One thing you might know about barbecue, particularly the North Carolina style, is that it involves the chopped-up bits of more or less the whole pig. That includes the lean loin and the fatty shoulder, the tender ham and the crisp skin. Juicy is a euphemism for cholesterol-laden. None of this is a surprise. However, I've been working hard at weight loss over the past couple months (6 lbs and counting) and the idea of going whole-hog (excuse the pun) with a mountain of pork a hush puppies has gotten less appealing than it was a few months ago. And yet, here we are. To be in NC and not have barbecue would be like being in San Diego and not having a margarita the size of your head. Sure, you can go, but what's the point?
On top of that, there are the ballparks, bristling with beer and hot dogs. (Side note: My favorite ballpark pastime is "Unlikely Stadium Food," which involves calling out, vendor style, the aforementioned. "Pot roast! Get your hot pot roast!" or "Omelettes! Made-to-order omelettes!" I digress. The point is, this trip is a caloric minefield. We've settled on a strategy for damage control: visits to representative institutions in the eastern, piedmont and mountain traditions of barbecue, and salads wherever else we can manage. I had two today and went swimming. If I can escape this vacation weight-neutral we'll call it a win.
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