September 15, 2009
Last week Keith and I delivered 2 whole hogs to 2 Chicago restaurants. Keith is the map reader as he is the one with a sense of direction. I am the driver as I am the one with the sense of adventure. We found the first establishment with little trouble. The sous chef hopped into the back of our redneck meat delivery truck, our old Chevy with freezer loaded in the truck bed, and in the fashion of Charlotte's Web muttered something positive like "some pig!" Upon this anxiously awaited for approval, Keith pulled out the two hogs heads wrapped individually in clear plastic and set them aside. The chef, an assistant, and Keith pulled the first half hog out and then lowered it onto the chefs shoulders who with no trouble at all, carried it into the restaurants cooler. They repeated this pork ballet with the second half of the hog. Finally Keith handed the chef the pigs head and we headed on down Fulton Market Street on our way to restaurant number two.
Several blocks and three turns later I pulled up to a busy intersection. Suddenly I heard voices yelling at me. Not the ones in my head, different ones this time. I just assumed I cut someone off with my rusty intercity driving skills so I ignored them. The yelling continued. Louder. Reluctantly I looked towards my husbands side of the car and there was a large yellow City of Chicago truck next to us. The drivers window was down and it became obvious this was the source of the yelling. Preparing to take it like a man I told my husband to go ahead and roll down his window.
The yelling became hysterical laughter as the truck's driver kindly pointed out to us that we were in the process of losing our head. Our PIGS HEAD that is. The one Keith left on the back of the trucks tool box. Fortunately, my starts, stops and turns were not enough to dislodge it from its place of honor perched high above the truck bed staring out through wide open eyes at the drivers all around us. Keith quickly jumped out of his seat, thanked the City of Chicago worker, grabbed the head and sheepishly stuffed it inside the freezer with the rest of its portly parts.
Color us red. At least when the truck driver went home to his family that night and they asked him how his day was he would have something different to tell them. "Well you see...there were these goofy pig farmers ..."