Today is "Birthday Day" at our office, which means cupcakes (with sprinkles on top!) to celebrate all the people with birthdays this month. I, of...Read More
Pork Rinds: A Cautionary Tale
Around our house we call them “red light foods.”
You know the ones… the stuff you just can’t have in the house because you’ll snarf your way through the entire bag/box/container/bowl until every last lick/bite/crumb is gone.
A few weeks ago, I took a reader’s advice and modified my Scotch Egg recipe by rolling the meatball in crushed pork rinds. They were delicious! Crispy, rich, totally satisfying. And, I thought, totally OK with my dino-chow plan. They include a moderate amount of fat and a really decent amount of protein. Awesome, right?
The problem was the leftover pork rinds. Everytime I wandered to the kitchen – every time – I ate a few pork rinds. Until, before I realized it, I’d eaten the whole bag. And dumped the crumbs from the bottom seam of the bag down my throat.
Hmmmm, I thought to myself, I really shouldn’t buy those. I can’t control myself when they’re in the cabinet.
[pause to mourn the loss of my newly-discovered affection for pork rinds]
I know! I thought to myself, I can measure them out into one-serving baggies and eat them one serving at a time – and not every day. I do that with Sunbutter. I’m sure it will work with pork rinds. I mean, jeez, I have a bag of Dove dark chocolates in the cabinet and I never eat those.
So the next time I went to the grocery store, I bought pork rinds, then I dutifully weighed out 1/2-ounce portions, and sealed them in individual baggies. Crisis averted.
When I went to my parents’ house for the weekend of July 4th, we made Scotch Eggs. And they bought their pork rinds in a big, plastic faux barrel. I ate almost all of them during the course of two days. Everytime I went in the kitchen, I grabbed a few until the barrel was almost empty.
When I came back home, I remembered the pork rinds in the cabinet and promised myself I would not eat all of them at once. On the day I traveled for the corporate overlords, I ate one serving on the plane. Totally reasonable.
Then for a few days I didn’t eat any. Success!
Until this Friday night, when I ate one baggie’s worth. Then another. Then another. Until, thankfully, all of the pork rinds were out of the house.
My lesson: I haven’t evolved far enough yet to have pork rinds in the house.
If you don’t have a similar pork rind problem, you might be glad to know it’s pretty easy to make pork rinds from scratch, which eliminates the stigma of eating food that’s delivered to you in a garishly-colored plastic bag.
Unless you’re me. If you’re me, you can’t eat them. At all. ