Here in the Dominican Republic the foods are like a little piece of heaven. One of the most memorable experiences driving out to Jarabaco in central DR was a roadside stop. You can travel all over the world and find eats of every shape or form. Driving through the city and down the highway though mounting construction is challenging at the best of times. Construction slows things down a whole lot more. This hot wasteful time leads to HUNGER! Dominicans will pretty much stop anywhere for a bite to eat.
I mentioned in a previous article that much of the conditions in this country are not sanitary. This roadside stop was one and the same. I’m not sure where or how they do their cooking, and frankly I don’t care. Not when it comes to this delicacy. To me it’s a delicacy, to locals it’s just local fare. Yes, the roast pig, the porker, the oinker, the squealer, the … best damn thing ever! There are many wonderful foods in this country that have so much flavour. But the PIG, that is sacred.
This dinner, I use the term loosely, was reminiscent of eating in a barn. They were well equipped with paper plates and napkins. The server stood by her cauldron and shooed the flies away. Once you had your meal, you were on your own. Eat at your own risk, shoo your own flies.
Being overwhelmed with the product at hand, the offered starch, yucca, stayed in the pot. I am a complete carnivore. The ambiance was that of quiet serious eating. No one person spoke not made a sound. It was sooooo tasty. It was as though ritual decreed that the serenity not be disturbed. How many pigs have lost their lives for this lowly food stop near the bridge?
Traffic whizzed by, more cars stopped for Mr. Pig, and the cycle continued. Satiated and back in the car we were off. I longingly gazed at the rear, wondering when Mr. Pig would find his way home, to my home. Wee wee wee all the way.
Listen to the palms…
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