La Cochonette, London: Back in body from Bangkok. Brain was last encountered on a deserted beach somewhere in coastal Thailand nearly two weeks ago. As soon as cerebral cortex function is restored to semi-abnormal you can expect original content from The Pig herself. Today however, we go to a perfectly porcine guest post by:
I can’t remember a time when I didn’t love salami. Ever since I was a little cocktail weiner I’ve craved for cured meats and cold cuts – genoa salami, chorizo, pepperoni, saucisson, bologna… the list goes on. I’ll eat it with cream cheese, on a sandwich, with olives or for the purists, right out of the Ziploc bag tucked away peacefully unadorned in the second drawer of the fridge.
But really, at the end of the day, it’s a good old hotdog that wins the Cased Meat Challenge for me hands down, every time. The best ones are enjoyed after downhill skiing, watching a Dolphins game in Miami or in transit at the airport. But truly no hotdog can top the coveted stolen or free frank. Let me explain.
Once upon a time, my Dad and I would stop in at the 7-11 down the road and ask for a couple of specimens from the weird-greasy-glassed-spinny-rolling-hotdog-holder-thingy.
We would add our condiments then casually cruise and peruse the store, pretending to actually be interested in 7-11’s limited inventory and while doing this we would of course eat our hotdogs. The final step was the most important. Find another food item to purchase and also get a Slurpee. The cashier would always forget they got a hotdog out for us 10 minutes earlier and we’d be on our way. CHA-CHING! BEST. SCAM. EVER.
I also scored a free hotdog at our local Bank of America branch one time but that’s a different story. Let’s just say it was the greatest day of my life. I’m pretty sure I opened a college trust fund for an orphan in India in order to get one, but damn it was worth it.