We Offered the Firefighters a Pig Sandwich - Saturday, Sep 11, 2010
Up around 10am to the sounds of a house in deep preparations for the pig roast. Last night, Lynn and Jason had skewered the entire pig on a spit, and hooked it up to the rotisserie motor in the hopes of getting another season out of the setup, which was believed to be on its last legs.
This is a long-standing tradition for Jason, with this being the 14th year in a row he has done a pig roast. With Lynn, this is the 4th one now. Jason had finished the deck, so the boat now proudly docked at the end of the new concrete piling and the deck extended all the way up near the shore.
Yesterday, Jason ordered concrete to make a set of terraced steps. He used hay bales to shape the pattern he wanted, and they brought in a concrete crane, the type you would see in a commercial building more than a few stories high, to reach down past the house and down near the deck.
Personally, I think the hay bales would have been fine if they had been wrapped in plastic, but this way, the bales were solidly attached to the concrete and had to be cut away, leaving a rough jagged surface that will erode quickly without cleanup. Jason doesn’t like straight lines and that’s what he got. More power to him.
Sarah, Jason’s daughter, wanted to make a chocolate cake with pink icing, and chocolate chips. Girl really knows how to make a proper dessert! She was trying to draw a pig with the icing, but opted for the word “pig” instead after several attempts at it.
They had accidently grown some type of squash on the property this year from the compost pile, to compliment the accidental tomatoes. The deliberately planted potatoes were considered sub-par for company, so they were relegated to another day. We wanted to grill the squash as a side dish.
We started the BBQ on the back deck. It’s a gas one, but Jason had put *rocks* on the lower deck of it to help it retain more even heat more like a charcoal one. The unfortunate result was that it took half an hour to warm up properly like a charcoal BBQ, and heated even more unevenly than the native natural gas approach.
The squash was sliced into ½” pieces for easier grilling, and basted with a butter and brown sugar glaze. We fussed with it a bit, since we wanted this particular dish to go down well with the existing pig, corn and desserts that we already knew about.
By this point, a group of about 10 kids, ranging in age from about 8-13, converged on us, children of friends. At the time, to my untrained non-parent ear, it sounded very much like several of them were being sliced wide open from stem to stern and messily eaten, but I believe now that was the normal sound of children playing. I wonder what it will be like when those closest to us commit parenthood :).
We tapped the beer keg and set it into the round tote to keep it chilled, and selected the wine, soda and munchies to go with the other food. Ice and more ice into coolers and chillers and more totes. The expected guest list was fuzzy, but 50-75 guests seemed likely. They would come for the pig parts and stay for the fireworks. Yes, we planned to light things on fire already.
About 3pm, with an hour or so to go with the pig roasting, the rotisserie motor failed. No biggie at this point, since the pig is wrapped in a wire mesh and can be turned by hand. We had spent about an hour yesterday looking up super heavy duty commercial rotisserie motors suitable for 150-200 lbs and I sent them both a few links. I think we’ll get them an early Christmas present …
We started cooking with wine. Not in the food, on the lips. I saw Lynn take a few early guests out on the boat in the St Margaret’s Bay harbor. Her dog, Cooper, the prince, needed to be rescued from the boat since for some reason he felt that today was the day he couldn’t jump in the water and swim to shore. Some time was spent piling hay bales on the edge of the dock so folks wouldn’t step off and into the ocean in the dark.
The bulk of the guests started to arrive around 7pm, since that was the appointed time for the pig coming off the spit and fireworks were expected at 8pm. Beer and wine was flowing freely. The pig was lifted onto the cutting table we had brought down to the dock. It reminded me of those all-you-can-eat buffets, someone standing there with a carving knife and fork, you with your bun and condiments, asking for a slice of meat about so thick and receiving satisfaction.
The BBQ was a small wooden structure, with curved sides for air flow control and a little metal chimney at the top. The full rock BBQ was still probably a year away, but this was something Jason hammered together to allow an enclosed heating and roasting system for the pig and other food that needed wood-fired charcoal heat.
The guy slicing had just started to switch from the haunch to the bacon meat, my favorite part of the porker, so I got a nice solid cut for my sandwich, and a fine Caesar salad side. Jason was putting some more of the delicious sweet corn into the pit for roasting. I had just filled my wine glass again and turned around to see 10 foot flames shooting out of the BBQ enclosure!
