Bev sporting a swine necklace (Photo by Jeremy Liebman)
His gaze tightened, his cheek twitched as a surge of energy shot through his body. In a moment, he was off.
Through the side door of our dining room, farmer and sustainable agriculture guru, Bev Eggleston, charged like a bull out of the gate in Pamplona. A man had stolen a pig leg out of his truck. And he wasn’t gonna take that shit.
While not about wine, beer or spirits (although Paul Grieco was preparing to lead the staff through a tasting of a 1999 Nikolaihof Riesling), I feel inclined to relay the events of today…
(Quick background: in the world of fine dining, Bev Eggleston is a superstar. A farmer from Virginia, Bev created EcoFriendly Foods with a mission to unite other farmers under the banner of raising pasture-fed animals. His meats can be found on top menus all over the city. Not only that, he’s one hell of a guy. And he sources our pigs for the pig roasts held every Tuesday night at Hearth, where I hang my hat).
So…there we are. 5:30 pm. Bev has parked his truck on First Avenue outside of the dining room door. As our staff is gathered for pre-shift, he begins to softly preach the gospel of small, ethical farming. Meanwhile, just outside the window, a lone, shady character in a blue t-shirt starts to case his truck. Sniffing around for vulnerability, his eyes lock on to its booty. He reaches in, pulls out a raw pig leg and tries to casually walk away. BUT…don’t fuck with a farmer’s animals. They have an instinct, a connection akin to a mama and her babies, and Bev felt a disturbance in the force.
