. . . you can wear your new Piggly Wiggly shirt to work. Note well: the front page of Piggly Wiggly Carolina Co.’s webpage notes that they’re having a special on “Hog Wild Barbecued Boston Butt.” I don’t know what that is, but if you’ve got to have some, you know where to go. Also, note that the Pigs have entered into the 21st Century: they have a link on the right hand side that says “sushi,” where it used to be more likely to say “bait shop.” I imagine that we have a reached a point where one can’t buy a box of nightcrawlers at the same place you buy your bacon and Kool-Aid anymore. Sigh.
While talking about Southern Grocery stores, I would probably be remiss to also not mention Ingles. Evidently, the Pig and Ingles decided to divide up market space in the Southeast by topographic location: from sea level up to about 1,000 feet, you get the Pig. 1,000 feet or higher above sea level, and you get Ingles. If you live in a marsh, you shop at Piggly Wiggly. If you live in a hollow, you shop at Ingles. Last time I was in Asheville at my sister’s house, we went to the nearby Ingles (they’re up in the mountains, so they’re in Ingles country) and I bought four of the largest cans of boiled peanuts that I’ve ever seen, big monsters, hard to lift two of them in a single plastic sack. The cans cost $1.99 a piece. How can you beat that with a stick? (And if you don’t know what boiled peanuts are . . . shame on you! shame! shame! you don’t know what you’re missing!)(Of course, as good as those cans of boiled peanuts are, in order to make them taste just right, you have to take them out of the can and put them in little brown paper sacks, then leave them sit out on the counter for a couple of days before eating them).