 |
| Lardo. |
I've been trimming slivers of fat away from the meat on my plate all my life. I take the time to carefully scrape away any white jelly-like blobs from the underside of crispy pork knuckle scratchings. Apart from a few well seasoned occasions, I find it simply interferes with the taste of the meat. Yes, it gives it a certain richness but it doesn't taste of anything significant. All it ever did was make the inside of my mouth feel heavy, like after eating lukewarm chips.
My mouth and tongue agree with me. Together, they work cleverly to chew only on the tender meat, avoiding any of the fat I couldn't avoid socially.
When the pig has been raised well, it makes a whole lot of difference. When the pork is very good, it's time to load up on the lard. Not to condition our bodies to any arctic weather but to re-condition our senses from what they have always known for it to be.
Good lard doesn't smell fleshy like a poor butcher stand. Although it is all fat, it doesn't smell oily like a bag of newly opened crisps does. It has a mild but definite sweet aftertaste and feels light in the mouth. Perhaps even lighter than butter. But that's me.
 |
| My favourite snack, is a savory one, from the southern parts of Italy. Goes excellently with beer and I found out later, it's made with lard, salt and pepper. |
 |
