Is it possible to make a pig’s ear out of a pig’s leg? In Teflon Man’s case, absolutely!
Now rumour has it, some people have immaculate, sparkly kitchens with work tops void of anything but tasteful-yet-essential utensils. (Or is that just on Pinterest?)
Not my kitchen.
No, not mine either.
Generally speaking though, there still tends to be room for me to cook and plate up amongst the tubs of peanut butter and tins of lunchbox goodies. There is still room for me to do my thing.
Or at least there was.
And then Teflon Man decided he needed to buy a leg of Serrano ham. Lidl was doing a special deal on them and who doesn’t like Serrano ham?
Yes, I like a nice slice of dry-cured ham… But when it comes in pre-sliced packets that fit so neatly in the fridge. Not when it’s a whole pig’s leg – complete with trotter – sat on the worktop in my kitchen!
‘Seriously, what are we going to do with that?!’ I asked, not unreasonably, I feel.
‘We can hang it up and slice bits off. It’ll last for ages,’ TM replied.
Those of you who’ve read my blog for a bit can imagine my overjoyed response to the prospect of having a porcine joint hanging in my kitchen for several months.
My kitchen is NOT some domestic version of Jamie’s Italian! What look great in a traditional charceuterie does NOT translate to the home.
Also not my kitchen.
I was even less thrilled when he told me how we only needed to wipe any bits of mould off and keep on eating it.
Considering how long the Independence Day mango hung around our kitchen before being binned I was increasingly concerned.
By the time he was showing me slicing methods on YouTube I was also pretty much convinced that there would be at least one trip to A&E in our future, quite possibly with severed fingers on ice.
‘It’s ok. My mum’s got a spare holder and knife for Serrano ham at home,’ he said. So, I put up with the damn leg on my worktop for a fortnight before the logistics could be sorted for its delivery. She delivered it on Saturday and Teflon Man set about its construction.
Experience has taught me to stay out of the way when Teflon Man is doing anything practical. There was a lot of banging at one point…and quite a few expletives.
Once it had all quietened down I ventured into the kitchen. There was no guarantee that Teflon Man would still be breathing, after all.
‘How’s it going?’ I tentatively asked as he wrestled with a screw and the main board.
He’d clearly not got very far.
‘Fucking piece of shit. It keeps splitting and there’s no instructions and this fucking screw doesn’t fit…’
He demonstrated how the screw was clearly too long for the thickness of the board so that the holder for the ham would never fix tightly. Plus the hole drilled for the screw wasn’t deep enough and had been done on the skwink.
It was making IKEA flat pack look like the king of all product design.
‘And the banging?’
‘Well, there’s a drawer and I didn’t know which way it went up, so I tried it this way [patently upside down] and it got stuck. So I had to hammer it out. And it split.’
‘But what made you think you had to put it in upside down. It’s obviously a drawer for holding knives. If you put it in upside down incredibly sharp knives are going to fall out, which doesn’t seem like a good idea to me.’
Seriously, this man has a degree. He has a job that requires a substantial amount of intelligence. And yet…
I took Boo to dancing and went shopping.
When I got back the ham was still sat on the kitchen worktop, rather than in its holster.
‘The board’s in the bin,’ Teflon Man dead panned.
And thus the ham is still sat on the worktop. The packaging had been opened slightly however as Teflon Man attempted to use the knife. I sliced a bit off.
It tasted disgusting!
And thus Teflon Man has indeed managed to make a pig’s ear out of its leg.
How long I’ll have to put up with the porcine disaster for is anyone’s guess too. *Sigh*