suckling pig feast at back forty.
This was at the end of the meal, right before Mike blew out the candles on his birthday fruit crisp. I’m giving advance warning to anyone who might not want to see pig photos to steer away now. Here’s a picture of a couple of random drinks as a visual buffer.
Ok, carnivores, here you go. Complete and utter porcine madness at Mike’s birthday dinner a couple of weeks ago. (And despite using 800 speed film pushed one stop, many of the photos still turned out a bit dark, which might be for the best.) The suckling pig, cut into manageable serving portions:
And, of course, this:
(I’m normally quite opposed to using flash in my photographs, but I happened to snap this pic as Mike was using the flash on his camera. In case anyone needed to see the pig’s head in … er …. better light.) There’s a photograph floating around on flickr (not on my flickr page) of me and the pig head in terrible embrace. It was that kind of night. I’d show you more, but I suspect I would offend even some of the carnivores here. In any event, lest we forget the reason for fourteen people converging on a farm table in the East Village, here’s one last photo, of dear Mike blowing out the candles. It was a very lovely, mildly gruesome, absolutely perfect night.