Pigs are creatures of intelligence who also happen to taste very good. A stuffed pork loin represents a thing of beauty. Thick cut pork chops cooked with butter and fresh sage are heaven on earth. Fennel sausage is a taste of divinity, and bacon can be combined with anything to lead one down the path to true enlightenment.
I have often declared to others that my favorite meat is pork. How then could there be a cut of pork that could confound my highest esteem for all things piggy?
First we must go back to my purchase of a bag of green split peas, inspired by a craving for split pea soup. In past iterations, I usually cook up some split pea soup whenever I am trying to use up the rest of a bone-in ham. The peas always stay bright green with some little, innocent, hammy chunks to give it heartiness.
Enter the picture, smoked ham hocks. I am a broadminded fan of nearly all cuisines and ingredients, so I blame my inexperience with hocks for what was about to transpire. Opening the package revealed four little ham hocks with skin on. A ham hock is the area above a pig's ankles and below the calves. With that thick Miss Piggy skin right there in plain sight, it was difficult not to mentally dwell on those hooves standing cankle deep in dirty, muddy filth. Severe gross out ensued.
Thinking too specifically on the origins of foods, especially where animals are involved, can make anyone squeamish. I usually chalk it up to the natural order of things...animals eat other animals has always been my belief on the subject. I have never grossed out over eating the crispy skin of a roasted chicken, steaming a trout with its eyeballs looking back at me or slurping up a whole raw oyster in mignonette sauce. Something about the ham hocks was different.
Ask any German chef about sauerkraut soup or any Southern Soul Food cook about greens, and they will tell you just how a ham hock renders goodness to these dishes. It is precisely the fat, collagen, tendons, muscle and bone marrow that dissolve into the broth to impart that earthy pork flavor. Therein lies my mental dilemma, as I fish out bones and bits of skin from this batch of split pea soup.
In appearance, the soup turned out typical - pea green mush with meaty bits and a few bay leaves. Even though it tasted sumptuously rich, perfectly salty and smokey, the image of piggy flesh disintegrating and melting away in a cauldron of soup could not be shaken. I was grossed out.
In appearance, the soup turned out typical - pea green mush with meaty bits and a few bay leaves. Even though it tasted sumptuously rich, perfectly salty and smokey, the image of piggy flesh disintegrating and melting away in a cauldron of soup could not be shaken. I was grossed out.
I felt somewhat disappointed in ham hocks, which I had always been lead to believe are a historic flavoring gem of magical proportions. I also felt disappointed in myself for not opening my culinary mind to allow myself to appreciate and enjoy them as an ingredient yet. If I am going to continue my reverence of all things pork, I must find it in my being to give ham hocks another opportunity to win my understanding and admiration. This will take some more research and probably extensive sampling of the cooking of those who know best about matters ham hock-ian.
Jilted pork lover that I have become, I anticipate very soon relearning the ways of ham hocks and reunifying my respect for the delicious pig.
