Adventures in Eating (and Drinking): The Cocido
“Pig snout? Sorry my friend, you’re in the wrong neighborhood for that.”
The butcher’s frank assessment rang in my ears as I exchanged money for a plastic bag of spare ribs and pig ears, scratching my head and wondering where exactly the right neighborhood for pig snout was, and if this was some kind of arcane butcher knowledge that everyone just knows by virtue of wielding a cleaver, or if this sort of thing is advertised in the mystery meat yellow pages and I just missed the memo.