by foodbitch
21. February 2010 18:43
Hidden behind office space
In a building so remote
Lies a temple to pigs’ grace
Le couture this is le haute.
A Pig’s tail for 9 dollars
A bread ball for but five
‘Twas good enough to hollars
Or squeal it in pig’s jive.
A pork shoulder was eaten.
Prosciutto bead ball too.
No entrée exceeded
Ten single buckaroo.
But bester than the pricing,
Almost than the food
Was the Bloody Mary spicing
Heaven/Seven lewd.
The Purple Pig had served us
The way that no bar could
An orgy of ungulate
And more liquor than was good.
Go eat now at Purple Pig
Go before the line.
The taste harks back to stockyard days
Chicago knows its swine.
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