Lying in bed at night I wonder: how can we make bacon and cabbage sexy? I should ask my wife, but she’s asleep. I’ll have to work this one out alone. But what is bacon? What is cabbage? And what is sexy?
One would imagine that it would be cooked lightly, with love. A little passion, like an Italian pancetta. That’s bacon, isn’t it? Italians know how to make things sexy. Doesn’t their charcuterie have sex appeal?
Perhaps we should drown our cabbage in luscious butter with pickled ramsons. That to my mind would take cabbage as far as it could go, grilled until almost black, barbecued like a steak, and then served with a light meat sauce made from chicken stock. Surely that is as cabbage should be? Something we can offer to every returning Irish emigrant, to show them we have changed. Our food is sexy now! Could we shout that, as they land is Dublin airport, hungry for a new Ireland?
Ham hock too is a type of bacon. For what is bacon but cured pork? The whole pig can be turned into bacon. Pig’s cheek, pork belly, pork loin: all is worth baconing.
I love ham hock and cabbage. But not the kind your grandmother cooked. Not the noxious type. You’ll never smell my cabbage. I blanch it for 60 seconds. That’s cooked as far as I’m concerned. Dressed with Irish rapeseed oil and tarragon vinegar.
Bacon and cabbage should always be sexy, they should always be there to remind us of our heritage, of our future. We don’t need it to take us to the doldrums. We want it to take us to heaven. Whatever way you cook your bacon and cabbage make sure it’s the best, that it springs from your very being.
Sexy for me means cooking things gently, with love. What does it mean to you? I should really go to sleep. Bacon and cabbage should not be a night-time concern. I should be doing other things. Such as sleeping. Perhaps.
