Brian's Pig

Years and years and years ago, back when Brian was finishing up culinary school, he was given the opportunity to restart a restaurant inside the Lexington hotel in downtown Phoenix. The old restaurant had been closed down and was being refurbished by the owners. Brian was hired as Executive Chef and got to plan everything for the new restaurant, from establishing the menu to selecting the salt shakers (we bought an extra set for ourselves and still use them).

As I was going through old pictures, looking in vain for the soon-to-be-described pig, I found a bunch of pictures he took of their menu items. Honey, I'm hungry. Consider my order placed for the following items:




Thank you.

Anyway, one day Brian was taking a walk through the old restaurant while it was still being stripped down and refurbished. They were tossing a lot of junk, including one huge ceramic pig wearing a chef's outfit. Imagine those plain ceramic figurines you can buy at craft stores to paint, but a couple of feet tall. It was dirty, unpainted, and, well, a pig. Brian instantly fell in love with this pig - don't ask me why - and brought it home with him - don't ask me why.

Despite my dismay at our new "decoration," he made it clear that he loved the pig and intended to keep it. I made it clear it was never going to occupy any area of our home where people might actually see it. It lived on our back porch for many years. Periodically I'd point out the new dirt it had been collecting and suggest we pitch it, but he was adament. The pig stayed.

Can I just interrupt my narrative long enough to say that Brian is so rarely "adament" about anything. He's one of the most easy-going guys I know. What, I ask you, was the deal with this pig???

Anyway, about two years ago, he talked to my mom about having her paint it. They discussed what he wanted done and off she went with the pig. He was nervous. I was relieved. (Afterall, the blasted pig was gone, even if only temporarily.)

Brian waited. And waited. And waited. Every few months he would remind my mom about the pig, and they would talk again about what he wanted. They seemed to be discussing the same things each time, which always made him nervous about whether or not she'd remember exactly how he wanted it.

At last, at long last, just when he was ready to take the pig back unpainted and say "nevermind," she shows up one day and it's done!

Behold the glorious pig:

Check out that tail, hee hee.

If you can't tell, Brian really likes it. Me too. That's something I could actually live with in my kitchen. If only we could figure out where to put it.

Well, maybe in two more years...