The Spit Roast… hehem

'nuff said
’nuff said


There are places I could go with a title like that. Places some people might call their happy place while others would call them dark, sinister places. Places that I will be steering clear of today. A moment of compassion? Maybe. Still got a bit of a fuzzy head and really can’t put in the required effort? Most likely. What the hell am I talking about? Read on my friend, read on…

I need help. My brain is really effing sore. I need a bedpan, a bucket, a brush, and a real effing doctor… and I need to try to keep it together long enough to tell this story.
Consuming alcohol like a sixteen year old wasn’t so painful as a sixteen year old. But now, 20 years on and I still have the odd relapse and that shit just doesn’t feel to cool the next day. I mean sure I looked cool at the time, no one would dispute that; I was tearing up the dance floor with John Travolta flair. The witty and absolutely hilarious conversation flowed from my mouth like tears from apprentice’s eyes. Only the bride herself possibly outshined my radiance… And maybe the groom… My wife… The rest of the crowd… Someone’s great Aunty… Fuck it. Lets face it. I probably may not have been the classiest, funniest, best dancer there. But my head told me I had pretty good time.
Disclaimer; there may possibly be people (or monsters or aliens or puppy dogs) out there that are going be thinking, or maybe they’ll even write in, that booze is the devil and you don’t need to drink to be cool etc. etc. Yeah yeah, it’s all been said before. We all know. It is pretty funny from time to time though…

Dan and Ainsley got married...
Dan and Ainsley got married…

And the culprit? What made me do it? The devil? No. This time it was a wedding that is responsible for my sore brain. That’s right, a wedding. It certainly couldn’t be my fault. No no no, that would be way too easy.
Aside from purchasing myself a ripper of a hangover, another thing I did at this wedding was spit roast a little piggy.

My roll
My roll

I ate my pork straight from every different part of the pig as Queenie and I carved it for the masses, which I do declare is a bloody fine way to consume our porcine friend. Also, just to keep the social aspect going on, I had some in a roll with apple and fennel slaw, and chimmichurri sauce. Dericious. There was also plenty of other good shit to eat, but it was a porky dinner for me this day.

The pig resting up before his big moment. Rubbed down with a heap of rosemary, thyme, garlic, salt and pepper all smashed up to make a piggy version of edible body soap… 
The pig's friends
The pig’s friends
All blitzed up
All blitzed up
Mr Awesome, straight from the tanning salon
Our new friend, affectionately known as Mr Awesome, straight from the tanning salon
Queenie carves up our new friend who was affectionately known as Mr Awesome
Queenie carves up Mr Awesome

That’s me done…

10 responses to “The Spit Roast… hehem”

  1. I’ve always loved pigs: the shape of them, the look of them, and the fact that they fit so snuggly in a crusty bread roll…pork is my favourite food group! 🙂

    1. But the question still remains… Food group or religion???

    1. I thought you might like this one…

  2. Just looking at the pics makes my stomach growl!

    1. The pics still have the same effect on me and I’ve had more then my share of Mr Awesome this week!!!

  3. Hell yes! I’m counting down the days till I do this exact awesomeness

    1. They are good times my friend. Truly awesome indeed! I look forward to seeing the results.

  4. […] consumption and cooking kick arse food. That’s right I called in the big guns Grazza from Food is the Best Shit ever who came back with words of wisdom, “a shit load of garlic, rosemary, thyme and […]

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