Headin' west to get my whole-hog fix ...
EDITOR"S NOTE: OK, I'm cheating in that this is really a column I wrote about a year ago for The (Maryville, TN) Daily Times ... but don't stop reading. It's timely in that this is the day I head out to my annual whole-hog cookout at the Wood family gathering in West Tennessee. I gotta warn ya: This isn't for the squeamish.
Hello, my name is Buzz, and I'm a hog-aholic.
I've always loved pork barbecue, and have talked up places like Corky's and Rendezvous in Memphis, Calhoun's and Buddy's in Knoxville, and usually speak of my first taste as a kid at Bill's Barbecue in Richmond, Va.
Places like that were the baseline for me -- that is, until my good friends Dr. Lytle and Susan Brown of Knoxville introduced me to whole-hog barbecue in 1998. Now, I'm obsessed with barbecue -- particularly whole-hog barbecue and ribs. Even on vacations, if I see a sign that says, "World Famous BBQ!" I'll try to cajole my wife, Donna, into stopping.
"Hmmm ... Big Dawg's BBQ. Wonder if it's any good?"
We'll drive a few more miles, and then another sign will move toward us: "Big Dawg's BBQ! Best in Georgia. 3 miles. Exit 38"
"Wonder what Georgia-style barbecue tastes like? Think it's minced, or pulled?" I'll hint. "I'm a little hungry, how about you?"
Sooner or later, she gives in, because she knows I have to stop.
I generally issue a challenge to the waitress. "Is this place supposed to have good barbecue?" I do this because I know it'll be a matter of pride for the cook to serve up the choice pieces, and plenty of 'em.
Sometimes I'll line up the proprietor's sauces, tasting each with a cracker, light-bread, or even a spoon, swishing my mouth with water, like some sort of connoisseur passing judgment on a fine wine.
"Mustard sauce, huh? Whatta sin. ... Too much tomato and sugar in that one. ... Oh, yeahhhh. Carolina red. Nice vinegar-based sauce. ... They call that hot? ... Whew!! Makes you wanna smack yo mamma, that one does!"
And then, no matter how impressed I am, I'll allow as how none could match Donna's secret dippin' sauce, nor Joy Wood's West Tennessee special.
After all, it's the truth.
My addiction to whole-hog barbecue started with a simple invitation for my family to join the Browns at the home of Susan's parents, Elston and Joy Wood. They live about five hours west of Knoxville. (You know, near Blue Goose.) Lytle and Susan described it as an annual Fourth of July picnic, where friends and neighbors gathered to celebrate Independence Day.
Just a private little affair ... with about 100-plus people feeding on three whole hogs and countless covered-dish delicacies: cole slaw, potato salad, banana pudding, ice-box pickles, homemade ice cream, stack cakes and other such Southern dishes.
It's been going on for decades.
But the Wood Family Barbecue is not just about the end result, it's more about the process.
Here's what you need ... well, mostly:
WHOLE-HOG BBQ
Preparation
3 live hogs, kept in trailer overnight with running water to keep 'em cool.
1 .22-caliber rifle
1 box of .22-caliber longs (you should only need three, but don't use .22 shorts as they only bounce off the hog's skull and make him mad)
1 stickin' knife
1 cuttin' knife
3 or 4 scrapin' knives
1 scalding vat with two lengths of chain
1 singletree with a length of chain, connected to the lift pole on a tractor
3 old bedsheets to cover dressed hogs
Gather up about seven men, one of whom has to be a good shot and able to move quickly on his feet, while another has to be a good cutter. Give the shooter a .22-caliber rifle while a helper coaxes one of the trailered hogs into position, so the shooter can get off a shot. The shooter then jumps into the trailer, with stickin' knife in hand, and wrestles the hog awhile before doing the deed. Drag that hog out of the trailer and hook him up to the singletree, then haul him over to the scalding vat. Four men -- two on each side of the vat -- use the chains draped across the vat to lower the hog into the water. Roll him over once or twice, then lift him out. Scrape the hog, then use the tractor and singletree to lift him into dressing position. The cutter then dresses the hog out before putting him on the flatbed trailer, covering him with a sheet and hosing him down for good measure. While the scalding is taking place on the first hog, the shooter and a helper go through the trailer process again. By now, the other two hogs are getting wise and hidin' in corners with their backs to the shooter, which makes the process a little trickier each time around.
Cooking
2 gallons of cookin' sauce
1 box of salt
Cooking pit with three racks
1 long-handled shovel
1 barrel to burn wood, making hickory coals
A full load of hickory
Have someone start a hickory fire in the barrel to make hot coals while the hogs are being prepped,. Lay one dressed hog on each of the three racks. Use the long-handled shovel to place coals under the pigs. Cover and cook 24 hours, adding more coals and turning as you feel led. Tell tall stories so as not to fall asleep and burn hogs.
Of course, I turned 50 years old on July 2 and my memory's not what it used to be, so I might have left something out. But you'll figure it out ...
This addiction has a cost, mind you, and it has a tendency to spread.
For instance, I haven't spent a birthday with my momma since the addiction set in, having been in West Tennessee for the past nine Fourth of July weekends.
