The man has a smoke house in his shed and is the "go to" guy for smokey treats in town. We already had planned to pick up a couple big hens for him to smoke for us the next time he fired up his smoke box. When we got to Sam and Louise's house, Sam was just taking a pack of pork chops out of the smokehouse and we brought over some homemade pickles and, well...thas da way it is in the country. Exchanges were made and we left there with 6 smoked pork chops, 3 of which didn't make it home. The other three made a most excellent addition to a black eye pea dish, cooked in a black iron pot. Peg says these are the best pork chops ever. I say hers are. I wonder where dat leaves my batter fried Southern pork chops? She also says they are the best ever, too. I don't know if I'm playin' second fiddle to Sam's pork chops or not...I guess it's ok, tho'; they are very good. 
This afternoon several big thunderstorms moved through the area, but between showers we fired up the Jeep and dashed back across town, over to Sam's and picked up the 2 hens Sam had smoked for us. He even threw in a bunch of his smoked ribs wrapped in tin foil for 'langiappe'. The other day while we were still sound asleep, we woke up and found a pail of cucumbers outside our back door that somehow had made it across town from Sam's garden. If I know my sweet Pegody the two hens will be starring in a gumbo pretty soon. Ican't hardly wait 'til next hitch and the "gumbo-ee" and "pickley" adventures she has planned for us.
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