This is a story of the beautiful and the damned. I imagine lechon as a married man’s affair with the hottest and most unforgiving woman in kingdomcome. The highest of guilty pleasures. There is no saying no. Not now, not ever.
You know it is wrong. You know you will die of heart attack but you are powerless. You dream about it at night, the delicious mistress ruthless in haunting you day and night. It brings you to your knees. But you are outrageously glad for it.
Lechon, lechon. You gorgeous porky promise of cardiac arrest. It is a whole pit-roasted pig, with skin as crispy as the thunder of Thor. The meat is moist and succulent you will be tempted to lather the grease on your skin instead of your bland, boring lotion that is not even edible.
This is Cebu’s gift to the universe. Rico’s in Ayala delivered my poison. They do it in utter perfection Zthere is no need for sauce, and as an added pleasure, they serve chili-flavored ones. The taste is like taking your mistress on a weeklong holiday, I shit you not.
There is really no going around it. As you clean serving after serving and feel a block of pig fat traveling up your veins, threatening to clog one eventually, all you can do is ask for more, more, more.
We are all damned. But deliciously so.