I got home last night, to the most wonderful smell. I can smell corn bread, and what’s that Yams, I think. Some kind of pork dish too! Cool! I don’t get to eat pork much anymore due to High BP. It must be a treat of some kind.
Hey honey, what’s for dinner? Oh I’m making the boys pigs’ feet for cleaning out the garage. Pigs feet? Pigs feet as a treat. Well they asked for it, she says. But pigs feet? I can’t get past that. Pigs feet?
My buddies Howard and Gerald are close on my heels. Hey something smells good, did you make enough for us. It’s pigs’ feet, I tell them. Cool, they go next-door and return with plates. But wait, its pig’s feet. Yeah, I haven’t had any since I visited home last, from Gerald. I love pigs’ feet man, from Howard.
Pigs feet?
Look I’m no stranger to southern cooking. My Moms from NC and my Dads from Tennessee. I’ll eat pork all most any way it comes. Bacon, sure. Pork roast, great. Hell I’ll even eat chitlins (that’s chitterlings for you Yankees). But damnit I draw the line, oh right above the knees. I don’t eat pigs’ feet, or chicken feet, or the feet of any animal.
Oh honey, I forgot to mention, I know you don’t eat pigs feet, so I made you a pork chop.
Now if you could just talk her into bacon-wrapped, sausage-stuffed pork chops. Of course, that’d like push your BP into stratospheric range. Forget I mentioned.
Pig’s feet? Pig’s feet? Pig’s feet? Pig’s feet? Bleah. I tried 'em once, never again.
Once, in a fit of pregnancy-induced hormonal madness, my wife, who grew up on a dairy farm, insisted that I go to the store and buy… brains. And cook them for her.
mmm… braaaaaaainnnnnnssss… not.
She came to her senses before I was done cooking them and made me throw them away, but still. Brains.
stuff, lemme get this straight. You’ll eat chitlins (ulp!), but not feet?
Coming from a Southern family myself, all’s I can say is, that ain’t right. Gimme a herd of feet before you put one inch of fat boiled gut on my plate.
Your mileage may, and given the adamance of your post - does - vary.
Full credit to the Mrs. on the backup entre, though. Cool on you both.
My mom made Pork Hocks one time. Same thing as pig’s feet, I’m sure.
It was the tenderest, most tasty pork I have ever eaten in my life.
She didn’t tell me what it was until later. Sneaky old lady.
UncleBeer You’re not right dude. Making fun of someone who loves pork. FallenAngel Just give me a bottle of hotsauce and a pot of chitlins and stand back. Of course my wife’s pronouced them off limits. In my defense, I didn’t know where they came from when I aquired the taste. But “pigs feet”, leave out all doubt.
Ginger I’m not sure, but I always thought hocks were that small peice on the end of hams.
Getting back to brains - if you like bone marrow, you’ll like brains. Most people obviously don’t once they find out what it is…
My brush with things foot-ish happened one fine Sunday morning at dim sum. I asked for a plate of some yummy looking meaty stuff, and it turns out that I really need glasses, because it was actually chicken feet. Now I don’t necessarily have anything wrong with eating chicken feet, but apart from the batter, there was NO MEAT. My friends were trying really hard not to laugh at my mistake, as I put on airs of knowing exactly what I’d ordered.
In my defense, I didn’t know where they came from when I aquired the taste. But “pigs feet”, leave out all doubt.