Now it just wouldn't be Thanksgiving day in the South without some barbecue. So Mike set out to make some so we could show up at the in-laws with something to share.
Mike put that 8 pounds of pork shoulder into the slow cooker surrounded with spice and vinegar overnight. And by morning, not a thing had happened. So he put the spurs to the pot.
Well, the additional heat did the trick, and within a couple of hours we had a house that smelled right proper of cooking pork. And a corner in the kitchen that looked like a small scale re-creation of the Manson murders.
All that lovely pork had released every molecule of its pork fat, which had bubbled up to the top, down the sides and onto the counter. Now Mike is not one who will leave a mess for the other half to clean up. So he mopped up all that fat.
And then, rather than leave these nasty kitchen cloths on the counter, he walked the bundle to the laundry room upstairs. As I was doing laundry already, he handed the cloths to me, and said he had used them to clean up the pork fat.
Now, I never saw the extent of this oil slick. Little did I know that the porky equivalent of the Deepwater Horizon oil spill was contained in that bundle.
He did tell me that I'd want to use a lot of soap on these cloths. But, the message still wasn't getting through to me, so I tossed those puppies right into the wash I was about to start.
Let me give you a minute to fully appreciate the stupidity of that move.
Well, the barbecue downstairs was smelling pretty good by now. And so was the barbecue upstairs.
And strangely enough, so was the shower curtain I had just washed.
And the bathroom rugs. And my underwear.
And this is when the slow porky horror of what I had done finally registered.
And so now, days later, I'm still living in a pork-scented world.
It wouldn't be so bad, except every time I shower, I get hungry.
- Marie Stewart