law is Italian and grew up with “gooligul” given to her by her mother who spoke broken English, at best. She was given this tonic that she then gave to her kids that still makes my husband cringe when he even hears the name. I believe what it was that she was giving the kids was a castor oil and nothing more. So, when I began creating my own home remedies, I borrowed the name a) because I think it sounds cool as a home remedy and b) for the effect it has on my husband…not to be mean but, c’mon, you don’t get to see them squirm very often. Now, I don’t do castor oil type of treatments. My gooligul is meant for colds and upper respiratory prevention and curative powers.
     To begin with and before I get into the herbs, I preface this by saying that as with anything, you must show respect to whatever ingredient you are using. People have allergies and tolerances that must be respected and anything misused can be harmful. For instance, licorice although helpful as an anti-inflammatory herb, & aid with colds or digestive remedies, has a reputation that can sometimes be “dangerous” if not used correctly. This is one herb that must be taken with caution and not in excess. That is enough for me and so I pretty much steer clear of it unless it’s a Twizzler (which is probably flavored with anise and not true licorice, as with most licorice candy these days). With that said, a brief account of a few herbs that you probably have, or at least have easy access to, that could help you during your time of need.   And, these are just a few and, obviously, not a comprehensive list with a very brief description of what they can be useful for.
Basil – well-rounded antiviral herb useful for nausea, flatulence, fevers, headaches…an eyewash.
Bay Laurel –Good for making a poultice that is said to help with dandruff (?) or for helping reduce the pain associated with stings and helpful with coughs, as well.
Cardamom-Good for indigestion and gas alleviation as well as congestion and bad breath.
Cayenne – One of my favorites but you must use wisely. If you’re not used to eating hot spices than you must watch signs so that you don’t hurt your stomach. As one of the heating herbs it stimulates the circulatory system and works as a blood thinner and is why hot climate diets utilize this and similarly hot products as it helps rid the body of heat and makes you sweat. Helps respiratory tract infections, eases constipation and deals with rheumatoid associated pain. Hot peppers are also high in vitamin C. Cayenne is helpful as part of a” gooligul” for a sore throat or as a prevention because what germ can survive that environment? Capsaicins, the active ingredient in hot peppers, are used for poultices and natural heating creams for sore muscles. After my herbal listing, I will present some “recipes” utilizing cayenne as well as some of my other favs at the end of this piece.
Celery Seed-Works on the circulatory system and as a diuretic and is good for blood sugar balance,
Cinnamon-Gaining recognition for its’ indigestion and circulation properties that may help with colds and allergies.
Cloves – An antiseptic, antispasmotic, infection fighter. In the old days used for toothaches.
Fennel – Good for indigestion and respiratory ailments such as stomach aches and congestion.
Feverfew – Gaining recognition for it’s help for headaches particularly migraines (am currently trying) and lost its’ standing due to its’ original purpose which was reducing fevers.
Garlic – Everyone knows the power of garlic as it also aids in digestion, circulation, cardiovascular, works as a natural antibiotic, an immune fighter, a mucus reducer and some symptoms associated with the cold and flu. Garlic is also supposed to help fight fleas on your dog.
Ginger – Stimulates the circulation, is antibacterial, and is helpful to remove phlegm, soothes the throat and coughs, aids in digestion (some say it’s helpful for morning sickness) and is helpful as part of a hot compress.
Lavender-It has a soothing, calming effect and is good in teas, balms and baths.
Mint- Almost any member of this antibacterial family is useful for aiding in digestion and gas, taming spasms and externally relaxes tightened muscles. For example, peppermint candies are often offered after dinner for these reasons.
Oregano – useful for gas, flatulence, respiratory ailments like coughing, is an antiseptic and can be helpful for women problems.
Rosemary – Another fav of mine with antifungal, antibacterial astringent properties that aid the circulation and helps the digestion used as a tonic (gooligul) in a bath or tea.
Thyme – Circulation stimulator and immune system enhancer, an antiseptic that helps with gas and flu like symptoms.

As mentioned, these are but a few of the many herbs and spices that can help alleviate some problem. I only listed those that I use but challenge you to find out more. In closing I want to share a few of my “recipes”…

Here is a recipe for a simple heating (sports) cream that you can make that replicates those that you buy:
1 part cayenne to 5 parts (Vaseline) petroleum jelly. Melt the Vaseline over low to medium-low heat and add the cayenne. Let it cool and apply to area to treat muscle sprains, stiffness or minor athletic injuries. In India, they have a formula that uses ghee rather than the Vaseline, so by all means, use any extra ghee that you may have for an even more natural product.

For a cold or upper respiratory problem, I make an herbal tea with the following:
Add boiling water to a few stems of *fresh rosemary, a few sprigs of fresh thyme and/or basil, some chopped fresh ginger, a few slices of lemon (lemons shrink swollen membranes and acts as an expectorant) a dash or two of cayenne (to taste), cinnamon (becoming known for its heart healthy properties) and honey. *I like to use a pestle and mortar and mash these ingredients first to release some of their properties. Let this steep for ten minutes and then strain into a cup. It may take some getting used to but it does become somewhat soothing. If you don’t have all of the ingredients than use what you have. If you have rosemary and lemon, cayenne and honey, that will soothe as well. It will definitely get your system going.

As a preventative during an outbreak, I take a spoon of the following throughout the day.
I get a small ramekin and put one part honey to one part vinegar or lemon juice and add cayenne and a dash of cinnamon to taste. I know, it may seem fowl but desperate times call for desperate measures. I take this when I feel my body is just beginning to fight something. Get to know your body and the first signs of an illness. My family will relunctantly come to me and ask for this when they are desperate. I take it four or five times through the day for the first day or two or three. It won’t hurt you and you may find some benefit.

A Stimulating Tea
Put 3-4 tablespoon peppermint, rosemary or eucalyptus leaves (rinsed, drained and blotted dry) into a small pot and cover with 4 cups of boiling water. Let steep for 10 minutes and drain. Add ½ teaspoon ground cardamom and honey, if desired, and drink.

So, check out your own kitchen next time you feel a cold coming on. These herbs and spices have been used for centuries and are at the root of many of our laboratory processed medicines with out the dire consequences or cost. These have worked for me and I hope you get some enjoyment exploring what Mother Nature gave us to work with.

A Pig's Tale/Tail Part Two: The Whole Hog

tb.epicurse@verizon.net — Fri, 15 Feb 2008 15:03:33

One day while perusing Craigslist, I came across an interesting ad. I love seeing another angle on what's happening in local restaurants—the ones that need new help every week (and wonder why). I love to check out the real estate and restaurants for sale, and I also enjoy seeing the "treasures" people have to see if there's anything I can strip, paint, or practice some new technique on in my down time—much to my husband's chagrin. But this one day, I saw the ad and the tag line that read "Pig Roaster Needed ASAP". Well, blow me down! You don't see that every day in New England, and naturally, I had to read more.

The ad was from a frustrated caterer who needed a qualified pig roaster for Sunday, and it was now Friday! It was obvious from the text that the boy was clueless, and I sat there shaking my head and giggling. (Yes, I do have a life but it's the little things in life that keep me going). So, anyhoo, I felt compelled to write back to the young buffoon offering, if not anything else, advice. Politely as possible, I asked if he knew what he was doing.

I told him that I grew up around pig feed's, as they were called in the Midwest back then, and knew enough about them. Pig feed's were as common a spring time ritual as the return of the jonquils and daffodils. I had never done the actual roasting, per se, but my brother roasted many a swine for farmer and rancher friends in Kansas. His first job was breaking horses for these people, and he soon came to be in charge of the roasting, as well as helping to make the contraptions for the said pig event. I went and spent a good part of many a weekend observing (and partaking in) this time honored tradition.

You began on a Friday night preparing the pig and readying the fire and then pretty much sat around the fire drinking until the late-Saturday-afternoon feast began. These roasts were a farmer's way of giving back to family, friends, and neighbors and giving thanks for surviving another long, hard winter. Low and slow was the way to go!

So, I asked "pig boy," as my family later came to call him, if he knew how to select a good pig, much less find a reputable butcher, which would probably have to be a wholesaler in these parts. I told him I didn't know what kind of bbq's they used but asked if he knew the right temps and if he had all the required accoutrement needed: chicken wire helped, pliers, good gloves, fire starting necessities, and on and on. I told him good luck and hoped he'd have a successful feed.

