The roman bacon was ready.
Unfortunately I had quite the time getting it out of my storage closet. I have lived in my apartment building for seven years. I have had a key to my storage closet kicking around solo for seven years. I have never lost it, or misplaced it, ever. When do I lose it? Yeah, that's right when I have a pig cheek hanging from the ceiling.
First, I searched. Nothing. Second, I fretted. That also did nothing. Third, I posted an ad on craigslist looking for a lock pick. Again, nothing. Fourth, I attempted to pick the lock myself from the oh so useful collection of youtube videos on lock picking. Can you guess? Nothing. But, as I am attempting to pick the lock, I notice a gap at the top of the closet! Is it possible? Will the cheek fit through? Eureka! My pig cheek is rescued!
And then my love affair began...
I danced around my kitchen after unwrapping my guanciale, oohing and ahhing. "My God, you are beautiful!" I exclaimed. "Oh my Lord, I think you are luscious!" I ran my fingers over the pork fat and it melted at my touch. I felt like the poet Petrarch who wrote 366 poems to a woman he had only just glimpsed.
How will I feel once I taste it?
I have big plans for this guanciale. A small piece is being used in the morning to make breakfast for my brother - it's his birthday. It will also become pasta carbonara. Having recently bought locally grown and milled flour I am also making the pasta. This will be a meal to remember and a post to look out for. My father might even get a chunk for father's day or at least a meal because I am not sure that he will know what to do with a piece of pig fat. Subscribe to my blog to learn the fate of my little pig cheek.
"Those who danced were thought to be quite insane by those who could not hear the music."
Shonagh writes An Offal Experiment - exploring the guts of food