I can smell the chorizo on El Jefe’s grill now, mmmmm, the splattering explosions of gristle, shoulder, and maybe snout from an animal whose sacrifices gives those of us who partake one more day to celebrate the miracle dance of hot coals and meat parts, namely piggy.

It was the noble pig that kept my family alive during WWII in Germany. Yes, we were on the other side, but when it came to pork we were on the winning side, the inside that is. Ours was a farming family that lived more often than not during allied bombings in the basement of a small house on edges of a village called Wolfskelen.

It was there where my grandfather played violin, made custom furniture, and ultimately was conscripted by the Wehrmacht. He was not a good soldier I learned recently as he became a cross-dressing actor and some-time tank driver during some very nasty battles that cost too many lives on both sides. The shame of war but the necessity of resolution.

Anyway, it was pork that saved our family as my grandmother hid most of the animals under a dugout pen covered with branches and loose grasses whose surface was like that of the natural landscape. This was hard work for sure as the piggies needed extra large pens with ramps so they could be fed and walked and cuddled and butchered. But again, it was the noble pig that saved our bloodline (mmmm, bloodwurst).

Pork is largely an international source of protein. Only in Arab nations and in Israel do they consider the pig “pork-sona non grata”, the reason? Neither culture eats scavengers, a holdover from a different time I would venture?

In Germany today the piggy is considered good luck, extremely good luck, during Christmas people will offer marzipan pigs to children and tell them they have “schwine”, which can be likened to a blessing of good luck.

So Senior Jefe, as you turn those sausages and take in their sumptuous fumes of air borne fat, heft a stein and say, “we are a blessed people today for the pig has saved us again.”

What has this to do with Colorado Winters in August? Well, look at it this way, both El Jefe and I are only wearing clothes because it’s the law rather over that of weather/climate.

So, when in Texas Rene, lift a tofu dog to the sky and ask, “though I don’t and won’t eat meat, I have to concede that meat has saved lives, bless you great spirit of the loin (mmmm)!”

All the best from Enrico as he has struck again!

*not a paid endorsement from the international council of pork products or MSMC (mechanically seperated meat consortium).