Well, no sooner had I sent the message then a reply came back. HELP! Would I, could I help him out? Manuel, his pig roaster, up and quit on him, just like that, leaving him high and dry! He was desperate and guaranteed that, as owner of the company, he had done plenty of these, but with all the other aspects of the event, he needed someone to "man" the pig roasting and help set it up. I really had nothing going on that weekend and thought, if anything else, this could be an interesting story. We agreed upon a figure, a figure much higher than what he paid Manuel, I expect...but, he was the one in a pinch, so I had the upper hand!

He asked if I could be there at 4 am on Sunday and gave me an address for a church about thirty minutes away. It did give me pause—middle of the night, middle of nowhere with a man I met on-line...but, I figured if this was some mad man, he was going to pretty elaborate lengths, and so I agreed. I called my husband and told him what I was up to, and he took it with the patient, calm, and loving support that all dear husbands should when presented with a wife doing a pig feed for 200 in the middle of the night, in the middle of nowhere, with a guy she's never met. Later that night, he did tell our sons and began with "Guys, guess what your mama got herself into this time..." You see a pattern here? My friends thought I was nuts, but they've become accustomed to my ways, as well.

Said morning came, so off I went at 3 am with our home number programmed into my cell phone and ready to hit it should there be something odd when I got there (like anyone could really do anything then but...it made me feel better). I arrived early to scout out the area and make sure it felt legit. There, indeed, was a large tent and tables and chairs, ready to be set up, as well as some roasting grills. Pig Boy arrived. We do the formalities, and he leads me to his truck to meet my help and our guests of honor! Three pigs and 2 sheep to be exact...hmmm, I hadn't been told that, but what the heck! one pig, three pigs! Whatever.

I meet my help, two of Pig Boys bff's who had been out all night partying and were trying to stay awake and/or sober. Now, how can I say this. Without prejudice and pre-conceived notions, these boys were stereotypical (or what one would assume to be stereotypical) Harvard MBA students. They were Mutt & Jeff sized. Jeff who was really "Johns"—not John—was the prize. His pig roasting attire was, I kid you not, a pair of khakis, shearling moccasin type slippers—sockless, of course—a cashmere sweater—yes, I said cashmere! with the oh-so-preppy Polo underneath—all in a nice shade of pig roasting teal!!! Mutt, well, he was not quite as primped, but still, I felt so underdressed, as you could imagine!

We began hoisting the objects of our desire onto the tables. Well, I began the hoisting, as I pushed them aside to get them going...I am not tall but I can be mighty. Pig Boy, Mutt, and Jeff were trying to find a way to lift those messy, little piggies and not soil their clothes. I did lift the first one—a 65 pounder, and then said "Guys, c'mon, you're young and tall. I'm not lifting anymore, let's get going," which startled them, since their pride was at stake, and they relented. We unwrapped the pigs, and to my horror, not only do I find the gnarliest, oldest product passed off as pork, but they were still semi-frozen! I was mortified and asked Pig Boy why he had accepted these things. I told him they were frightening and of a quality and condition no one should ever, ever have accepted...and why, dear God, were they still frozen? They had to have been in a locker for ages and were terribly frost bitten, and the ears were tattered and torn or nibbled off—I couldn't tell. The extremities were deteriorating, and I was totally skeeved out and disgusted (and was so thankful it wasn't my catering gig!). At least the skin was prepped and the hair removed! I told Mutt to run in and get hot water, so we could begin flushing the insides, as time was a ticking, and we still needed to get the pigs ready and on the spit. Pig Boy just had that deer-in-headlights look, which lasted throughout the morning.

