Brooklyn cow sighting

It's been a while since I've noted our peculiar American habit of using figures of animals to advertising the consumption of that very animal's flesh - but I've been saving this one since spring. This cow is in front of a hamburger joint in Park Slope, Brooklyn. Poor thing. No grass to munch on.

Barbecue Pig sighting!

This barbecue pig is in Chapel Hill, North Carolina, at Crook's Corner Cafe & Bar. OK, it's not a cow, but this is Carolina-style barbecue.

Barbecue Animals

While exploring Los Angeles, we discovered a mural that explores the relationship between human beings and the animals we kill for food.

Full disclaimer - I am an omnivore, and have no problem eating meat. But when meat is sold for humans to eat, the marketing methods can sometimes result in concepts and images that are really bizarre.

Here, at a carniceria in South Central Los Angeles, a mural by the front door shows the balance of human vs. animal power turned on its head. We all know that human beings raise animals and butcher them for their meat. Yet here, a David-like butcher is confronted by an overpowering Goliath-like menacing pig. As if the pigs had the upper hand in this relationship. There are even beads of sweat springing off the little butcher's forehead.

The pig towers over the little butcher, frowning, with beetled brows and a twisted mouth sort of like this guy.

Pretty scarey. The picture is full of tension, suspense. Who will save the little butcher from the looming monster? Yet the plucky butcher has his secret weapon, the cleaver, hidden behind his back.

Drive around the corner, and you see the denouement of the drama. The butcher has prevailed. But - wait - was this a combat, or a taming? He holds the pig gently, like the shepherd holds a lamb, over his shoulders. He's smiling. The pig looks pretty content too. Actually, now he looks a little like this guy.

What happens to the subdued and happy pig? Will it be chopped into...well...chops? Or have the two adversaries achieved detente? Have they rethought their relationship in the food chain? Will they now peacefully co-exist? Has this carniceria become a vegan establishment?

No, sorry - inside the store there's a fully stocked case of ribs and loin roasts and stew meat. It's clear that some pigs are going to be butchered - will it be this particular pig? or other, less fortunate pigs?

What is the relationship here? Has the butcher lured the once-mighty pig, only to betray him? Or has this pig successfully wooed his adversary, and will now become the self-hating porcine betrayer of fellow pigs?

What, indeed?

Barbecue animals

I've been collecting pictures of Barbecue Cows - statues of cows used to advertise Barbecue joints. But as one correspondent has pointed out, in many places, Barbecue is Pig, not Cow. So here is a Barbecue Pig.

And an unusual Barbecue Pig he is. He's wearing a suit and tie. His expression isn't jolly, like many Barbecue Pigs, who, strangely, look delighted at the contemplation of being eaten for your meal. No, this is a Corporate Pig, a Barbecue Mogul of Commerce, one who is intent on outlining the cost/benefit analysis of your baked beans.

His massive porcine head emphasizes the weight behind his power, and the turned-down points of his ears seem to express a lack of openness, a strength of purpose, and a firm - dare I say, bullish - stubbornness. This is not a pig who might be swayed, or moved, or turned from his purpose.

What is his goal? His business plan? To convince you to eat delectable smoked and sauced meats on a charming local street in an artsy seaside town?

Odd to think that he would hang out on Abbot Kinney Boulevard in Venice, CA. What might this indicate about the economics of hipster popular culture?

California Barbecue Cow

We have Barbecue Cows in California, too! This cow is on Ventura Boulevard, in Woodland Hills, at My Brother's Barbecue.

Send me your Barbecue Cows, if you got 'em!

Another Contender

The other Barbecue joint in Mom's home town. This one is on the south side of town. Across the street from a Baptist Church.

They've got a cow up there, too.

Texas Barbecue

This place out on the Loop road in my Mom's East Texas town has been selling barbecue since 1959. Mom and Dad moved down here in 1989, and this became their favorite barbecue joint.

I never really knew its name before, because my mom and dad always called it "The Good Ole Boy's." Back when my dad was alive, each time we visited, he'd take [The Man I Love] or Our Son with him to go pick up a pound or so of sliced beef. Since making a run for barbecue wasn't an errand for girls, I was never really sure where the place was.

On this trip, I had a craving for barbecue. Mom had to tell me where the Good Ole Boys had moved to, after a shopping mall development displaced them. And of course, she couldn't remember what their real name was - for her, too, they were just the Good Ole Boys.

It's a small town, so I didn't have too much trouble finding them. The place earns brownie points for authenticity because they have a cow on the roof.

In Texas, barbecue means beef, not pork. Mom told me what she wanted me to get. I picked up some barbecued beef brisket by the pound, a couple of sides of beans and cole slaw, and some extra sauce on the side. They had some tasty looking peach and berry cobbler, but we already had some dessert at home. Mom and I had a nice dinner. The beef was good, tender, but with the real taste of smoke. The sauce was nice and tangy. The beans were made with small navy beans, and tasted like the barbecue sauce - as it should be. The cole slaw was a little, bland - but who goes to a barbecue joint for the cole slaw?

The following day Mom and I had a good lunch with barbecue beef sandwiches. She has a good appetite, when the eating is good.