When I was in North and South Carolina over New Year's, I spent a fair amount of time (maybe more than enough in a certain person's pork-loving opinion) railing against Smithfield. Especially after hearing from D how, in the summer, you could drive for stretches at a time on the highways of North Carolina enveloped by the horrible smell of hog farms, I couldn't help but rib him just a little (so to speak) for his love of the other Smithfield's Bar-B-Q sandwich, which I'm just guessing contains the first Smithfield's pork.
The problem with all this was that I was a complete hypocrite. While I didn't end up eating a Bar-B-Q sandwich, I did succumb to something just as bad for a person who is trying to remain comfortably on her high horse: Bojangles' Famous Chicken 'n Biscuits. In my defense, chicken on a biscuit seems to have been an integral part of D's life while he lived in North Carolina, so in an effort to connect with my loved one I took it upon myself to experience a Cajun Filet biscuit sandwich with a side of seasoned fries. Big of me, I know.
The sandwich and fries were decent but weren't too filling. Either that or the emptiness I felt was simply the hole where my soul used to be (more likely). No matter... I'd gotten a literal taste of D's formative years, and that counts for something, too. So, as every classy lady will do for her gentleman friend when a special occasion rolls around, I ordered D a very special anniversary present this month.
So I don't really drink beer. But I think it classes up my wine glass just fine, thank you.
