Tonight, Tom is hosting a Thanksgiving dinner for about 20 of his youth kids. Like any good girlfriend, I offered to pitch in. He would bring home the groceries, and I would help cook them.
Of the dishes we were doing, I was most excited about the ham. To me, nothing quite says "the holidays" like a ham with a brown sugar and pineapple glaze. So, I prepped the ham, made the glaze and started it to cooking.
After a couple of hours, I decided to take a peek. I wished I hadn't. It was the ugliest "ham" I'd ever seen in my life: brown with random globs of fat here and there. Then, I cut into it and pulled it back to reveal the texture of a steak so tough that even Chuck Norris might have been frightened.
Like one of those horror movies, I started to have flashbacks to how it all came together: it wasn't in the usual elastic netting, it was an odd brown-ish shade rather than a pretty pink, and it was pre-seasoned with paprika. Then, the label flashed before my eyes: boneless pork loin.
I burst out laughing, relieved that the disaster was in the type of meat not my cooking skills, then called up Tom and relayed the story.
His response: "Eh, well, it's all from the same animal."
If that logic were true, I'd be serving pigs feet for dinner. Hey, maybe next year I'll try that ... or maybe I'll just stick with turkey!
Happy Thanksgiving, all!