Sally and I had stopped at a local BBQ place for a late afternoon supper. A few other tables were occupied, but the place was mostly empty. While we were waiting for our meal, the cook came out with a large platter and went to the nearest table to the kitchen and presented it to the couple there. I couldn't see what was on the plate, but it was a fairly large pile of BBQ. The couple shook their heads, and the cook moved on to the next table. Same reaction. He got to us, presented the platter and asked "Did you order the Armadillo?" On the platter was a fully clothed whole Armadillo, barbecued and steaming hot. We said no, we didn't order the Armadillo. The cook asked if we would like to try some of the meat when he carved it, and we said "Sure, why not?" So a few minutes later we got a small plate of lean meat, redolent with wood smoke and mild sauce. It was tasty.
The story: On the way to work that morning, the cook hit the Armadillo with his car and killed it. He picked it up, brought it to work, cleaned it and cooked it slowly with the chickens and pork. He playfully presented it to the patrons and shared the meat. This guy was taking a big chance since I am sure that cooking road kill in a restaurant kitchen isn't legal, and he had no way of knowing who was sitting at the tables. But we all had a taste and a good laugh.
The second time we ate "road kill" was the whale. I think those are the only times for road kill. But, remember "Fried Green Tomatoes" ? Well, years ago Sally and I drove many times to Bradenton on Hwy 301. Just before the bridge over the Hillsboro river was a long low building. One end had a sign that read(I am making up the name since I don't remember the original one) "JONES FUNERAL HOME". And on the other end of the same building was a sigh that read "JONES BAR-B-QUE". Hmmmmm.
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