We began wrapping the pig in chicken wire, so there would be protection, and when the meat became so well done and was at that fall-off-the-bones stage, it wouldn't go anywhere (if only I knew then). Pig Boy only brought the most minimal of tools and not work gloves, which is what is needed working with this type of wire. If you have ever worked with chicken wire, you will know what I mean. It's not pretty, it's not easy, and the fool only brought one pair of dull wire cutters. This is labor intensive at this stage, and you wrap the pig in about a ten foot length and wrap it over and then secure the ends together with more wire. As you can imagine, working with no gloves and dull snippers took time and plenty of my flesh...but when I become focused on a job, I persevere. The bff's were appalled, and Mutt kept excusing himself, as he had had just a little too much fun that evening (and was useless anyway). We somehow managed to get the little piggies ready for the party, when it was time for the fun part. There is finesse needed in managing to get a ten foot rod strategically through a hog's mouth and out the other end, the buttocks area to be exact....believe me, the ribs get in the way and it's extremely heavy and bulky. Then you have to lift the pig on the rod, a person on each end, and lift it over your head to place it on the rotisserie grooves.

It was already after 6 am, and we still had the sheep to do. I had also been telling Pig Boy to get the fire ready so it could be at cooking temp. I was wrapped up in the pig project, so to speak, and wasn't paying as much attention to him. We were through with the pig set up, and the fire was not even begun! I yelled at Pig Boy and he said it was cool, this was how they always did it...as he whipped out a can of lighter fluid, drowning the coals and threw matches in. I was horrified! No!!!! You don't engulf the meat in flames! You put it on when it was at the right temp. You would blacken the poor, already nasty little pig! It was bad enough looking at these-what-was-passed-off-for-as-pigs with their nibbled ears and dull, frozen, icy-grey eyes staring out at you. But, it was too late! I saw a water bottle near and immediately began spritzing the pigs, trying to put out some of the flames, since they, duh! caught fire. Well, the bottles were not filled with water, but Pig Boy's cheap garlic oil baste, so you can imagine how that helped. Dante's Inferno was before me! I was swearing like a long shoreman and did briefly consider the consequences being in a church yard (but, truthfully, it somehow gave me a vicarious pleasure, as well). I asked what in hell was he doing with this? What was pig skin but lard, fat, future cracklin's and pork rind—it did not need oil! at least not in this stage of the game. So, I sent Mutt in to fetch water to douse the flames, before it was too late. Pig Boy just stood there with his mouth open, entranced by his profit up in flames. This was where I told him to confide in me, he hadn't really done this before, right? I told him I would stay there until noon, as we had previously agreed upon, and by that time, they would just need to monitor the meat until it was done that evening. This snapped him back to and he said "What? Lunch is at noon. The Bishop is here and after church they would eat." Gulp, gulp, a few more expletive deletes...noon!!!!!! There were three, 65-pound pigs and two sheep to roast, and it was now close to seven. I won't even go into explaining the broken rotisserie. One motor was malfunctioning, and as it was supposed to make a full, even revolution for even cooking, this wonky one rolled, rolled and then ker-plunked to the other side, so only one side of Porky Pig was getting tanned! By this time P.B. (Pig Boy) just shrugged, baffled, with his head just slowly shaking right to left. I told him to go work on the setup, as his other "helpers" were arriving and I would try to right these wrongs. He had food to reheat in the kitchen and confided quite smugly to me as he left "I also have two huge hams baking in the ovens for those who don't like pork" and off he walked. I swear to God, those were his words! I opened my mouth to make a retort, scrunched my eyebrows to address his comment, and shook my head and knew no one would ever believe me.

The pigs would never be ready, but what could I do? I did my work and later asked P.B. what we were going to do, since the meat was not even half way close to being done. He said it was fine, that's how they always did it, and it'd work out. I asked him where the barbecue sauce and buns were? He gave me that deer-in-headlights stare again and asked why we needed that. I told him for the pulled pork with barbecue sauce. Hmm, we've never done that, but he did have a jar of mint jelly to spread on the lamb!

A few people were beginning to mill about and my nerves were on over time. I told P.B. to bring one of the large eight foot grills over that were intended for the hotdogs and hamburgers. We needed to do something for the meat that wasn't going to get cooked. Two of the pig rotisseries were going full speed now and the temps were right. You could hold your hand over the flames for eight to ten seconds, so I knew it was around 350º and not the 600-700 plus when it began! But that one wonky rotisserie kept missing the one side, and I had no idea what to do with that. I told P.B. we needed to come up with some type of sauce to disguise the meat. As I found out later, this guy's catering was making food two to three days in advance. He used boxed, prepared and canned food—all of which was alien to me and my type of catering, which is fresh and from scratch. But I had to overlook this and forge onward despite my internal conflicts, as we had meat that needed to be cut off and grilled! Yum! I managed to throw together some type of sauce with the few, meager ingredients he did bring, but I must admit, it was not my proudest moment.

