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Cooking-Piggy-art - 9/27/01


One SCA group's humorous adventure cooking a pig.


NOTE: See also the files: whole-pig-msg, roast-pork-msg, pork-msg, Whole-Pig-Fst-art, meat-carving-bib, larding-msg, sausages-msg, p-pigs-msg.





This file is a collection of various messages having a common theme that I  have collected from my reading of the various computer networks. Some messages date back to 1989, some may be as recent as yesterday.


This file is part of a collection of files called Stefan's Florilegium. These files are available on the Internet at: http://www.florilegium.org


I have done  a limited amount  of  editing. Messages having to do  with separate topics  were sometimes split into different files and sometimes extraneous information was removed. For instance, the  message IDs  were removed to save space and remove clutter.


The comments made in these messages are not necessarily my viewpoints. I make  no claims  as  to the accuracy  of  the information  given  by the individual authors.


Please respect the time  and  efforts of  those who have written  these messages. The copyright status  of these messages  is  unclear  at this time. If information  is  published  from  these  messages, please give credit to the originator(s).


Thank you,

   Mark S. Harris                  AKA:  THLord Stefan li Rous

                                         Stefan at florilegium.org



Date: Tue, 28 Aug 2001 16:56:57 -0500

From: Rob Downie <rdownie at icenter.net>

To: sca-cooks at ansteorra.org

Subject: Re: [Sca-cooks] Feast Horror Stories


We had similar incident at a camping event we traditionally hold every september long weekend.  Here follows the autocrat's account she submitted to our Chronicle (well, at least she can laugh at herself):


Well, it went like this...


Once upon a long-ago time, oh, 'round about the late 5th C. in Britain, a great boar hunt took place.  After much bashing about in the bushes, fussing and whooping, the victorious warriors dragged back a pig, handed it over to the women and said, "Cook it!".


Terrific.  It was bigger'n us.  It was icky.  The spit wouldn't go into it properly and its tongue fell out on the back steps.  (Yeccccchhhh!)  A coupla the warriors were yanked back into the kitchen and told to hie the pig out to the fire-pit.  They said, "But...".  The cook said, "No hie, no eat". They hied.  With speed.


Meanwhile, the sun was climbing ever higher...well...it would have if all those clouds hadn't been blocking it. It spat. The pig wouldn't set up on the turn thingy properly.  It rained.  The pig was ready to go.  It misted. Trusty warriors were selected to guard the da..er...precious pig.  They were to turn it and baste it and turn it and turn it and drink...TURN it...


It rained some more.  It rained on the warriors.  They sogged.  It rained on the pig.  It smoked.  It rained on the cooking pig fat.  It flared. The bloody pig caught fire. Ohmygodsanybodysgods! Whadda we do now??!


The Flaming Pig Dance, that's what.  A warrior leapt to his feet, snatched up a shovel and hopped up and down, all the time whaling on that flaming pig.  Somebody yelled, "Throw sand on it!", thinking himself a wit.  He was half right.  The pig went out.  We lubricated the wild-eyed warrior. He was hot, but that was okay 'cause the rain cooled him down.


The pig cooked on but wasn't done -- not in any sense of the word. After biding its time, sulking away, it set up the next vic..er...warrior. Shift had changed and a new suck...er...guard was minding the pig (he probably minded the rain, too, but we don't mind that.)  It stopped raining.  The pig got crispy.  The fat got bubbly.  It rained.  The fat flared and...well, we've been there before, right?


Figuring he knew the steps, the warrior grabbed his shovel and danced around that flaming pig, whomping away.  Pig fought back.  POP.  Pig wasn't the only thing on fire.  Poor ol' warrior set a new fashion with that short-in-front hairstyle.  Don't think the singed brows are gonna catch on with the guys, though.  Battle wound on the forehead was pretty impressive -- 'bout second degree, I'd say.


Rain died off.  Pig settled down. So did the warrior.  Scotch helped -- medicinal, of course.  We watched and watched and watched.  The pig wouldn't play.  We wandered off. The dance was ended and the pig was tasty.


The Seneschal (spoilsport!) recommended that the Flaming Pig Dance not be added to the Baronial collection.  "After all", she sniffed, "We'll Have None of That Here!"


By Sian verch Gruffydd, Autocrat, co-cook (and Seneschal)


Baroness Faerisa Gwynarden

Castel Rouge


<the end>

Formatting copyright © Mark S. Harris (THLord Stefan li Rous).
All other copyrights are property of the original article and message authors.

Comments to the Editor: stefan at florilegium.org