First: my sincere apologies for the length of this piece.
This story came to light, a few years ago, as I worked my way through over a century of saved farm records.
In 1957, my ancestors , not known for their planning skills, reasonable temperaments , or patience with politeness, decided to commemorate their hundredth year in the swamp.
As the story goes, Rena Brown Macrea got into a dust up with Mildred Elizabeth Macrea bout roast'n a pig for this centennial shindig.
An architectural note will prove to be helpful later in this story... so I'll include it here:
Great grandaddy-times-6 had found his way to the protection of the Great Dismal Line families - for good a sufficient reason - in the Winter of 1856. By high Summer of 1857, he had picked up a parcel of land and determined that he should build a home with a very deep basement.
Against all advice, he dug the basement too deep - hence the installment of the first sump pump in this region.
Those first pumps were manual (near as I can tell, this operation was very much akin to bale'n water out of a boat, uphill, and was probably the real reason Great Grandaddy produced 9 children.)
By 1957, after a whimsical attempt to install electricity and indoor plumbing, the home continued to protect my fractious kin till 2015 when, due to catastrophic flood damage, it was condemned.
The only good part of lose'n my home was the happy death of the second tier of sump pumps...gas driven devils..
and I'm still grateful for their gruesome drowning.
In 1975,my Uncles decided that they would revamp an old fish camp, of uncertain circa, at the edge of our farm overlook'n the swamp lake.
Off season, they said, the plan was to rent it out to tourists who wanted a quiet, secluded spot to rest up
In fact, they rebuilt themselves a cabin to entertain their ladies. So, of course, they made sure to rig up the ancient, detached, summer kitchen with a working stove - cause the '57 pig ruckus, I'm bout to tell y'all bout, had forever damped any attempt to relight the pilot flame - hung a mirror, and built a new outhouse.
By the time I came along, the end of the 20th century had whittled us down some.
The fish camp had sat abandoned.
After the flood, it took half a year to get my new home up to code so I could be allowed to pay taxes on it.
The biggest change I made was to add an indoor kitchen. While work' n my way through ancient deeds and permits, the infamous pig feud of 1957 came to light.
.............
Rena Brown Macrea and her sister, Mildred Elizabeth Macrea, were walk'n about with two of my Great Uncles; so when the idea of a family centennial bounced itself round the front veranda, the two sisters, want'n to impress their beaus, shot up as one and hollered out "I'll roast the pig!"
...........
On the big day, a suckling pig, butchered with head intact, arrived at the back door.
Rena and Mildred pounced on that suckling like two wild women! Both of em want'n to show off their qualifications for matrimony.
Rena went to wash'n and salt'n th inside and Mildred started to cook up her sauce.
Sion, that pig was oiled, salted and ready for the oven.
Cept it didn't fit.
First, I guess, there was a brief row bout whether or not to behead the thing.
Then they tried to scrunch it up sideways.
Finally, someone came up with the bright idea of using a chainsaw to slice the pig into half... along it's waist. Then roast one half in the big house oven, and the other half in the fish camp oven.
Rena was the faster and called dibs on the front end. Mildred threw a spoon at her sister and said the words that are still hollered today when someone wants to say they aren't gonna do somethin outrageous.
"I ain't gonna cook a pig's ass in a fish camp!"
............
Roast Whole Suckling Pig
Ingredients are simple:
Pick out a shoat with dimples.
Pepper and salt
Good corn oil
One gallon of sauce.
Directions don't take but a minute
Heat your oven to 300°
Rub the pig with salt, pepper, and oil
Line your oven with foil
And stick the pig in it.
Roast till shoulders read 160°
Let it sit for a bit
Then pull it apart
Add sauce
Eat.
(If you need to chainsaw your pig in two,
Do what southern sisters do.
Roast in two ovens till both ends are done.
Then shove back together
And cover the waistline
With rosemary and lavender)
YOU ARE READING
Feeding Folks
HumorHI folks :) Please read... This is a book open to anyone who wants to play. If you would like to share an entertaining adventure, please pm it to me @naomimrshl I never tell folks what to write, so what you send will get posted unless it breaks o...