We immediately shooed children back to the house, most guests drifting quickly up the small hill to the base of the garden with them. One of the nurses called 911. The top of the BBQ enclosure was completely on fire, and it was quickly catching the hay bale straw next to it and the small trees above it. Jason was trying to get better air flow for the fire, more fire and less smoke. Got it!!
We grabbed every available pail and started to run water to the base of the flames. Lynn ran to find the garden hose. She didn’t have a fire extinguisher even half the size we needed. The flames started to boil out of the side of the structure, reaching 15 feet and starting the trees nearby on fire. Someone raked the straw out of the way and we threw the bales on the dock into the water and up the hill.
Quick thinking, and within five minutes it was out, basically the backdrop to a $5 Blair Witch remake, smoke and all. Then the sirens. I could see them coming down the side drive, clearly concerned. The police came first, and then the volunteer fire department lead, since it was called in as a structural fire. So, we had ourselves a genuine 2-alarmer on the dock deck.
The officer comes down to the deck and looks at the roasted pig. He asks “Is this the victim, then”? Gotta love Canadian cops. They rarely come down like a State trooper. It’s more like a Monty Python “what’s all this then?” Meanwhile, Jason pulls out the real victim, 12 ears of sweet corn, cut down in their prime, burnt up to a crisp. By the way, they actually tasted ok between the burnt bits.
The fire department came and took a look, and decided to run a fire hose out to make sure it was hosed down properly. They were pretty good about the whole thing. They let me take a picture and offered to sign autographs later. We offered them pig sandwiches, but they said they had already eaten at the last job, a house fire. I took a few shots of the whole incident, but I missed the flaming BBQ since I was after all busy trying to prevent it from burning everything around it down.
So, no fireworks tonight. The police and fire folks left after about half an hour and some very carefully worded questions to the man of the house. We decided to take the party indoors, since the smell of wet smoky wood and damp smelly steam is not as appealing as it sounds. All party bits were hauled back up the hill to Lynn’s living room.
A few of her guests started a ceilidh (pronounced kay-lee) (yes, really), guitar, drum and spoons. They stuck to mostly modern music but the woman singing had a decent voice and certainly did some local Cape Breton tunes. Roxy, one of Lynn’s friends, took a turn at House of the Rising Sun and later Brown Eyed Girl. On and on late into the night.
This is a long-standing tradition for Jason, with this being the 14th year in a row he has done a pig roast. With Lynn, this is the 4th one now. Jason had finished the deck, so the boat now proudly docked at the end of the new concrete piling and the deck extended all the way up near the shore.
Yesterday, Jason ordered concrete to make a set of terraced steps. He used hay bales to shape the pattern he wanted, and they brought in a concrete crane, the type you would see in a commercial building more than a few stories high, to reach down past the house and down near the deck.
Personally, I think the hay bales would have been fine if they had been wrapped in plastic, but this way, the bales were solidly attached to the concrete and had to be cut away, leaving a rough jagged surface that will erode quickly without cleanup. Jason doesn’t like straight lines and that’s what he got. More power to him.
Sarah, Jason’s daughter, wanted to make a chocolate cake with pink icing, and chocolate chips. Girl really knows how to make a proper dessert! She was trying to draw a pig with the icing, but opted for the word “pig” instead after several attempts at it.
They had accidently grown some type of squash on the property this year from the compost pile, to compliment the accidental tomatoes. The deliberately planted potatoes were considered sub-par for company, so they were relegated to another day. We wanted to grill the squash as a side dish.
We started the BBQ on the back deck. It’s a gas one, but Jason had put *rocks* on the lower deck of it to help it retain more even heat more like a charcoal one. The unfortunate result was that it took half an hour to warm up properly like a charcoal BBQ, and heated even more unevenly than the native natural gas approach.
The squash was sliced into ½” pieces for easier grilling, and basted with a butter and brown sugar glaze. We fussed with it a bit, since we wanted this particular dish to go down well with the existing pig, corn and desserts that we already knew about.
By this point, a group of about 10 kids, ranging in age from about 8-13, converged on us, children of friends. At the time, to my untrained non-parent ear, it sounded very much like several of them were being sliced wide open from stem to stern and messily eaten, but I believe now that was the normal sound of children playing. I wonder what it will be like when those closest to us commit parenthood :).
