Yesterday, when Jon and I were taking a walk, out neighbor ran across the road and handed us a plastic bag filled with frozen pork. “I really appreciate what you did,” he said,” you really helped me out with those pigs.”
Remember a while back when there were three pigs loose in our front yard and Jon, Red and I helped our neighbor heard them back into our neighbor’s pig pen?
None of this ever happened where I grew up in the suburbs of Long Island, NY. But here in Washington County, it’s not unusual for a neighbor to pay you back for letting him hunt on your land or for bringing them Christmas Cookies, or helping round up pigs, with a hunk of venison, fresh fish, or some home grown beef or pork.
So tonight, I’m doing the cooking, because Jon doesn’t eat pork. I’m sure it goes back to his Jewish roots, but he doesn’t seem to be aware of it being a religious thing. He has this idea that all pork is fatty, unclean, and unhealthy. Generally, I don’t eat pork either. I actually can’t remember the last time I had any. But it somehow seems wrong not to eat something (within reason) when your neighbor raised it and presents it as a gift.
And a few minutes ago, Jon came home with a bag of home grown vegetables from another neighbor. So tonight, we feast on our neighbor’s harvest. Jon’s a bit skeptical about the pork loin and I’m skeptical about my ability to cook it, but I’ll make a lot of vegetables and if necessary, I can always pull a few turkey franks out of the freezer.