Idleling with some swine at dawn

Smoke fills my lungs as the I open the lid of the spit. The pig has turned from pale to light brown during the first 2 hours of cooking. The sky starts to light up as the sun makes its first appearance; “I am a barbecue master”, I tell myself, “this swine appears to be the best I’ve ever cooked”. A sun beam hits my face instantly sobering me up ten-fold. Something is missing. I think about all the important things in my life that should be here. It hits me me like that sun beam: some Idle Cellars, for this idle moment. I pop the cork out the bottle of the 2007 Syrah, cheers my dead pig friend in the spit and swig straight from the bottle. The birds are chirping and the pig is sizzling. This pig was roasted in the Mission District of San Francisco for 8 and a half hours. This is my ninth pig roast. I have engineered a spit of cinderblocks and fence posts that one man can put up and take down. It was marinated in a body bag with grey poupon, herbs, apple cidar vinegar and olive oil. During the final hour of cooking, I basted it with a home-made teriyaki sauce. I started cooking the beast at 4:30 in the morning and walked it up to Dolores park on the spit at 1 pm with my fellow skewing partners. We out-sourced the barbecue sauce, coleslaw, and buns–all the fixings needed to make pulled pork sandwiches. On a nice 75 degree day we ate pork in the park, drank wine and chilled out to the good vibes of The Bay.