We tapped the beer keg and set it into the round tote to keep it chilled, and selected the wine, soda and munchies to go with the other food. Ice and more ice into coolers and chillers and more totes. The expected guest list was fuzzy, but 50-75 guests seemed likely. They would come for the pig parts and stay for the fireworks. Yes, we planned to light things on fire already.
About 3pm, with an hour or so to go with the pig roasting, the rotisserie motor failed. No biggie at this point, since the pig is wrapped in a wire mesh and can be turned by hand. We had spent about an hour yesterday looking up super heavy duty commercial rotisserie motors suitable for 150-200 lbs and I sent them both a few links. I think we’ll get them an early Christmas present …
We started cooking with wine. Not in the food, on the lips. I saw Lynn take a few early guests out on the boat in the St Margaret’s Bay harbor. Her dog, Cooper, the prince, needed to be rescued from the boat since for some reason he felt that today was the day he couldn’t jump in the water and swim to shore. Some time was spent piling hay bales on the edge of the dock so folks wouldn’t step off and into the ocean in the dark.
The bulk of the guests started to arrive around 7pm, since that was the appointed time for the pig coming off the spit and fireworks were expected at 8pm. Beer and wine was flowing freely. The pig was lifted onto the cutting table we had brought down to the dock. It reminded me of those all-you-can-eat buffets, someone standing there with a carving knife and fork, you with your bun and condiments, asking for a slice of meat about so thick and receiving satisfaction.
The BBQ was a small wooden structure, with curved sides for air flow control and a little metal chimney at the top. The full rock BBQ was still probably a year away, but this was something Jason hammered together to allow an enclosed heating and roasting system for the pig and other food that needed wood-fired charcoal heat.
The guy slicing had just started to switch from the haunch to the bacon meat, my favorite part of the porker, so I got a nice solid cut for my sandwich, and a fine Caesar salad side. Jason was putting some more of the delicious sweet corn into the pit for roasting. I had just filled my wine glass again and turned around to see 10 foot flames shooting out of the BBQ enclosure!
We immediately shooed children back to the house, most guests drifting quickly up the small hill to the base of the garden with them. One of the nurses called 911. The top of the BBQ enclosure was completely on fire, and it was quickly catching the hay bale straw next to it and the small trees above it. Jason was trying to get better air flow for the fire, more fire and less smoke. Got it!!
We grabbed every available pail and started to run water to the base of the flames. Lynn ran to find the garden hose. She didn’t have a fire extinguisher even half the size we needed. The flames started to boil out of the side of the structure, reaching 15 feet and starting the trees nearby on fire. Someone raked the straw out of the way and we threw the bales on the dock into the water and up the hill.
Quick thinking, and within five minutes it was out, basically the backdrop to a $5 Blair Witch remake, smoke and all. Then the sirens. I could see them coming down the side drive, clearly concerned. The police came first, and then the volunteer fire department lead, since it was called in as a structural fire. So, we had ourselves a genuine 2-alarmer on the dock deck.
The officer comes down to the deck and looks at the roasted pig. He asks “Is this the victim, then”? Gotta love Canadian cops. They rarely come down like a State trooper. It’s more like a Monty Python “what’s all this then?” Meanwhile, Jason pulls out the real victim, 12 ears of sweet corn, cut down in their prime, burnt up to a crisp. By the way, they actually tasted ok between the burnt bits.
The fire department came and took a look, and decided to run a fire hose out to make sure it was hosed down properly. They were pretty good about the whole thing. They let me take a picture and offered to sign autographs later. We offered them pig sandwiches, but they said they had already eaten at the last job, a house fire. I took a few shots of the whole incident, but I missed the flaming BBQ since I was after all busy trying to prevent it from burning everything around it down.
So, no fireworks tonight. The police and fire folks left after about half an hour and some very carefully worded questions to the man of the house. We decided to take the party indoors, since the smell of wet smoky wood and damp smelly steam is not as appealing as it sounds. All party bits were hauled back up the hill to Lynn’s living room.
A few of her guests started a ceilidh (pronounced kay-lee) (yes, really), guitar, drum and spoons. They stuck to mostly modern music but the woman singing had a decent voice and certainly did some local Cape Breton tunes. Roxy, one of Lynn’s friends, took a turn at House of the Rising Sun and later Brown Eyed Girl. On and on late into the night.