I bloody love lardo; the way it melts onto your tongue almost before you put it into your mouth, the fat hit and flavours as it slips down the throat. I must order me some, soon. I’d written a little bit about it in this post back in 2017. Today, I came across this picture of lardo di Arnad being stored in a chestnut-wood box. It’s a thing of deep & wondrous beauty…
It’s simply made, from pork belly fat (read that again, PORK. BELLY. FAT) cured in rock-salt, rosemary, coriander seeds and black pepper for a period of around 6 months. Then served, equally simply as paper-thin slices on unsalted rye bread. An Italian man called Bonin, from the Aosta Valley slaughters just 3 pigs a year to make only around 30kg of this delight, which apparently has a delicate aroma of tannins from the wood. The boxes he hand makes during the long, cold, snowy, winter months, in his agriturismo, high up close to the Alps.
I wouldn’t mind this in my larder. If I had a larder. More on larders here.
That’s it for today, folks, just a quick teaser on the tongue.
You are, as always, very kind. And patently insane. But, we are the best therefore. I’ve had a word with Pullman. He’s promised to do better very soon.
The grinder issue? Get John to shave some excess wood off the work surfaces. For fucks’ sake, tell the man to make himself useful.
Oh Chris; unlike Philip Pullman you do not disappoint. He could take a leaf out of your book. 🤣🤣
I must confess I have some ancient kitchen tools. I had to retire the meat mince, the work surfaces are too thick for the clamp. 🙁
Gay x
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