Yes Matthew, I have Cooked A Goat

Yes Matthew, I Have Cooked A Goat.

After much wailing, moaning and gnashing of teeth (by his grief stricken parents), son 1.0 is off to college and by all accounts doing well.  He has old friends, new friends, a new fraternity and a new found sense of independence.  In short, he is doing all the things one does when one moves from home to a distant college.  With one possible exception.  Son 1.0 and I visited briefly during his one and only (to date) visit home since leaving for school and compared notes from college circa 1979 and today.  He has more than 23,000 fellow students, I had 1100.  He lives in a metropolitan dorm surrounded by hundreds of students with a shared major.  I lived in an $80.00 per month house that was grossly overpriced.  And, I cooked a goat.

Son 1.0 has a meal plan and eats tofu and curried vegetables in one of four cafeterias (cafeterii?).  I foraged the soon to be discarded meats and produce at the local Safeway and fended for myself.  Likewise, I cooked a goat.

Unlike Son 1.0, while several years under aged, I enjoyed adult beverages and the company of others who were similarly inclined.  During a “study session” involving the afore mentioned adult beverages, someone spoke of another small school with a long history of goat roasts.  I  allowed as how there really wasn’t much to roasting a goat and that I simply did not understand the fuss.  So, in the wee hours of the morning, it was agreed we would have a small goat roast and I, being the experienced member of our besotted group was tasked with securing a goat.

Hmm.  I reviewed the local paper and there were no goats for sale.  So, several days later I contacted the local sale barn and learned that indeed, there was a sale the following day and yes, there were goats scheduled for sale.  I arrived at the sale in white painter paints, Reebok sneakers, a polo shirt and driving my 1966 Ford Mustang.  I registered as a potential buyer, received my bidder number and waited for the goats.

Soon enough the goats were brought into the ring and after spirited bidding, I was the winner at $10.00.  What I didn’t realize was that there were 12 goats and I had just committed myself to the purchase of all 12 at $10.00 each.  As I tried to explain myself to the auctioneer while surrounded by farmers in overalls and ranchers in cowboy hats, the auctioneer became angrier and angrier until one of the farmers began to laugh followed quickly by the others.  The auctioneer softened, took pity on me and finally asked which of the 12 goats I wanted.  I finally picked the gray one.  It was then I realized I must take immediate possession of my $10.00 gray goat.  So, goat and I drove from the sale barn into town in the previously described 1966 Ford Mustang.  Me in the driver’s seat, her standing in the passenger seat.  Yes, even in rural south Arkansas, people give you funny looks when the passenger in your 1966 Ford Mustang is a gray nanny goat. 

Upon arrival at the destination, my friends and I were faced with additional issues.  First, this was a live goat and must be dispatched prior to roasting and second, despite my earlier inebriated bravado, no one knew how to roast a goat.  I will spare you the details of the “dispatching” process save to say it didn’t go any better than the auction.  One of our group then remembered hearing about cooking pigs in the ground, so a hole was dug in the side yard when we realized we had no foil and no grill or grate.  However, the neighbor had a chain link fence and several minutes later, we had a makeshift galvanized grill stretched over a roaring fire in the brand new hole. 

It turns out goats are lean animals best slow roasted over many hours on a spit, not incinerated on a galvanized fence over a roaring fire.  While portions of the goat were burnt and others were raw, virtually none of it was just right.  However, adult beverages were in good supply and like bondo on a car, beer will disguise many defects in food.  We ate burnt/raw goat, drank an entire keg of beer and spent the next several days unable to recall the previous days’ events.   

So, Matthew, my college experience was different than yours.  I cooked a goat.

See you next time.