Church was now out and the congregation was outside smiling, walking around, and waiting for that roasted pig, which they knew so little about. Of course, the pigs roasting in the corner were the big draw, and people gravitated over, asking questions and pointing at the somewhat disgusting sight. I told the guys to all smile and act like we knew what we were doing. A pig roasting, for animals of this size and for this type of equipment, would be a minimum of twelve hours for the exterior meat and closer to twenty for the interior rib area. Some of the exterior meat on one pig was passable, and I lobbed off chunks of the not-so-done meat and plopped them onto the grill, cooked them, dotted them with an herbal-oil type of sauce and panned them for the tables. By this time we had a crowd of at least twenty people watching us, impressed at what to them was competence in action. Ignorance is bliss. I should have known things were going too smoothly, when all of a sudden, all hell broke loose, again. The middle pig caught on fire and burst into flames! It was going around and around just fueling the flames like a pyrotechnic show gone awry. Mutt and Jeff gasped, and I told them to smile and act calm and to go get some water. Mutt ran off and soon returned, and I doused the pig, again, and to my surprise—the audience who had gathered broke out into applause! They thought this was supposed to happen! One lady said, "This is marvelous..." and "I have never seen this done before"...(you can be sure of that!) I didn't know if I was going to laugh or cry and thanked the pig roasting gods that we weren't back in the Midwest right now, or we'd be tarred, feathered, and run off the land and required to pay for the meat. Mutt and Jeff whispered and asked why the crowd was clapping, and I told them the fools thought this was part of pig roasting and to just go along with it and to yuk it up. I then managed to tell the crowd that the food was almost ready and that I thought the Bishop wanted to speak shortly before eating, and the crowd dissapated. No sooner had the crowd left than the last remaining pig, the one on the wonky rotisserie, fell into the fire, and it, too, caught on fire! This was more difficult, as we had to somehow lift a burning pig out of the fire, put out the flames, unwrap the hot chicken wire, and get it ready for the grill!!!!!...and we did, somehow. The rest is almost a blur. And, believe me when I tell you, I left a good deal out! These were but a few of the many, many, many highlights of the day. When I looked at my watch, noting that it was after 12:30, I told P.B.and his bff's that it was time for me to go...they looked somewhat nervous, but the first round of food was out, and I could do no more (damage).

I went inside to gather my things and wash myself up. I looked in the mirror and, with horror, stepped back at my reflection. I had so much soot, dirt, and grease over my face that I was unrecognizable. I resembled Al Jolsen in black-face makeup. My pulled-back hair was jabbing out here and there. My hands were swollen from the many cuts and bruises from the chicken wire and emergencies. I dampened a paper towel and wiped my face down. I didn't really care, because I was so tired, sore, frustrated, and grateful, at the same time, that only for an instant did my appearance bother me. I pulled up what dignity I had left, marched outside and asked Mutt and Jeff why they didn't tell me I looked so horrendous. They just looked at each other and shrugged—I was not surprised. I told PB I was leaving and that we could settle up. "Oh, can I send you a check?" I was not surprised. Nothing surprised me after that...I just wanted to distance myself from this debacle, this incompetent caterer who was somehow booked every week, and just go home and tend to my wounds. And, so, I did. And when my story was retold and friends said "no way", I was not surprised. But, this is a true tale. And, I must embarrassingly admit, I did go and help the Pig Boy for a couple more pig roasts in the weeks to come...but, are you surprised? You must admit, at the very least, it's a good tale...

