Let me introduce myself. My name is Mark Sisson. I’m 63 years young. I live and work in Malibu, California. In a past life I was a professional marathoner and triathlete. Now my life goal is to help 100 million people get healthy. I started this blog in 2006 to empower people to take full responsibility for their own health and enjoyment of life by investigating, discussing, and critically rethinking everything we’ve assumed to be true about health and wellness...Tell Me More
On September 8th I asked my readers to host picnics and to send me the results. The following is one of 27 amazing submissions, the best of which will win an entire cow, courtesy of US Wellness. Vote for your favorite on October 8.
The execution of our Grokfeast had to be performed with all the precision, stamina, and strength of a primordial hunt. As a typical group of stressed (and broke) college students, we knew the challenges of pulling off a successful Grokfeast would be many, but like the ancient Primal man, we also knew that to not succeed was not an option. So, we sharpened our proverbial spears and went to work. The preparation began nearly one month before the deadline as we gathered fellow Primal followers to our cause. This task alone nearly killed the whole mission. Not too many in the land of Mississippi remember their Primal roots. Initially, the interest was minimal, but we set that task aside for the present and turned instead to the challenge of providing a suitable meat for the hordes. A carcass was in order, of that we were certain. But not just any carcass, baked in some modern contraption requiring minimal effort or skill. Oh, no. We were going to make Grok proud. Thus the idea of building a smoke pit. A woolly mammoth of tasks, a pit big enough for our needs would have to be at least 4 feet wide by 5 feet long by 2 feet deep. Again, Mississippi is not known for its “shovel-friendly” earth. A deluge of medical school exams and activities prevented us from putting much more thought into the Grokfeast until the one week deadline loomed before us. This was when we could be found scraping at the sun-baked clay with shovels by the light of our truck headlights while others performed rain dances. Thankfully, our prayers were answered and it downpoured the next day. Despite the merciful rain, it still took us two days to finish digging the pit (it counted as our WOW). With only hours of daylight to spare, we sacrificed the pig carcass to the fiery coals on Thursday night, making sure to completely bury it in order to escape tampering from neighboring tribes or wild animals.
The next twenty-four hours were spent in anxious anticipation as we gathered the remainder of our supplies and suckered the last few people into participating in this “weird primal meat thing”. I’m sure our hearts were pounding as much as any Grok after an exhilarating hunt as we pulled the still-smoking carcass wrapped in chicken wire and damp sheets out of the dirt. Before we even had a chance to unwrap the delectable bundle the smell of smoked pork wafted into our nostrils.
Success! The pig was perfectly cooked and subsequently devoured by the fifteen people that had attended! We feasted on pig accompanied by the other Paleo dishes such as homemade apple chips, coleslaw and berry almond crumble! Even the tallow did not go to waste as we used it to satisfy the ravenous appetites of man’s best friend – six best friends, to be exact! As the sun began to set we grabbed our Frisbees, volleyballs, and fishing rods and headed out to the fields and lake for some Primal digestion time. But does Grok go home just because the sun sets? No! He builds another huge fire! And so we did. The gathering lasted deep into the moonlit night as we sang and boasted of prior victories and days long past – the food warm in our bellies and the fellowship deep-rooted in our hearts.
Tiffany Beck, Nicole Beck, Renee Blanco, Amanda Tucker, Amanda Hipp, Jessica Hudson, Amanda Gettinger, Renee Pietsch, Ben Bailey, Jason Collins, Stacie Collins, Ted Lyons, Victoria Sater, Jobeth Miller, Theresa Adicks