And every once in a while the sermon title on Green Meadow UMC's sign is replaced with something like, "Greenway Music and BBQ Festival."
After all, burnt offerings didn't really end with the Old Testament, did they?
Hello, my name is Buzz, and I'm a hog-aholic.
I've always loved pork barbecue, and have talked up places like Corky's and Rendezvous in Memphis, Calhoun's and Buddy's in Knoxville, and usually speak of my first taste as a kid at Bill's Barbecue in Richmond, Va.
Places like that were the baseline for me -- that is, until my good friends Dr. Lytle and Susan Brown of Knoxville introduced me to whole-hog barbecue in 1998. Now, I'm obsessed with barbecue -- particularly whole-hog barbecue and ribs. Even on vacations, if I see a sign that says, "World Famous BBQ!" I'll try to cajole my wife, Donna, into stopping.
"Hmmm ... Big Dawg's BBQ. Wonder if it's any good?"
We'll drive a few more miles, and then another sign will move toward us: "Big Dawg's BBQ! Best in Georgia. 3 miles. Exit 38"
"Wonder what Georgia-style barbecue tastes like? Think it's minced, or pulled?" I'll hint. "I'm a little hungry, how about you?"
Sooner or later, she gives in, because she knows I have to stop.
I generally issue a challenge to the waitress. "Is this place supposed to have good barbecue?" I do this because I know it'll be a matter of pride for the cook to serve up the choice pieces, and plenty of 'em.
Sometimes I'll line up the proprietor's sauces, tasting each with a cracker, light-bread, or even a spoon, swishing my mouth with water, like some sort of connoisseur passing judgment on a fine wine.
"Mustard sauce, huh? Whatta sin. ... Too much tomato and sugar in that one. ... Oh, yeahhhh. Carolina red. Nice vinegar-based sauce. ... They call that hot? ... Whew!! Makes you wanna smack yo mamma, that one does!"
And then, no matter how impressed I am, I'll allow as how none could match Donna's secret dippin' sauce, nor Joy Wood's West Tennessee special.
After all, it's the truth.
My addiction to whole-hog barbecue started with a simple invitation for my family to join the Browns at the home of Susan's parents, Elston and Joy Wood. They live about five hours west of Knoxville. (You know, near Blue Goose.) Lytle and Susan described it as an annual Fourth of July picnic, where friends and neighbors gathered to celebrate Independence Day.
Just a private little affair ... with about 100-plus people feeding on three whole hogs and countless covered-dish delicacies: cole slaw, potato salad, banana pudding, ice-box pickles, homemade ice cream, stack cakes and other such Southern dishes.
It's been going on for decades.
But the Wood Family Barbecue is not just about the end result, it's more about the process.
Here's what you need ... well, mostly:
WHOLE-HOG BBQ
Preparation
3 live hogs, kept in trailer overnight with running water to keep 'em cool.
1 .22-caliber rifle
1 box of .22-caliber longs (you should only need three, but don't use .22 shorts as they only bounce off the hog's skull and make him mad)
1 stickin' knife
1 cuttin' knife
3 or 4 scrapin' knives
1 scalding vat with two lengths of chain
1 singletree with a length of chain, connected to the lift pole on a tractor
3 old bedsheets to cover dressed hogs
Gather up about seven men, one of whom has to be a good shot and able to move quickly on his feet, while another has to be a good cutter. Give the shooter a .22-caliber rifle while a helper coaxes one of the trailered hogs into position, so the shooter can get off a shot. The shooter then jumps into the trailer, with stickin' knife in hand, and wrestles the hog awhile before doing the deed. Drag that hog out of the trailer and hook him up to the singletree, then haul him over to the scalding vat. Four men -- two on each side of the vat -- use the chains draped across the vat to lower the hog into the water. Roll him over once or twice, then lift him out. Scrape the hog, then use the tractor and singletree to lift him into dressing position. The cutter then dresses the hog out before putting him on the flatbed trailer, covering him with a sheet and hosing him down for good measure. While the scalding is taking place on the first hog, the shooter and a helper go through the trailer process again. By now, the other two hogs are getting wise and hidin' in corners with their backs to the shooter, which makes the process a little trickier each time around.
Cooking
2 gallons of cookin' sauce
1 box of salt
Cooking pit with three racks
1 long-handled shovel
1 barrel to burn wood, making hickory coals
A full load of hickory
Have someone start a hickory fire in the barrel to make hot coals while the hogs are being prepped,. Lay one dressed hog on each of the three racks. Use the long-handled shovel to place coals under the pigs. Cover and cook 24 hours, adding more coals and turning as you feel led. Tell tall stories so as not to fall asleep and burn hogs.
Of course, I turned 50 years old on July 2 and my memory's not what it used to be, so I might have left something out. But you'll figure it out ...
This addiction has a cost, mind you, and it has a tendency to spread.
For instance, I haven't spent a birthday with my momma since the addiction set in, having been in West Tennessee for the past nine Fourth of July weekends.
And every once in a while the sermon title on Green Meadow UMC's sign is replaced with something like, "Greenway Music and BBQ Festival."
After all, burnt offerings didn't really end with the Old Testament, did they?
posted by Pastor Buzz at 7:43 AM
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