A Pig's Tale/Tail Part One, The Beginning

tb.epicurse@verizon.net — Sun, 10 Feb 2008 14:32:18

As a new member of Foodsville, aka Coolsville, and a member of the Porkers, the upcoming trip in March to eat bbq has obviously struck a hidden, unbeknownst-even-to-me, passionate pork pileup that must be released. I am passionate about all food and go on experimental food trials cooking or baking the same thing over and over until I hit what I find pleasing (or until my family waves the little white food flag!) be it cookies, molten chocolate cakes, pates, breads, various hot sauces from Trinidad to la jiao jang (a Chinese hot condiment where the best recipe that I tweaked hailed from a General Mao's village), pickled sweet jalapenos, to most recently Mexican chorizo (not the Portugese East coast stuff!)...you get the idea. I make barbecue as readily as is possible from pulled pork, to baby back ribs to brisket. My family now yawns if I mention barbecue as they would had I suggested scrambled eggs for dinner. I do the rub thang and make a decent, okay, good barbecue sauce and some nasty baked beans and a red chile streusel corn bread, too. I have a small smoker that I use whenever the weather is cooperative when it's not too windy or too cold. And when this isn't possible (living in the Northeast) I do much slow cooking in the oven with wonderful results.

My very first aroma, taste, feel-good-all-over memory into bbq was when my brother took me to Miss Irma's on the "other side of town" which was where the African-Americans lived (and in southeast Kansas in the 60s they were not referred to as African-Americans either). My brother knew no stranger, nor does he to this day, but he knew Miss Irma and somehow became friends with her, was interested in her back yard smoking shack behind her local hang out restaurant. She taught him the makings of smoking meats. She allowed him to hang out in the shack and learn. So, when one day he honored me by asking if I wanted to go to a place that was a surprise, I was blown away. He was the oldest in the family and I the youngest, with five others in-between, so this was an adventure. I must admit that when we first arrived, I was thrilled and yet a tad apprehensive.

My family was well-known in town as my father was the chemistry professor at the local college. He was tolerant when other's weren't, he was outspoken when other's weren't. We were the family that always had "those colored kids" over as he hated to see kids left behind at the dorms over a holiday or break when they couldn't afford to go home. Home was every where from Alabama to Georgia to Mississippi to back East and even the kids from the Mid-East (yes, Iran and the area..why they would come to school in America and land in the back woods of Kansas is beyond me) We knew that when my father spoke to my mother and we heard the "but Mama what's a few more mouths to feed?" or "I can't leave those boys there"...or "It's a play off game, Mama." Well, we knew that my mom would be spending the day in the grocery store, then into the kitchen putting out platter after platter of the most fabulous foods until there was not a crumb left in the house and she dropped. So, I mention this because at that time racial tensions were running high and southeast Kansas was caught not quite knowing where they fit: if they were more northern or southern (and not that that mattered in the U.S. at that time). The town we lived in was near the four corners of Kansas: Arkansas, Missouri, Oklahoma. A breeding ground of independent thought and ideology it was not! So, we became known in the black community as "good people" and the Kern girls had black students step up for them at various times when there was racial conflicts brewing so as to protect us.

I mention this because when we pulled up to Miss Irma's, it was with some trepidation on my part. My love for rhythmn and blues and Motown today can be attributed to our guests from the dorms and even hearing "Dock Of The Bay" still moves me because I remember one student who sang it even better than Otis-but I mention this because we always had people of different creed and color in our home. So when we pulled up, hanging outside were some of the locals, bouncing a basket ball, eyeing us and giving my brother a nod. We went inside and I had never seen a place like this before. It had kitchen type tables and vivid colors all about, all various styles, not matching and not like the restaurants I'd been into with the matchy matchy boring motif. No two tables were the same but it had a warm feeling of someone's home, Miss Irma's home. The smells were the next to hit-that blast of smoked meat mixed with food cooking in the back, fresh pies, collared greens, all wafted into one big wallop of tastebud teasing. Needless to say, we were the only whites and the place became silent for an instant, forks mid air. Miss Irma came shuffling over and gave my brother a big bear hug and that seemed to send a signal and people went on back to their eating. She looked at me and said "Baby, what's your name and do you like barbecue?" all in one breath and then gave me a great big bear hug too. Now, my mother was known for her cooking and was asked to bake, make, invite, and just about everything to do with food. She was wonderful but no barbecue she put out had me prepared for what was in store.

