Nothing quite inspires the palate like a painting of two pigs driving into the desert sunset eating tacos.
Right?
When I started this month’s column, I thought I’d write about murals at local restaurants. So I sauntered into Merry Piglets to take in the grandeur of Greta Gretzinger’s murals. Evocations of Thelma & Louise blend with children’s book heroine Olivia all wrapped up in a Mexican theme. Diners are surrounded by imagery of human-like pigs frolicking and going about daily life in a small village. Some are swilling it up at the local tavern; others look for a place to eat lunch. The aforementioned sunset picnic drive mural reigns over it’s own room in the back.
This got me thinking: What’s up with pig themes and restaurants? Do images of pigs subliminally whet our appetites for pork products? Does a pig on the wall give us more license to pig out at the table?
The two primary outposts of pig art – and proud pork products – are indeed Merry Piglets and Café Genevieve. I visited both establishments to reflect upon the art and conduct an unscientific study of the impact of swine aesthetics upon dining habits.
The Merry Piglets porkers do not portray the usual negative associations of gluttony, greed and uncleanliness attributed to the species. They are akin to the friendly swine of children’s literature and film: Wilbur, Babe, and, of course, Miss Piggy. They are happily rotund of belly, living the good life, enjoying their guacamole and margaritas. “Join the party,” they veritably squeal.
Café Genevieve involves a more complicated psychology. Here, too, the piggies on the wall are friendly, inviting even. The centerpiece painting, “The Noble Pig,” created by a local artist as a gift to one of the Genevieve business partners, glances knowingly at diners in the main room. Chances are those very diners are chowing down on Chef Joshua Governale’s pork specialties, like Pig Candy, roasted pork chop, crispy pork belly, or some good ole pulled pork.
“Pork is my favorite thing to eat and cook,” Governale told me.
And the pig is okay with this? Apparently. By the end of my very delicious Spanish frittata with house-made chorizo, I decided that porcine art has the unique ability to convey a bucolic, farm-y peace of mind, in which the human diner is merely doing her part in the great cycle of agrarian society. The noble pig beams his approval of all the contented bellies.
