"Even before Twelve Oaks came into view, Scarlett saw a haze of smoke hanging lazily in the tops of tall trees and smelled the mingled savory odors of burning hickory logs and roasting pork . . .
"The barbecue pits, which had been slowly burning since last night, would be long troughs of rose-red embers, with the meats . . . above them and the juices trickling down and hissing into the coals . . . John Wilkes, famed throughout the state for his hospitality, really knew how to give a barbecue.". . . At a distance . . . were the long pits . . . and the huge iron wash pots from which the succulent odors of barbecues sauce and brunswick stew floated . . .
"As the smell of the crisp fresh pork came to her, Scarlett wrinkled her nose."
- "Gone with the Wind" by
Margaret Mitchell, Chapter VI.