Italian

I spent the better part of Christmas week worrying about one thing. A baby pig. Specifically, a suckling pig. Would it arrive in time for Christmas (I ordered it from a farm in Arizona, and I live in Southern California)? Would it fit it my oven? Would it thaw out properly? Would I have to send my dinner guests out for McDonalds after botching this whole pig thing? Fast forward a few days, and I am happy to report that everything turned out better than expected. No major disasters. There are little things I might do differently next time, but “Babe,” as I took to calling her, was without a doubt the star of Christmas evening. Here is the breakdown of what I did, in case you are thinking of doing it yourself some time.