"Every time you turn a page, you encounter another treasure . . . ."          ----Rheta Grimsley Johnson, syndicated columnist for King Features Sample Photos Dwight Runge (left) and Eduardo Zayas-Bazán, hosting a Cuban pig roast in Johnson City, Tennessee, in the summer of 1971. Spaniards love pork. They eat it in various ways at different times of the day. One of the Spaniards' favorite snacks is jamon serrano (ham from the Sierra), which is cut in paper-thin slices and served with their favorite dry sherry, wine, or beer during the social hour they enjoy either before lunch or dinner. If you visit any bar in Spain, you will see hanging from the ceiling this delicacy which, like fine wine, increases in price as it ages. Another morsel is the cochinillo (a six-week suckling pig) for which the Castilean region is famous. This 10-pound pig is done in restaurants in firewood ovens and is ready in less than two hours. I am partial to the chorizo, a hard pork sausage with paprika and garlic which comes in all sizes and can be eaten as a snack, cooked or uncooked, or as the main ingredient, in addition to eggs and potatoes, in a Galician omelette, or with rice, or as one of the meats in a rich man's paella. Among my fondest memories are the pig roasts we had in Cuba on special occasions. The Manual del cocinero cubano (Manual of the Cuban Cook), printed in Cuba by Spencer and Company in 1856, states that, "parties were held with the sole pretext of eating the Creole roast pig." The pig was scalded in boiling water to get rid of the hair, opened and gutted, and then roasted outside in an improvised firewood oven which consisted of a hole in the ground. On the two sides of the open oven were two strong wooden poles firmly placed in the ground with y-shaped prongs at the top. The poles supported another pole which held the pig hanging horizontally. In this manner, the lean 40-80-pound pig would slowly be turned and cooked over the oven until it was ready to eat some 12 hours later. The pig would be roasted either open or sewed back together, the grease slowly dripping on the firewood...." Continued on page 394 in Home and Away Pearl Jackson, grandmother of Jimmy Neil Smith, founder of Jonesborough, Tennessee’s National Storytelling Festival, serves her Parker House rolls, 1950s. " I was born in the heart of Southern Appalachia‹in Jonesborough, tucked in the northeastern corner of Tennessee, just a stone's throw away from the storied mountains of Western North Carolina, Southwest Virginia, and Eastern Kentucky. Yet growing up, I was unaware of the rich storytelling tradition just outside my door. Don't misunderstand. My early life was filled with storybooks, and my most memorable school experience is of my eighth grade teacher, Sarah Keys, reading to us from her favorite childhood book, Miss Minerva and William Green Hill. What I didn't know was that in that time and place, stories of all kinds‹folk tales, fairy tales, legends‹were swirling all around me. For, you see, these mountains are peopled with natural storytellers who regale anyone who'll listen with tales from America's bountiful oral culture...." Continued on page 525 in Home and Away. Hyder Bundy was chef at East Tennessee State for over 40 years, beginning in 1915, when East Tennessee State Normal School had been in existence only four years. For over 40 years, East Tennessee State had its very own chef. Hyder Bundy personally prepared meals for the school's faculty, students, and staff beginning back in 1915, just four years after East Tennessee State Normal School opened. Very little written information exists in university records about Chef Bundy, but in the minds of alumni such as writer Phyllis Tickle, daughter of Dean P.W. Alexander, he is a memorable presence: Dear Chef Bundy. How I adored him. He was perfect for and with kids, having a bunch of them himself and a positive bevy of grandchildren who hung around‹he called it "helping me run the place"‹the cafeteria on Sundays. Because we were living on campus in the faculty/housemaster's apartment in old Ritter Hall until 1939, we ate every Sunday lunch at the cafeteria. It was more or less treated as a part of my father's duties than a family outing, for he did indeed circulate among the tables greeting parents, chatting with students, often just visiting with the faculty. During those sometimes long, long lunches, Bundy would rescue me and take me back behind the steam tables with him to "help him run the place" as well. That jovial kindness and his incredible biscuits were formative parts of my childhood as a campus brat. His fried chicken was the best in the South by his own admission, and his mashed potatoes were the best you'll ever eat here or in heaven....Continued on page 652 of Home and Away