Brent killed a pig and we had a black-out. Totally unrelated, but all signs point to “fun.” I can remember as a kid growing up in San Diego when the lights would go out. It was no doubt in the summer when people and their air conditioners were reunited at last. My mom and dad would crack open some wine and bring out the cards. It was all crazy and magical when we had no electricity. After an hour or so, the lights would come back on and we’d shut everything off as though it never happened. Blackouts are fun and clearly memorable. Lucy still talks about “what a weird night” we had last Sunday when the lights went out in Southwest France. We explained to the children that when this house was built, they didn’t have lights. This is how dark it got when the sun went down. Through the candlelight, you could see their large eyes trying to understand a life without electricity.
… and in other news, with all the pig parts we’ve acquired, we now have pots and pots of boudin noir and country paste. Brent helped kill the pig and prepared the bits and pieces for the Pâté de campagne. Included in our pig purchase, we procured Coppa. This Coppa is fresh and needs to be hung on a strong nail in a cool place for a few months. It just so happens we have that cool place and that nail that surely helped many other Coppas of the past attain their Coppa-cabana-dom. It was suggested that I get a “ham sack” (or Sac a Jambon for an easy French feeling) to ward off any flies and the rest while it hangs there all yummy-like. So there it rests drying out for a culinary yumdom of next.