Meet Lola. Isn’t she sweet? I didn’t just stumble upon this hog, and I certainly didn’t cook it myself. Hula has a friend who BBQ’s and caters. As Daddy says, he’s a doozie. He is colorful, off-color and more generous than Santa Claus. He’d give you the shirt off his back if you needed it and throw in a pair of pants. He’s well known on the regional BBQ circuit and has won several awards. And while I never blog about work, I will say my place of business would have never survived the ice storm without him and his cooking crew. Recently, he cooked a whole hog for a magazine article written about him and invited me over for a couple of pictures. (He also invited me to eat some of that hog, which I did.)
Barbequing is big business in this part of the country. We take it very seriously. There’s Texas BBQ, Kansas City BBQ, Memphis BBQ and Carolina BBQ, but the folks in western Kentucky believe theirs is the best, and I’m not one to argue. Next month, hundreds of cookers will descend upon our fair city for a giant BBQ festival that will cover our downtown area with the heavenly scent of roasted pork for three full days and nights, and one of the competition categories will be whole hog. There will be a whole bunch of Lola’s on the pit that weekend.
The hogs are slaughtered, dressed and cleaned by Mennonites who live about an hour from here. Then the cookers season them, run wires in the ears and tail so they don’t collapse, cover the tail and ears to keep them from burning and put them on to slow roast for about 24 hours. When they’re done, they’re propped up, dolled up and prepped for viewing (kind of like at the funeral home). Eventually, they're chopped up and all of that ham and loin meat is mixed up for a wonderful, different barbeque taste. While some folks might be grossed out by Lola, I think she’s a juicy babe. Just don’t poke her in the ribs. You really don’t want to know what happens.
Barbequing is big business in this part of the country. We take it very seriously. There’s Texas BBQ, Kansas City BBQ, Memphis BBQ and Carolina BBQ, but the folks in western Kentucky believe theirs is the best, and I’m not one to argue. Next month, hundreds of cookers will descend upon our fair city for a giant BBQ festival that will cover our downtown area with the heavenly scent of roasted pork for three full days and nights, and one of the competition categories will be whole hog. There will be a whole bunch of Lola’s on the pit that weekend.
The hogs are slaughtered, dressed and cleaned by Mennonites who live about an hour from here. Then the cookers season them, run wires in the ears and tail so they don’t collapse, cover the tail and ears to keep them from burning and put them on to slow roast for about 24 hours. When they’re done, they’re propped up, dolled up and prepped for viewing (kind of like at the funeral home). Eventually, they're chopped up and all of that ham and loin meat is mixed up for a wonderful, different barbeque taste. While some folks might be grossed out by Lola, I think she’s a juicy babe. Just don’t poke her in the ribs. You really don’t want to know what happens.
