Well, it’s been quite a weekend for me already, and it’s only Sunday morning. Friday night I ended up at an animal-themed burlesque show in Seattle, followed by a visit to a bar that the Seattle Weekly described thusly: “the ramshackle dÃƒÂ©cor is like a seedy literary salon, a Faulkner novel, and an opium den tossed in a blender and set to frappe.” What could be bad?
Saturday evening brought the much-anticipated goat roast. Still not quite knowing what to expect, we walked out on the host’s deck, looked out at the backyard and saw… nothing. “Where’s the goat?” The answer, of course, was “buried underground – see that dirt patch?” The cooking process goes like this:
- Dig a 4 foot deep pit.
- Burn a bunch of wood in the bottom of the pit ’til you get some coals.
- Wrap a (dead) goat in banana leaves & burlap.
- Place goat on coals. Cover with dirt.
- Come back in 11-12 hours and exhume goat.
For something that’d been underground since I’d woken up that morning, the goat was quite tasty and not too gritty, though a bit of dirt did get in through the wrapping.