Original annotation:
[Someone sent this in from California, and we decided to extend
our campaign against information hoarding to recipes as well
as software.  (Recipes are the closest thing, not involving computers,
to software.)

The story appears to be a myth, according to the Chicago Tribune,
which says that Mrs Fields Cookies hoards the information completely.
Therefore, this recipe can be thought of as a compatible replacement.
We have reports that the cookies it makes are pretty good.]

New annotation for XEmacs 19.15/20.1:
[This file originally contained SPAM.  It has been updated for XEmacs. -sb]

From: jhayward@math.uiuc.edu (Jonathan Hayward)
Subject: A delicacy of delicacies
Date: 19 Feb 1997 16:30:02 -0800

Okay, everyone...  a true story of justice in the good old U.S. of A.  Thought
y'all might enjoy this; if nothing else, it shows internet justice, if it can
be called that.

On a whim, I decided to visit Hormel's main plant, and, after a tour, we were
allowed to taste samples of their various products.  And there was one...  I
don't think that words can describe how it tasted.  It was a meat product, but
to call it meat would not do it justice.  The memory of the taste brings tears
to my eyes.

I like to cook in my spare time, so I asked the tour guide if they could give
me the recipe.  She frowned, and said, "I'm afraid not."  Well, I said, would
you let me buy the recipe?  With a cute smile, she said, "Yes."  I asked how
much, and she responded, "Two-fifty."  I said with approval, just add it to my
tab.

Thirty days later, I received my VISA statement from Hormel and it was $285.00.
I looked again and remembered I had only spent $9.95 for a couple of tins, and
about $20.00 for an anti-nauseant.  As I glanced at the bottom of the
statement, it said, "Recipe -- $250.00."  Boy, was I upset!  I called Hormel's
Accounting Dept. and told them the waitress said it was "two-fifty," and I did
not realize she meant $250.00 for a recipe.  I asked them to take back the
recipe and reduce my bill and they said they were sorry, but because all the
recipes were this expensive so not just everyone could duplicate any of our
delicacies...  the bill would stand.

I waited, thinking of how I could get even or even try and get any of my money
back.  I just said, "Okay, you folks got my $250.00 and now I'm going to have
$250.00 worth of fun."  I told her that I was going to see to it that every
gourmet will have a $250.00 recipe from Hormel for nothing.  She replied, "I
wish you wouldn't do this."  I said, "I'm sorry but this is the only way I feel
I could get even," and I will.

So, here it is, and please pass it on to someone else or run a few copies...  I
paid for it; now you can have it for free.

	(Trust me; this recipe is so good that you will want to make as much as
	you can at once, which is why I list so much.  This may be doubled, of
	course):
	1 pig carcass (all parts that are technically digestible but can't be
		used for any other purpose, even hot dogs)
	1 gallon castor oil
	1 salt lick
	1 gallon vomit
	16 lbs recycled plastic

	The cooking technique is simple.  Use a blender, branch shredder, or
	anything else handy to shred the carcass, salt, and plastic; mix evenly
	in a sufficiently large container.  There are a variety of ways to cook
	it; in experimenting, I have found the best option to be slow boiling
	in motor oil.  But the specific method of cooking doesn't matter much;
	with such an extraordinary combination of ingredients, nobody will know
	the difference.  When it is cooked, compress it into small tins (at
	Hormel, it came in dark blue tins with four large white or yellow
	letters -- I won't specify which four letter word, because there are
	some people who find it to be more obscene and offensive than a certain
	crude word for sex), and open and enjoy at leisure.  You don't need to
	worry about it spoiling; bacteria won't touch it, and at any rate
	there is a specific reason why it _can't_ go bad.  Makes at least 112
	tins.

Have fun!!  This is not a joke --- this is a true story.  That's it.  Please,
pass it along to everyone you know, single people, mailing lists, etc...

Oh, and one last thing I almost forgot...

I feel a little guilty for presuming to speak about how to best serve a
delicacy so wonderful -- the final word must go to gourmets and chefs with a
taste far more refined than mine -- but there are a thousand ways in which it
may be served, and, after a little experimenting, I really HAVE to share with
you my personal favorite:

	Open one tin; slice thinly.  Marinate in pesto sauce, with a touch of
	thyme.  Roast slowly over an open flame (I have found wood --
	preferably oak -- to work best), then THROW THE STUPID THING OUT THE
	WINDOW AND COOK YOURSELF A STEAK.