Bacon

Have I mentioned the food here? One morning I slipped past the sentries and made a mad dash to the studio, skipping breakfast after a large, heavy dinner the night before. I knew this was a mistake, I half expected my host mother to come after me with a rolling pin and chase me back home. But little did I know what I was getting myself into.

When lunch rolled around I made my way back home and into the kitchen were I found a very unhappy woman. I sat on my tiny stool, tucked my legs under the table, all the while with a mischievous smile on my face. She was not amused. She pulled out bread, onions and……. how do I describe it?

Let me digress, there is a room off the kitchen that I have come to fear. It is a root cellar of sorts. Two refrigerators sit in the room but are hardly used. The widow is left open and the cold air is sufficient enough to store food. The room is filled with canned goods. Mason jars line the walls on row after row of shelf. From time to time she we'll appear with a plate full of freshly baked, sweet goodies; homemade donuts rolled in confectioners sugar, iced ginger bread. But also from this room come mysteries in dairy and meat.

Today's mystery was what appeared to be fat back. A long slab of hide. The top was clearly skin; yellowed and wrinkled by time. Underneath was ¾ of an inch of grey white fat followed by a thin line of a burgundy. Followed by another ¾ of an inch strip of fat. The bottom was, what appeared to be, leather. Leather that is dry and worn; thin but I had to saw through it with a knife (yes I tried it).

I thought I was being punished. I sliced the onions (small onions, home grown, of course) and ate them with the bread I was supposed to eat the hunk'o'hide with it. To my surprise the onions and bread are a nice combo. Fortunately she heated it up some soup so I was able to pass on the fat jerky for the time being. But not for long.

The slab of flesh was brought back out and they insisted I try it. I cut off a small piece, to their amusement and in my mouth it went. It is what you would imagine, greasy and salty with that chewy constancy that almost dissolves in your mouth. If I could have spit it out I would, but as they watched I choked it down with contorted revulsion and said "NU!", hands waving, head shacking. Romanian bacon, raw, who knew. Who needs the FDA.