A couple of weeks ago, we threw down with the latest installment of the backyard pig roast. By all accounts, it was a success.
I'll have to take the critics' word on the subject.
I was working on 1.5 hours of sleep and 26 hours of beer drinking.
A rough weekend.
The roast was co-hosted by the Flaherty family and assisted by numerous neighbors. A hearty thank you to all who joined us on Friday and Saturday.
Here are the preparation pictures:
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This is Gary II. The pig, not the Flaherty. |
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The Gary II Roaster - comfortably seats one 175 lb. pig. |
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Gary and Jim assisting Gary II. |
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Henry volunteered to act as a measuring device.
The pig was roughly three Henrys. |
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How do you ruin a childhood? |
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Jack Wallace. Pig roast legend. |
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No one does backyard cuisine like we do. |
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The Mop. |
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In case you were wondering, he's asleep. |
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Speechless. |
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Chris Lewis shows off his inner Howard Hughes. |
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You would think the pole played a larger role in this game. |
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There were only two morons who nursed the roaster through the night.
One of us -- not wearing red -- even managed to sleep through most of the early morning and leave the 4a and 6a mops to a solo artist.
Yeah, I nailed it. Hope you slept well, Flaherty. |
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What do you do when you finish undressing the pig at 10:30a?
You drink. |
The preparation highlights:
Pig roasts and garage sales do not mix.
Having multiple pig roast "experts" dissecting every pig roast decision. Too large of a pig. Too early of a start time. Too much charcoal. Not enough charcoal. Too much rub. Not enough rub. Hickory smoke versus Apple smoke. Face the roaster north-south. Face it east-west. Take the temperature at 4a. Wait till 8a. Pull to eat. Cut to eat. Hilarious. This just in...you can't F up a pig roast.
Jack Wallace. Honest. Chock full of side-splitting stories. Sponsored by the Red Man Plug. I love that guy and I want him at every party I do from here on out.
A tent that survived two Thursday thunderstorms.
Letting Gary walk right into my brother's "talking-about-work" phobia. Note to Gary: let us know if you ever find anything out about it. We are still unsure he even works there.
Estate Avenue is a straight shot. The first wall you hit is not the problem, it's the second one that'll get you in trouble.
Still not understanding the secret dig behind the Handsome Rob line.
Being able to avoid sharing the "New Year's Eve" story with new friends.
Penn State still sucks.
No one works a fire like Jim. No one. Seriously, I don't think he will let you.
Being "awakened" at 8a with George's Donuts. Erica, you rock!
The Flaherty and Wallace families. You'll be so sorry you started hanging around us.
The best part of a pig roast is the 12 hours you have cooking the pig the night before. Again, that time did not disappoint.
Staring at the sky at 4:30a when everyone was asleep.
Battling trains, neighborhood booty calls and random snoring for sleep.
Jim's patio loungers.
Pork.
The value of CO2.
Watching Bill roll out the barrel. Literally. Home slice rolled a full beer keg up the driveway. Thought it was going to explode when tapped. Thankfully, CO2 neutralized the keg bomb.
My $9 GWL beer glass.
Jim's Mop Sauce. I would have drank it if no one had stopped me.