(Warning: This post is not for everyone..you’ll figure out who you are pretty fast.)

A most glorious weekend...

Since I’ve been cavorting in the grand city of London and just returned from Nirvana or Barcelona as its known to others, (momento de silenco por favor) I have noticed a shift in my attitude.

My love for meat-and most specifically -meat that hangs from a large hook has increased exponentially. I realize that is an odd statement. It’s actually been something I’ve been grappling with for a while now. Not the meat thing, but the new found love for seeing grilled meat (I will never be a PETA rep I am well aware of that) and layers upon glorious layers of dried hanging meat. Unbeknownst to me, there is no other city that loves a big roast more than London. Pig roasts are rampant in London and Sundays are the big day. I love Sundays. It’s like being a kid again and knowing that you are going to get to go on the Slip’n’Slide because it’s nice out. The large pig on the grill is my new Slip’n Slide. DISCLAIMER: I really do love animals. I am sticking to the Hat Trick of meat (ie) cows ,pigs and chickens. And I actually really love cows, pigs and chickens..(you see, it’s an internal struggle!)

Our love affair

However, I was in Barcelona this past weekend and I went to a local market. In the past, I would have scoffed and possibly grimaced internally at the poor animals that didn’t have a chance from the get-go. However, this time I grabbed my friend and said, “we must take a photo!” This photo then spurred an hour-long analytical discussion of meat. She has been experiencing similar feelings since she moved to London back in March. In fact, the Saturday before we were at an all-day roast and managed to consume almost an entire pig between the two of us. That takes talent and dedication. Now what does this all mean?

Overzealous? I think not...

I’m not exactly sure. Maybe it speaks to the laid back nature of the cultures; maybe Americans need to adopt a “when in Rome” (or I suppose London and Barcelona in this case) and open up a bevy of meat stands along Rush street; maybe the British and the Spaniards are barbaric. Whatever it is, I like it and I plan on going to many more Sunday (and Friday) roasts. I will not chronicle all of them as that would be weird.

For the meat-lovers back in the Motherland who don’t want to fly to London and pour red paint on my clothes after reading this, Paulina Meat Market at 3501 N. Lincoln Ave is a Chicago institution and has more hanging meat than you can possibly handle.

Que aproveche

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