The Flaming Pig

“The thing’s on fire, and they had to call the fire department.” These are the words that my wife woke me with at 7:30am. You see, I had spent the last 7 months raising two beautiful pigs; Helen and Penelope were their names. Their purpose was to feed my family and friends. Penelope graduated to the freezer and Helen’s destiny was to feed over 100 people at an epic hog roast—but she and the Almighty had other plans. 

After about 8 hours on the gas-powered hog roaster, a small grease fire emerged. Helen and Penelope’s genetics were half Mangalitsa, also known as the “Kolbe beef of pork.” Fat equals flavor and these pigs have a lot of fat. Right before she went up in flames, Helen’s skin was a delicious looking golden brown, crispy and salty. The meat inside still had a few hours to go but it was near perfection. And then, the grease fire that started small turned into a blaze.

One of my friends generously offered to tend to the roast while the two other watchmen went home to change for Sunday Mass. He did his best to put out the fire with a fire extinguisher, but it was no use. Within minutes, it was so large that the decision was made to call the fire department. It was in the midst of all this that I was shaken awake. The firemen arrived and blasted Helen with a powdery flame retardant. The hog roast was over and all was lost. Or so it seemed. 

We decided to do a small potluck with our neighbors and a few other friends. We had a keg, tons of buns, and we could use the solace of familiar company. Guests started arriving around 3pm with various dishes, a bounce house was inflated, and the atmosphere was generally cheerful and festive in spite of there being no roasted hog to feast on. Things were ok, pretty good even. 

And that’s when my friend Rob, a man of exceptional curiosity and fortitude, said, “You know, I bet there’s still some good meat on that pig.” My first response was, “What about the fire retardant? They said it was toxic.” He said it was no matter. The skin of the hog could be cracked off and we could gradually remove layers of fat until we arrived at good meat. Plus, we could research how bad the flame retardant really was. Rob dove in and not only did we get to taste the pig, we even harvested a loin and seared it on a grill. It was easily the best pork that I’ve ever had and this morning, I fried it up with some scallions, shallots, and onions. 

If we had cooked the hog perfectly and hosted a wonderful feast it would have been very good. However, I trust that how things actually turned out was even better. It was a richer experience that left more to remember and more to learn. We had less meat for our bodies but more food for our souls. 

One of my key takeaways is that when we felt defeated and were in despair, Rob’s willingness to explore what was possible led to a dramatic change in events. 

This week, I invite you to ponder: 

Where in my life do I feel defeated? What would change for me if I showed up with a little more curiosity and fortitude? What would change if I showed up with a lot? 

God bless,
Dan