So the pork booty STILL needs some tweaking. It was GOOD, but not the GOOD I want to post for you all. It needed some more smoke and some more sweet and some more char. It IS however being a very good piggy and being DELICIOUS in all leftovers I can think of. It was a biiiig pork booty.
In other news PLANT LIVES! Still! I am amazed. We shall see for how long, but it has been going for two weeks or so now. It is beating all previous records by a week and six days.
I also fell into a sale at ABE Books and bought a huge mess of new novels. Six of them being of the Sweet Potato Queen variety. Have you read these? Written by a trash with class southern belle, they are funny and very satisfying to anyone looking for some sarcasm with their sweet. I have read three of them so far, and am in the middle of two more. Her writing is accessible even when she gets unbelievably southern (she is from Jackson, Mississippi after all) and she grows with her books. I have never read an author who devoted a huge section of a chapter to eating their words from other, earlier books. I have to say I like it a lot.
Not all of it rings for me as I am, without a doubt, a bloody Yank with SERIOUS old world Irish/Scottish leanings but the SASS. The ATTITUDE. The absolute GOBS of CONFIDENCE are so amazing I want to roll on her like a dog just to get a bit of that smell on me. Also, her recipes are seriously fucking with the Bat Fit Arse challenge. I figure what she is doing for my Bat Fit Mind challenge are A-OK and balance it all out. Seriously, I made some cornbread out of her book that I ate it like CAKE and it tasted like the best damn Tamales EVER. I made it for a friend dealing with deep personal trauma (you spell healing F-O-O-D in my house and you are more than welcome to come share my home and my trashy TV while I stuff you so full you have no room for feelings anymore) and she almost did not receive it. It was that good. I almost made the “you gotta fly TO ME” rule for it. But I love my Heart Sister way too much to do that to her.
Jill Conner Brown writes just like the Fox says I write, just like she is talking to you. Because, DUH, WE ARE. You are our invisible buddies and we are having a chit chat through this magic box. Or you are over hearing (as it were) and deciding we are crap and TEH GAI and whatever other trolly things and then leaving anonymous comments about us spoiling your good time. Either way, we are TALKING and you are listening if you are here. I love this. I dislike authors who write as though their memoir is TOO SERIOUS and talk around you rather than with you. The only place that has is for story telling and it had better include wizards and magic and zombies and many, many swords and loin clothes. ME-OW.
Go do yourselves a favour and pick up a Sweet Potato Queens book. It will do wonders for your outlook and make you, if only for a teeeeeny amount of time, just a little southern yourself. Kind of like a rub does for a hunk of meat.