While rummaging through the computer today I came across the following ad:  “ROAST PIG CATERING—-locally raised pigs for a rustic, elegant centerpiece to your event”.  My first thought was “how can a roast pig be both rustic and elegant?”  Some years ago Dr. Advice and I decided to throw a luau in our back yard, including roast pig et al.


We rented a rather large fire pit, in which the little fellow would turn succulent and juicy.  Locating  the pig was no problem as we knew someone who raised pigs for that very purpose.  However, he convinced us that it would be better if he started the cooking and deliver it so that we could simply plop the pig into the fire pit for effect, since it would take far too long to do it the Hawaiian way.  It would make far better theater that way.


Deciding to make a real “production” of the occasion, I wore a distinctly Asian dress slit up one thigh, dyed my hair black, and bought a faux ivory cigarette holder.  An altogether sexy outfit.  As the guests arrived, all appropriately attired in Hawaiian shirts and as I recall, a grass skirt or two, I took a few puffs with my cigarette holder, and immediately became so nauseated that I went to bed for most of the evening, leaving the guests to fend for themselves.

The glorious pig arrived, looking splendid and with a tantalizing smell.  However, after carrying him around the garden to show the guests, it was found that he was not done, in  fact, when slicing into it, it discharged a rather vermillion tinge.

Since the pig was too large to fit into the oven, Dr. Advice divided it into two pieces, and after cranking the oven up a few notches, went back to the party for another hour.

A lot of the guests were leaving around 12:00 or 12:30, just as the pig came out of the oven.  Those stragglers who were left, had a few delicious bites of our “rustic, elegant” pig, sans the lovely red apple I had ready to place in his mouth.  It was a great party in spite of the late “guest” of honor, which no one seemed to miss!

I don’t remember what happened to the remainder of our great experiment the next day, as I was busy trying to wash the black dye out of my hair.