She isn’t particularly pretty. When you speak of her no one really ever gets too excited. In fact, im not sure people are completely listening. One might describe her as plain, or just, not memorable. It’s like when someone you are really fond of calls you cute, it stings a bit because you dont want cute, you want to be their sexy.
Don’t get me wrong, she isn’t rejected ever, she’s always welcomed. She’s always someones favorite, someone you couldn’t pick out of the room, someone with that sort of taste. At the end of the night you just don’t really recall your conversation with her, she was there though, right…
There she is. Young. There’s some age on her sure but nothing defining. She is the distant unrelated cousin at the Christmas party. You always saw her. She wore those ‘sweaters.’ Her presence was kind of annoying, yet, the familiarness of her was somewhat comforting.
She disappeared for a while. Or maybe that was you.
And then there she was…only this time it wasn’t at Christmas, it was in the middle of spring. Full, glorious, blooming, spring. The sweater was gone, very gone. Replaced with something very revealing, there was nothing cute about her. She had age*, their was an air of sophistication*. You planned on remembering more than this conversation. A smile played across your lips as you gazed at her, there was more than spring radiating in you.
We’ll call it appetite.
*air = 425 for 90 min
*sophistication = bourbon, brown sugar, apple cider vinegar glaze
I eat out every night, foraging for food among the Mission’s sea of taquerias and local eateries. I hate suburban malls and getting up early on weekends, and also have no patience for shopping of any sort. With this context, you can see that I was the perfect candidate to figure out storage for our frozen pig. The original plan to store our meaty parcels, to distribute them amongst our tiny urban iceboxes, sounded much smarter while bourbon-storming. In the sober light of the busy work weeks that preceded our pig pick-up, we decided to acquire a chest freezer.
We started with the used appliance store around the corner from Sarah’s house. After two visits, a phone call and a host of broken promises to call us with quotes, we decided that the establishment was probably a front for trafficking illegal workers and we turned to Craigslist. At first glance I was stoked; there were freezers, many under $100. The available inventory was spread throughout the far reaches of the bay area. After three days full of maddening staccato flakey communication brought me no closer to our desired acquisition, I remembered why I hate Craigslist. One look at the Home Depot website and a new chest freezer didn’t look so expensive. And that my friends is how I ended up at the Daly City Home Depot at 8:30 this morning.
We had to get up early and leave our lovely borrowed Calistoga compound to get to the fair by 8AM.
The grand champion went for $60/lb. That’s a $15,000 of fine swining.
The friends are patiently waiting for the price to come down.
American society seems to place a premium on attractiveness even at livestock auctions. After observing the sale of 81 pigs we have found that handsome boys command a premium of $.75/lb -$1.50/lb for their pigs while the prettiest girls get at least $2/lb and often more than the going average (33%-180% premium) for their pigs. It’s all in the smile.
After about 4 hours of auction and several unsuccessful bids we finally bought pig number 155 of 200. She’s a 268 lb Crossbred Market Hog named Weasel, raised by Lindsay Schmitz of the Mt. George 4H Club…the very same club under which Sarah raised her lambs years ago!
Is when a band of friends will venture to the Napa Valley Expo and buy a pig at auction. This ritual sacrifice will render tasty pig parts for our freezers and here at ayearofpig.com we will chronicle the culinary delights, moral reflection and bourbon-sipping that ensues.