The Devil’s crackling.

A slightly shorter than normal update for this week. Mainly because my left hand is out of action following a culinary industrial disaster at Chez Hunt where a very sharp Japanese cooking implement bounced off a piece of crackling being removed from pork for our favourite tea-braised ramen noodle dish.

I wouldn’t mind, but a couple of weeks earlier I also lost a filling to an over-hard piece of crackling during the traditional family Sunday roast. Upon inspection by the dentist, the abscess-ridden tooth could not be saved and had to be yanked out leaving a portion of my gums looking like the Somme after a two-day artillery bombardment.

I think the Gods of Fate are trying to tell me something about avoiding pork in general and crackling, specifically.

What next? I try a hog roast in the first outdoor pub trip garden visit for a year and subsequently choke to death, or get a piece of crackling embedded in my brain-stem?

A song floats to mind.

Stupid Deaths, Stupid Deaths
They’re funny ’cause they’re true (Woo!)
Stupid Deaths, Stupid Deaths
Hope next time it’s not you! (He Hee!)

It’s enough to send a lazy carnivore vegetarian!