
The big new exclusive hard-to-find ingredient is hairy pigs! From Hungary, no less! There’s one source in this country, and the New York Times is making it sound like they’re even hotter than Berkshire hogs.
My major reaction to the article was to once again wish I had more opportunity to eat Spanish hams.
Meanwhile, in New Orleans, I encountered yet another head cheese in a place called pig (well, in translation) about which more later.

Faw, that’s some kind of ovine on its way to a costume party.
Is that a third nostril I see on that shaggy swine? Right below his nose bridge?
You know … I think I’ve met the pig in the foreground … several rounds of drinks in a Budapest bar way, way back in my Navy years. I was wingman for our squadron CO. We were making a hop from Beirut to Ramstein, with refueling stops and diplomatic bag delivery to several US embassies along the way, including Budapest. I remember going in the bar over in Pest and, in proper wingman style, I said to my CO, ” I’ll take the fat chick, Skipper.”
As I recall, she smelled like she could use a shower, she had those darm European hairy armpits, and she wolfed down the bar snacks, but this was Eastern Europe in the 70s. I try not to be judgmental, but I gotta admit she was a pretty good smooch.
Skipper and I agreed they didn’t meet our high standards, so we bequeathed the two to a coupla Marine aviators who entered the bar after us and just weren’t having any luck at all. We told the Jarheads, “OK, Gyrenes … we got their motors running and they’re ready for some hot Eagle-Globe-and Anchor action.”
Everyone was all smiles when we left.
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