This weekend, we traveled to Danville, Kentucky, for a celebratory pig roast down on my sister ‘n’ her honey’s farmlet. Indeed, they have much to celebrate, and there were lots and lots of us there to help them–by raising a glass (or few) and by picking apart this mahogany beauty.
Just as my mother and I were about to collect our pickins onto our plates, we both started to smile and tell the same memory of our Uncle Lee!
No visit with our family in Kinston, NC, was complete without at least one trip to King’s BBQ. Their Eastern NC vinegar sauce cannot be matched. And to dine there with Uncle Lee was so joyfully horrific that you just didn’t know whether to sit right up next to him or hide under the table.
Because he picked out the pig’s eyes and popped ’em in his mouth! Every time!
He’d start talking about the eyes on the drive there. And he’d roll his own eyes in anticipation. And he’d get in line and say how he was hoping nobody else got the eyes first. And oh-my-lord he’d reach right over and POP POP them into his mouth! And he’d roll those eyeballs around in his cheeks with great and disgusting drama, then GULP.
And then he’d insist on giving you a big ol’ smacker-kiss on your cheek. EEEWWWWW Uncle Lee!
Guess what I finally realized? When I was about 30 years old?
They were grapes.
ginnygram 
Ha! I like Uncle Lee.
Funnny