PIG-HEADED infidels and lesser mortals often savor this silly notion: You are what you eat.
Thus, they pig out on delicious drippings off so-called pork barrel to the consternation of dirt-poor and pigsty-dwelling folks grubbing on less than P50 a day.
Some are wont to bring home the bacon and relish crisp-fried morsels lavished on such staples as carbonara or finger-suckin’ goodness of Boston baked beans. Some would like to ham it up in showmanship, go for such rare delight at $80 a pound as bellota jamon Iberico— produced from free-ranging swine foraging on cork acorns that infuse the meat with an opulent nutty flavor and tender texture.
Cordillera natives take pride in their inasin—salted chunks of pork hung upon the hearth to amass a symphony of flavors from whatever’s cooking, why, even a frugal slice added to broth or brew can whip up a bit of ambrosia, transform frugal fare into a feast.
We can go easy on pig knuckles culled off pata negra—ah, the meat off those mountain-dwelling free range porkers are just heavenly-- with a side dish of sauerkraut, that is, pickled cabbage as counterpoint to the lush flavor.
Dig out the humba or hong ba, that wickedly sinful braised pork belly dotted with salted black beans (tausi), salted bean cake (tahure), cinnamon, Ilocos garlic, oregano, star anise, and some plus a drenching of soy sauce and vinegar in a clay pot, cured by burying the pot in soil and left undisturbed for up to six months.
Ah, the alimentary joys proffered by the porcine breed on whom we cannot strew pearls lest they trample it with their cloven hooves. And there’s also the likelihood of an exorcist driving legions of demons off the demon-possessed amongst us, why, those demons will likely find sanctuary in any nearby piggery or hide themselves inside cans of pork and beans in a supermarket shelf.
So, we just might end up devouring demon-flavored carne de cerdo rather than subsisting on the national food staple instant noodles, still at dirt-cheap P5 a packet.
We can allay our fears, hush our qualms with the silly notion that we are what we eat. Thank heavens for our porcine brethren who give up their lives to ease our hunger, nourish us with transfatty acids and that baddy LDL cholesterol.
By the way, a pig’s orgasm lasts up to 30 minutes. We can affirm that we are what we eat.
We’re really having a hideously great time with our sex lives.
Thus, they pig out on delicious drippings off so-called pork barrel to the consternation of dirt-poor and pigsty-dwelling folks grubbing on less than P50 a day.
Some are wont to bring home the bacon and relish crisp-fried morsels lavished on such staples as carbonara or finger-suckin’ goodness of Boston baked beans. Some would like to ham it up in showmanship, go for such rare delight at $80 a pound as bellota jamon Iberico— produced from free-ranging swine foraging on cork acorns that infuse the meat with an opulent nutty flavor and tender texture.
Cordillera natives take pride in their inasin—salted chunks of pork hung upon the hearth to amass a symphony of flavors from whatever’s cooking, why, even a frugal slice added to broth or brew can whip up a bit of ambrosia, transform frugal fare into a feast.
We can go easy on pig knuckles culled off pata negra—ah, the meat off those mountain-dwelling free range porkers are just heavenly-- with a side dish of sauerkraut, that is, pickled cabbage as counterpoint to the lush flavor.
Dig out the humba or hong ba, that wickedly sinful braised pork belly dotted with salted black beans (tausi), salted bean cake (tahure), cinnamon, Ilocos garlic, oregano, star anise, and some plus a drenching of soy sauce and vinegar in a clay pot, cured by burying the pot in soil and left undisturbed for up to six months.
Ah, the alimentary joys proffered by the porcine breed on whom we cannot strew pearls lest they trample it with their cloven hooves. And there’s also the likelihood of an exorcist driving legions of demons off the demon-possessed amongst us, why, those demons will likely find sanctuary in any nearby piggery or hide themselves inside cans of pork and beans in a supermarket shelf.
So, we just might end up devouring demon-flavored carne de cerdo rather than subsisting on the national food staple instant noodles, still at dirt-cheap P5 a packet.
We can allay our fears, hush our qualms with the silly notion that we are what we eat. Thank heavens for our porcine brethren who give up their lives to ease our hunger, nourish us with transfatty acids and that baddy LDL cholesterol.
By the way, a pig’s orgasm lasts up to 30 minutes. We can affirm that we are what we eat.
We’re really having a hideously great time with our sex lives.
Comments