Goodbye to Mr. Pig

A very sad weekend, to lose two masters of great African-American art forms: boogie-woogie piano and barbecue.

Big Joe Duskin and Paul Sebron both passed away in the last few days.

It's amazing to think about the great American culture that has came from a place of hardship, deprivation and discrimination. From the saloons of the poor side of town came the down and dirty, rythmic and wild style of playing the piano that Big Joe Duskin was one of the last authentic practitioners of. It may have had humble origins, but there were true virtuosos of the form who made it an art.

Barbecue and southern soul cooking too, came from humble materials that had to be made the most of. Ribs, greens, hog jowls, black eyed peas, all became masterpieces in the right person's hands. Ribs may be fatter and greens meatier than they used to be, but it still takes someone who knows what they're doing to turn them into a feast. Paul Sebron, Mr. Pig, carried on that tradition. His greens had a silky, rich quality I haven't had anywhere else, and his ribs and chicken were succulent, smoky, and right in that equilibrium between spicy, tangy and sweet. His barbecue barrels sure made shopping at Findlay Market smell good, and I had to sometimes have lunch even though I wasn't planning to when I was down there.

Mr. Pig also used to do a great crawfish boil at Stenger's when he owned it: he'd pour huge steam pans full of crawfish, potatoes corn, and sausages on paper-covered tables and let everyone chow down while he sang a number of two with the band. I'm sorry he's gone--and at only 54.