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Back in my teenage years (yeah, way back) we used to take an hour drive north to a little spot called Gordon's Creek. It was a spot out in the woods where hippies, freaks, and bikers would meet up and party. Sometimes there'd be local bands. Somebody brought a hog and some shovels. I helped dig the hole and collect the big field stones. We chucked the stones in the bottom of the hole, put the hog in after it had been wrapped in a salt water soaked canvas and a pineapple or three got stuffed in it, and filled the rest up with firewood scavenged from the area. I was tripping my young ass off on acid, so I stayed up all night replenishing the wood. Come morning, I'd been instructed to let the fire die down. Folks were cooking bacon and eggs in pans over the coals.Back in my wild river running days of yore, for my assigned night as dinner cook, I often fixed a ham for dinner in a firepit, where I cross hatched the top and sides of the ham and inserted cloves in each of the intersections, and then lay pineapple slices on top. I mixed the pineapple juice with Grand Mariner and poured it over the ham before sealing the pot with a lid to baste the ham in it's vapors.
I cooked it buried in coals and out in the wilds of nowhere, it was always well received and appreciated after a day on the wild river.
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Once everything was done in the afternoon, we dug out the pig. The meat would literally fall off the bone. Best hog I'd ever eaten.