Last weekend, we cooked a 115 lb. pig in honor of my friend’s birthday that ends in zero. The chief pig cooker likes a little pinch between his cheek and gum, and always has a spit bottle nearby.

We were on the porch (2:00 am.) with several gallon jugs, and all the ingredients to build some marinade and hot sauce for the cooking. I must be honest…we’d been drinking. Anyway, we were throwing in a little of this, and a little of that…doing a little quality control, and throwing in a little more of this and that.

To make a long story short…the pig cook leaves to visit the head, and while he was gone the contents of the spit bottle went in the pot...by mistake!

I mean, it was dark, and there were a lot of bottles on the table...looked like a normal beer to the birthday boy.

It was too late in the game to start over, so we didn’t tell anyone until after they’d eaten.

It was the best pig I’ve ever had…but damn…Skoal juice?