My Pal Prosciutto
There’s something about prosciutto.
Don’t you agree? The soft, smoky meat… those paper thin slices that just melt in your mouth… the salt lingering on the tip of your tounge… it’s enticing, seductive – perhaps even you might call it sexy.
I once had a friend who was OBSESSED with prosciutto – in fact, he loved it so much I think he bought a whole massive chunk of it wholesale – you know, like the kind they sell to Whole Foods and butcher shops – and slowly carved it, piece by piece. I don’t think my love is quite that intense – but I will make a 45 minute pilgrimage to the one Whole Foods on this island to purchase it. Yes, I could just buy it from the local supermarket, but I’d like my prosciutto without the DNA-unraveling nitrates, thank you very much. (Yet I haven’t switched over to nitrate free bacon. I know, I’m a little less than logical sometimes.)
So earlier this week, I made the journey over the (many) hill(s) to purchase my beloved cured meat. I walked into the mecca that is Whole Foods, and was immediately on sensory overload. I pulled it together and marched towards my destination – the deli counter.
When I ordered the prosciutto, the kind meat-slicing-man asked me what I was going to cook with it. “Uhhh… I’m just going to eat it..” I replied, slightly embarrassed. There is rarely any cooking that goes along with my prosciutto – it almost never sticks around long enough to be incorporated into a recipe.
And I was telling the truth. I had a feeling the prosciutto wouldn’t make it home with me intact – it’s just TOO far of a drive – and I was correct. Picture this: I’m driving my beat up car on the long and windy road back home, after a lengthy day and not nearly enough food. The smell of the coveted meat treat is leaking, oozing, wafting out of the protective packing – and I start to salivate. Soon it’s much too strong for me to ignore. I unfold my neat package of goods, and started to literally (my husband hates it when I say ‘literally’ when I’m not referring to something literary. Literally!) shove pieces of the delicate shaved pork into my mouth. The first bite was pure bliss – and I don’t stop. I bet you I could have eaten the entire package (it was just 1/3 of a pound) before I got home – but I somehow snapped out of the prosciutto trance, close up the package (no small feat with WF packing), and threw it back into the grocery bag.
Somehow, I still have some prosciutto, and I can’t wait until breakfast tomorrow, where I’ll lay slices over my scrambled eggs.
Who am I kidding? I’m eating some right now Go get some prosciutto.