Just a little too far?

Sometimes there are experiences of such enjoyment and extreme satisfaction that the only way extend the longevity of the moment is to share with others, in tales and stories. To take a memorable occurrence and bring a similar feeling of joy and excitement to another who wasn't present to the initial happening allows for that single episode to become universal. From the tone of the teller and the following glance of the listener, both can re-live (in their own ways) a single event.

But then, there are other escapades that unfold with such a unique and sometimes strange set of combinations, that it seems better not to share. As powerful as these memories may be, it can be difficult finding the right person with the right mind to accept and (hopefully) understand the actions of the troubled occasion.

We all do things that bring a slight tingle of shame to our minds. With the full knowledge of why, we can sometimes go against our convictions. Then there are the moments where we don't break any personal limits but we just take one step, or thin this case, one bite too far...

I love the pig. No question about it, no needed words of justification and certainly no shame in my enjoyment. Although I do think this delight has been taken to a new extreme.

I work in a cheese shop that is filled with tempting offerings on many decadent levels. In addition to the grand number of cheeses, the lovely pig plays a great part in the form of many salted and dry cured meats. Delicious merely begins to describe these offerings. For dealing with the meats, there is a somewhat dangerous but quite exotic machine of arranged metal with a rotating blade of severe sharpness, that we play and fine tune like some morbid instrument. With every use, I give full attention but no fear to the finesse of every slice. All it takes is a bit of pressure and the proper blade placement to turn a large piece of chewy aged flesh into a thin slice of majestic flavor. This is where interest transforms into obsession.

It really doesn't matter what time of day or what state of hunger I am in, if there is a piece of salami on the slicer, it will most likely soon be in my stomach. Even with a full belly of a recently consumed lunch, I can't pass up a post meal digestive of salty pig meat and fat. Thus, comes my initial thought of expression.

With each use of the meat slicer, there is a certain amount of shavings that naturally fall away. Much like the 'dust' that fragments off when cutting through wood on a band saw. With multiple cuts being done in a small amount of time, the shavings being to add up. When cutting something as soft and moist as smoked bacon, in all of it's tantalizing glory, there isn't so much meat that comes off in excess form, but rather thick fat. Working on a second piece of thick belly, the amount of natural fat that had built up along the back side of the slicer was becoming quite large. It looked like the most pure mass of rendered pork essence, for it was glistening and looking quite tempting.

I felt such an urge.

Eating raw bacon isn't something I usually do, but when I slowly swiped my finger along the trail of thick bacon fat, I just couldn't help myself. With a small teaspoon's worth of creamy lard just sitting, slightly warm, on the tip of my now trembling index, I didn't even think of consequences. Thoughts of new gelato flavors, different spreads for breads and a unique replacement for aioli crossed my mind. So pure, essential and...thick. It was untampered pork fat. Deeply memorable in a nearly provocative way of desire and submission.

Disgusting? Not really. Heavy? Quite. Worth it enough to share even with the threat of disappointment from those close to me? Absolutely.

I don't feel bad, but I don't expect for all to understand. For those that do, the next time the fat calls, here is to your health.