the gift of pork

To my mind, nothing says love like the smell of bacon.  So it’s kind of ironic that having eschewed red meat for about eight weeks, a four-pound box of the world’s best arrived at my desk this morning. Benton’s Smoky Mountain Country Ham out of Tennessee is as artisanal as it gets: hickory-smoked by hand in small batches using a little wood-stove smokehouse. It’s the same process I experimented with last summer on my roof – without fear of the fire department unexpectedly showing up. Seitan be gone – I’m salivating in anticipation of a weekend with this little piggy.

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