There have been many things in my life that I have looked forward to, and not believed that I would receive
them ever. The moment I knew I was actually going to have a pig roast, my life took on new meaning and
happiness. To know that a pig had given its life for me. That this pig had been born, only about half a year before,
and had spent every day of its life eating food and rolling in mud, just so that it would be tasty. That pig from the
Scanga Meat Company was one of the greatest gifts I've ever received.
SCANGA MEAT CO.
WHOLESALERS OF CORN-FED BEEF,
PORK, SEAFOOD and CHEESES
FULL SERVICE RETAIL OUTLET
PROCESSING and CURING
They came in a great truck and rolled into Gunnison several days before the pig roast. With love and
caring they handed the pig over to Linda, she took it and put it in the car. About 150 pounds of love and caring,
wrapped neatly in a plastic coating. Skinned and neatly wrapped.
This pig was to be a true gift.
The Scanga man, named Terry was all business.
"Here's the pig. Take it," he said, not much looking around for a good time, just looking to see the pig
properly delivered. What he didn't realize that seeing the pig properly delivered was one of the greatest things in our
"Thank you so wonderfully," said Linda. She went on to explain the excitement of the pigroast, and how
my life was being given meaning by it. The Scanga man was puzzled for a minute by this excitement, but then he
realized it was directed at him and his pig. He jollied right up after that.
He told tales, of glorious pigroasts of the past. The thrill of the meat sizzling on the grill. The time he
burnt a pig down to bones and had to sneak away and get a bunch of hamburgers and slip them in at a fancy party.
Pig had meaning. Roasted meat.
After the hour drive from Gunnison back to Lake City, the pig was finally driven to Camp Red Cloud and
unloaded. I offered to help, and they requested I provide
morale support. I cheered them on as they lugged the beast into the building, where it was to be locked away in the
freezer for the next day or two, until it was cooked.
The idea was to put a nuclear device on the door of the mammoth refridgerator so that anyone who came by
with intentions of stealing the pig would be blown into very small pieces, and the pig would be roasted. Perhaps the
kitchen would no longer be useful except in parts where they landed fifty miles or so away, but what a way to roast a
pig. The meat would be glowing with the succulent vibrations of the nuclear blast.
Unfortunately with the recent realization of the
health hazards that nuclear devices tend to have on the campers at Camp Red Cloud they discontinued use of them
for meat processing, and have settled on the traditional pig roasters. The thing looks a lot like a nuclear device,
however tends not to cause any sort of damage to people. Not the same kind of damage anyway, though if say you
were put into this pig roaster for a few days you'd be just as dead as if you had been blown up. And even if the
roaster fell over on you, you'd be in a lot of trouble too. Watch out. Professional Pig Roasting is a serious thing.