On a glorious October day in 1972, North Carolina gathered an audience to publicly flex its barbecue muscles, declaring itself the eternal champion of outdoor, vinegar-based, slaw-topped, red pepper-flecked pork feasting.

No less a figure than Gov. Bob Scott held court before a host of 300 loyal and hungry subjects, assembling them on the west lawn of the Executive Mansion to deliver his proclamation like a king reading from a royal scroll.

From henceforth, Scott decreed, North Carolina would own the title of Pig Pickin’ Capital of the World — a jab at pretenders to its meat-scented throne. He signed the official document with his looping signature and gestured to the eight hogs roasting nearby.

“I … call upon all dedicated pig pickers to defend this exalted culinary title,” he proclaimed, “to the last bite.”

For eastern North Carolina, the pig pickin’ qualifies as a sacred gathering with traditions strictly followed: whole hogs, slow-cooked over wood fires lit at 0-dark-30, producing meat that’s self-served and splashed with barbecue sauce.

The concept of throwing a party around roasting an entire hog dates back at least 200 years in the South. It’s an essential part of any church fundraiser and a must-attend event for any politician on the campaign trail. So dominant is the pig pickin’ for hopeful candidates that, while running for governor in 1983, Attorney General Rufus Edmisten declared, “I’ve eaten enough barbecue. I’m not going to eat any more. I’m taking my stand, and that is it.”

But in 1972, Scott codified North Carolina’s status with all the official trimmings, all the formal bells and whistles. “Pig pickin’ is synonymous with good eating,” he proclaimed, “and good eating is synonymous with Southern hospitality.”

A formidable trio manned the grill that day:

• James Wright Jackson, a Sampson County farmer who held the title of NC Pork All-American in 1971 and would one day join the NC State Fair Livestock Hall of Fame;
• John Christian, an NC State food scientist who’d go on to help transform the state’s country ham industry;
• and Julius Radford, whom The News & Observer would later note “has developed quite a reputation as a pig roaster.”

One curious newsman followed Radford to his pickup, likely hopeful for some clue to his sauce secrets, but the grillmaster merely showed off an assortment of jars and bottles he had lying about.

“There’s some of all that stuff in it plus some sugar,” he said, “and that’s all I’m going to tell you about it.”

To add an exclamation point to his bold pronouncement, Scott ordered an invocation from Jim Graham, better known as “The Sodfather” — a towering, back-slapping commissioner of agriculture wearing a Stetson hat and size 15½ cowboy boots.

Graham did not speak so much as holler.

“O honored swine of North Carolina,” he roared across the lawn, “I toast you and all your kind forever!”

As Graham offered his salute, an all-female group of pork industry ambassadors known as the NC Porkettes presented Scott’s wife, Jessie Rae, with a framed picture captioned “Hogs Are Beautiful,” which no doubt took a prominent place on the first lady’s wall.

And for a final flourish, a poem written by Vickie Mooneyham of the Department of Agriculture was read:

Now if you are one who eats only steak and chicken
And you’ve never been to a real pig pickin’
You don’t know what you’re missing until you try
To pick that succulent pig under a clear blue sky.

No matter how self-evident, some truths deserve to be shouted, if only to show appreciation and give thanks for their certainty.

The hundreds on hand that day dug in knowing they inhabited a benevolent barbecue kingdom that had earned this boasting ceremony. As they wiped their chins, they must have gazed down at their plates and celebrated the treasure of their citizenship, dabbing at their bounty with a hush puppy.

Get your barbecue fix: Check out these 15 festivals and cook-offs across the state.