Every now and then a girl has to eat a pig.

Just after Christmas my parents had a Spanish couple from Melbourne stay with them. And because no one had clearly eaten enough over the Christmas period, Pedro (the man of the Spanish Melbourne couple) requested they eat pig. My parents thought it a wonderful idea and invited me and Demis along.

The six of us arrived at the Don Quixote restaurant (famous for being the best Spanish restaurant Sydney has to offer) on Kent Street Sydney with very hungry bellies. When the waiter gracefully asked for our order, my father - with pride and no hesitation - replied:

"We want The Pig".

The rest of us supported this order with grave, serious faces. Our twelve meat-hungry eyes gave the waiter no cause to doubt our decision. We were going to eat pig tonight. A whole pig.

Of course, preparing an entire pig is no quick activity and while our mouths watered from waiting we picked at delicious garlic prawns and bread. Correction. The prawns were gobbled up much in the same way that a wolf dying of starvation would devour a slab of meat, while my mother and I fought over the remaining garlic and oil to dip our bread in.

Tapas over we settled for sipping on our red wine and catching up (The Pig was still cooking). I had a surprisingly good time talking to everyone - it was one of those evenings where everyone was enjoying themselves and there was plenty of laughter. The last time I had seen Pedro and Nieves was over ten years ago when my family drove down to stay them with them for a holiday. Melbourne had been a treat for me and my sister, as usually our holiday destination consisted of...well only of Cowra really. Wyangala Dam to be exact.

Note: For those that aren't familiar with the old WD I can promise you, you aren't missing much. It consists of dead grass, bare mountains and a dried out dam. We never were lucky enough to stay in a caravan, but on some years my father gave us an extra special holiday by allowing us to hire tent space with electricity. Naturally, we were really excited to sample Melbourne's electricity.

Anyway, over the Wolf Blass we amused ourselves with family stories and future plans - but the good times and merry chit chat came to a halt when...

...The Pig arrived.

We all looked slightly embarrassed as we recalled our confident faces when ordering this oversized piece of pork. Our table, which had previously spaciously sat six, was now laden with The Pig...a suckling dead beast whose body was carved up to sit on the platter in pieces amidst its ex-trotting legs, pink round snout and curly little tail. So large was the platter that I meekly moved my plate onto my lap.

There was a moment of tense silence.

Bravely, my father slowly stuck his fork into a piece of The Pig and brought it to his mouth.

We waited anxiously to see who would win this battle of the flesh.

Almost suddenly, my father's eyes expanded into an almost caveman-like look of victory! Without haste we flung our forks into the juicy meat and with a great ROAR began devouring our prized pig in an almost hedonistic manner.

The Pig's body melted in my mouth with incredible flavour and delicacy...the skin crisply broke apart in my mouth and made me crave more before I had even swallowed it. This was, without a doubt, the finest pig to be had in Sydney.

We helped ourselves and each other to more and more of the tender pork and as we neared the end of our feast, I recall a moment where I began to wonder - had The Pig's soul somehow possessed our greedy bodies? Was it wrong to savagely tear apart this entire animal purely to satisfy our carnivorous lust? Did man name this creature only to become it?

Lost in intense contemplation, my fork paused mid-stride...

...until I saw Pedro try and make a grab for The Pig's white thigh I'd been keeping my eye on.