We sat down and she and my brother chit chatted, she mentioned that he needed to look out back in the smoke shack for something, he left for a moment and left me uncomfortably waiting. I was ill at ease, seeming out of place, until Miss Irma sent over a lazy susan full of relishes, salads and the like I'd never seen before. There was homemade pickles, both sweet and sour, pickalilli, cabbage relishes, macaroni salad, pickled red onions and more I can't even recall. But, that lazy susan concept was new to me and something I have adored ever since. I was devouring everything on the tray along with some homemade bread and putting it away like I had just plowed the back forty! My brother returned, looked at me and then at Miss Irma and laughed. We didn't order, she just seemed to know what to bring us which was a little bit of everything...pulled pork, some ribs- both pork and beef, burnt ends, brisket and chicken -all with the best barbecue sauce I had ever tasted. When you thought you were beyond another succulent, smokey bite of anything getting into your face hole, she brought over a slice of lemon meringue pie that had the highest and lightest meringue and the tangiest and, yet, sweetest filling ever with that melt in your mouth crust that only a Crisco or lard could do. It was almost sacriligious because my mother was known for her pies and they were truly mouth watering...until I had Miss Irma's. Sweet rapture! That is all I can remember. To this day, I have never had such an awakening from such a meal...and an awakening it was. For my trail of bbq perfection began on that day and has continued to take me on a journey ever since...

I began this tale wanting to share with you how I got into doing pig roasts - yes, the whole hog on a rotisserie - with the pole going in the pie hole and the other coming out little porkies bum--it's not pretty but it's the nature of the beast. I became side lined as only now, at this time of writing, had this memory of my first time in Miss Irma's surfaced. I hadn't thought of her for decades but know that my porcine tale could no more be told without first embracing how I became so obsessed with barbecue: something obviously hidden in the deep recesses of my subconscious all these years...until now.

So, I shall end a Pig's Tale/Tail here and take up Part Two later where I promise to share with you a somewhat hilarious adventure in Pig Roasting 101. Should I be the only one to read this than I am quite content and satisfied for it is cathartic and has revealed another path on my quest for food riches of my soul.

Until next time, happy eating!

Do you know your bbq?

tb.epicurse@verizon.net — Sat, 09 Feb 2008 20:47:09

It is with lip-smacking anticipation that I await my first Foodsville foodie trip for bbq next month. BBQ has always been in my veins having been brought up in Kansas where the best barbecue reins supreme. The Kansas City BBQ Association is one that governs many of the cook-offs through out the country including the annual Massachusetts sanctioned event held near here.

Now 'cue affiliation is one that is extremely personal to each of us and something each area of the U.S. will attest as the best. It is as vast a field as how one takes their martinis! For true afficiandos the rule of thumb is that only pork is considered barbecue...like it or not, it is the one thing true barbecue-ists will attest to. Texas is not even considered barbecue country because they use beef (but Texas, being Texas, could care less what the rest of us think since they know best, do every thing better and really did secede from the union years back--and do their own thang anyway!)

But, I digress...the cut of meat as does the sauce varies from region to region as to what constitutes true 'cue. North Carolina is as different from South Carolina where they have chopped and sliced pork served with a peppery vinegar based sauce along with a side of hush puppies and S.C. has the same chopped and sliced but serves a mustard-based sauce along with an organ meat hash, on the side.

Every region of each state may have their own twist on bbq. In Kentucky you'll find mutton barbecue as a favorite. This is the South and they take their bbq as seriously as their hell and brimstone Sunday sermons!!!

The central South does the "pulled" thang with a sweet tomato-based sauce being the finger-licking sauce of choice. Memphis, well-known for its' ribs offers the slab and pulled chicken, as well. In ol' Alabam, they kick things up a notch with a spicier sauce and can offer pulled or chopped pork along with their slabs o'meat. Arkansas has as many tomato based sauces as regions and will offer most styles and cuts of meat. Texas, as mentioned before, loves their big-assed beef ribs with a red based sauce and the fixin's on the side and as you head west you will get into beef based bbq - much to the chagrin of the true southern barbecuers...who usually blame this outrage on the damned yankees (the Colonials, not the team) for messing up a good thing with pork...for pork is and shall evermore be, king in the south.