Tuesday, August 12, 2014

Waiting to eat

In late May there was a bunch of mugwort, picked in Prospect Park. 

There was a pork jowel. I decided to turn it into guanciale, with mugwort, and spicebush.

I hung the pork from the cathedral ceilings, where it had nice airflow and some company, and where it upset esteemed readers, like Clark.

And then last night, after two months, it was time. 

I wanted to make a very simple pizza, using sourdough. Slices of the pork. Sage from the terrace. And a flurry of fine parmesan.

So that's what I did. 

And we ate the best pizza ever, on the day that Robin Williams died.


  1. I'll second that last comment! Sounds like it tasted pretty good also.

  2. :-) (because there is no lip-smacking emoticon)

  3. Looks delicious. I'd love to see a photo of the cut slab of guanciale. What is the cookbook you show in the second photo, asseblief (she says in her very rusty, almost completely forgotten, alas, Afrikaans)?

    Nancy Mc

  4. Bless him. One of those spirits too big for the human form to contain...so sad.

  5. Marie, this looks absolutely mouthwatering! Yummiiiii, nothing better than fresh herbs right out of the garden! Oh, still smell yours!
    All my best from an Austrian gardener and a happy happy time


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