Mule meat

The sailors and conquistadors who "settled" Hispaniola 500+ years ago came from Andalucia in the south of Spain. The African slaves they imported learned their Spanish from these men. The two groups mixed their words as they did their genes and although the language has changed much in the five centuries since Dominican Spanish still bears traces of the Andalusian accent.

Andalucía: You can see why they were good sailors.

Specifically, Dominicans "comer" (eat) many of their letter "s": always at the ends of words and sometimes at the beginning or in the middle. Adios becomes adio' and estamos ("we are") becomes 'tamo', etc.

Hence the following joke:

A man from Barcelona, in northern Spain where they prominently pronounce their "s", is traveling through the Dominican countryside when he asks a campesino: 

"Excuse me, do you use the letter 's' in your Spanish at all?"

The campesino laconically replies: "Pue', má' o meno'."

The punchline is more completely pronounced "Pues, más or menos" and means "Well, more or less." 

The butcher in my pueblo doesn't work everyday. Like many campesinos he strings together a lot of small jobs to make his living. He only works in the carnicería when there is meat to sell and announces his presence by blowing a conch shell.

My office window looks out at the carnicería so I hear him every time.  One day I hear the conch and go to see what he is selling.

"Buen' día' senor, what do you have for sale today?"

"Something very 'pecial: carne de mulo (mule meat)."

"Really! People eat mule meat here? They don't do that in my pai' (pais - country)."

"Sí, it's the best meat."

I was a vegetarian for my entire adult life before coming here so I am not a meat expert. I have heard that horse meat is a delicacy in France so mule meat doesn't seem like much of a stretch. That said, it's really difficult to get around in the campo. Personal vehicles are scarce and some "roads" are so too difficult even to pass on an off-road motorcycle. Not matter how good the meat, it seems like a waste to kill a mule.

"But señor, isn't the mule a really useful animal for carrying things over the through the hills?"

"Sí, it is," he says, looking at my a little confused.

"Then why would someone kill it for the meat?"

He smiles and speaks more slowly: "I don't mean to say mulo (mule) but mulo de cerdo ("mule of the pig")." He pats his thigh emphatically.

I am by this point totally lost. He must read it on my face. Speaking even slower he says:

"Not mulo (mule) but Muslo (thigh): Mussslo de cerdo ("pig thigh").  THAT is the best meat."

One year plus off the veggie wagon I am inclined to agree.