Cooter wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed but was personable enough.
Folk in Butler like Coot’s hogshead soup. About three times a year, he heads to the farmers’ market. He buys a hog’s head there.
“Cooter will tell you the secret to a mighty fine soup is half bottle of good Kentucky bourbon. Additionally, it requires a slab of smoke fatback.”
Cooter starts at the cock crow. He builds a fire under his kettle and fills it with water from his well.
“I got stink bugs in my well. I have to boil the stank out before I add the head,” says Coot.
After the head is in, Cooter spends some quality time with Damn It, his hound. “Best damn hunting dog I ever owned,” Cooter will say if you ask him.
When the head’s color turns a little brown, it’s time to add the fatback. The fat mixes with the hog’s meat. Cooter then adds the whiskey and half a pound of salt. He stirs it all up.
Coot’s neighbors can smell the fragrant concoction and begin to arrive with pots, pans, and buckets.
“I use my favorite crock to pass out the soup. The stoneware keeps my fingers from getting burnt,” the man will say.
Like rats leaving a sinking ship, folks vanish into the hills, eager to help themselves to biscuits and soup.
“The dog and I end up with a pan full of soup, so it works out fine,” remarked Cooter.
If you are ever in Cooter country, stop by for a chat and a bowl of hog’s head soup. He’ll be glad you did.
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