Whole hog

"The Skylight Inn does not use a barbecue sauce, that often tomatoey, syrupy, spicy-sweet condiment that most Americans associate with and serve atop and alongside their smoked meats. Here the meat not only speaks for itself but boastfully asserts its historical import and culinary prominence in a stubborn East Carolina drawl...

"Each chopped quarter is sprinkled with a handful of salt, then a fistful of black pepper. There are no written recipes, measuring cups, or calculations; instead the chopper is chef: knowledgeable, trusted, and mostly always right in his apportion of spice.

"Next come splashes of White House brand apple cider vinegar and Texas Pete, a Tabasco-esque cayenne and vinegar hot sauce that, despite its name, hails from North Carolina. Both are poured from plastic gallon jugs, arms held high, the liquids cascading like twin waterfalls into the meat.

"The chopper then (uses) his two blades like paddles to mix the shoulder and ham, spice and sauce... 'The main thing,' (Mike) Parrott believes, 'is to just make the first piece taste like the last piece. You want the whole season to be beautiful.'

"This is the magic hour, when spice meets meat, ambrosia melds with nectar - when smoked and chopped pork becomes barbecue, when barbecue transcends its own simplicity and becomes simply beautiful. When nothing becomes truly something."

Rien Fertel in "The One True Barbecue: Fire, Smoke, and the Pitmasters Who Cook the Whole Hog"