Eating pork and bacon and various other porcine meats cripples me somewhat through the illustrious medium of gout, but the guys at Grocery Eats make me think nothing of it with their pork in the park.
The thought of grilling an enormous fuck-off slab of meat to the point of deliriously tender deliciousness is just intoxicating.
For the meat, I may as well run with pork given how cheap it as at the supermarket these days since the sow crate thing. I should probably look into all my options for sourcing pork, but at this stage it’d be all about perfecting one’s technique. Once that’s sorted, then you bust out the choice cuts of meat. What to start with? Ribs? Something else?
As for the grill, this is something I’ll have to look into. The more easily available barbecues in this country seem to be those over-priced gas-powered monstrosities, and I don’t know that I want to cook with gas. Is it even legal to cook with charcoal in this country? Does anyone even make charcoal over here anymore?
I want to do this.
I have the anti-inflammatories.
Why do I think to myself “wow, that is a pretty cool tattoo”?
Because of three things, Ned, namely…
1. The detailing suggests it was done at a class establishment for persons of means
2. The design suggests they not only know their food but appreciate it enough to brand themselves with it
3. The gender ambiguity about the arm teases the mind about just how alluring this person could really be, because let’s face it: we’re all looking for financially-independent persons of obvious taste, good humour, healthy appetite, exquisite palate and the novelty that comes with not quite knowing how hot they really could be