[Sca-cooks] Feast Horror Stories

[Rob Downie]

We had similar incident at a camping event we traditionally hold every september
long weekend.  Here follows the autocrat's account she submitted to our Chronicle
(well, at least she can laugh at herself):

Well, it went like this...

 Once upon a long-ago time, oh, 'round about the late 5th C. in Britain, a great
boar hunt took place.  After
 much bashing about in the bushes, fussing and whooping, the victorious warriors
dragged back a pig, handed
 it over to the women and said, "Cook it!".

 Terrific.  It was bigger'n us.  It was icky.  The spit wouldn't go into it
properly and its tongue fell out on the
 back steps.  (Yeccccchhhh!)  A coupla the warriors were yanked back into the
kitchen and told to hie the pig
 out to the fire-pit.  They said, "But...".  The cook said, "No hie, no eat".
They hied.  With speed.

 Meanwhile, the sun was climbing ever higher...well...it would have if all those
clouds hadn't been blocking it. It
 spat. The pig wouldn't set up on the turn thingy properly.  It rained.  The pig
was ready to go.  It misted.
 Trusty warriors were selected to guard the da..er...precious pig.  They were to
turn it and baste it and turn it
 and turn it and drink...TURN it...

 It rained some more.  It rained on the warriors.  They sogged.  It rained on the
pig.  It smoked.  It rained on the
 cooking pig fat.  It flared.  The bloody pig caught fire.  Ohmygodsanybodysgods!
Whadda we do now??!

 The Flaming Pig Dance, that's what.  A warrior leapt to his feet, snatched up a
shovel and hopped up and
 down, all the time whaling on that flaming pig.  Somebody yelled, "Throw sand on
it!", thinking himself a wit.
 He was half right.  The pig went out.  We lubricated the wild-eyed warrior.  He
was hot, but that was okay
  'cause the rain cooled him down.

The pig cooked on but wasn't done -- not in any sense of the word.  After biding
its time, sulking away, it set
up the next vic..er...warrior.  Shift had changed and a new suck...er...guard was
minding the pig (he probably
minded the rain, too, but we don't mind that.)  It stopped raining.  The pig got
crispy.  The fat got bubbly.  It
rained.  The fat flared and...well, we've been there before, right?

Figuring he knew the steps, the warrior grabbed his shovel and danced around that
flaming pig, whomping
away.  Pig fought back.  POP.  Pig wasn't the only thing on fire.  Poor ol'
warrior set a new fashion with that
short-in-front hairstyle.  Don't think the singed brows are gonna catch on with
the guys, though.  Battle wound
on the forehead was pretty impressive -- 'bout second degree, I'd say.

Rain died off.  Pig settled down. So did the warrior.  Scotch helped -- medicinal,
of course.  We watched and
watched and watched.  The pig wouldn't play.  We wandered off. The dance was ended
and the pig was tasty.

The Seneschal (spoilsport!) recommended that the Flaming Pig Dance not be added to
the Baronial
 collection.  "After all", she sniffed, "We'll Have None of That Here!"

By Sian verch Gruffydd, Autocrat, co-cook (and Seneschal)

Baroness Faerisa Gwynarden
Castel Rouge


DeeWolff at aol.com wrote:

> One of the first feasts I went to as a newbie I watched a kitchen catch fire.
>
> They were serving Goose. They were several on a spit. The cook wanted to
> spped them up , so instead of cooking them in the oven, He spitted them over
> a fire.
>
> Grease drains........into fire.   POOF!!  Of course, someone threw water on
> it as well....
>
> eventually, they were removed from the fire  and put out
>
> and then they were served....charred outside, undercooked inside......Yummy :(
>
> The lesson I learned from this (before I even became an SCA cook) is. Don't
> pretend you know what your doing if you really don't. AND   NEVER serve your
> mistakes to the populace.
>
> Andrea
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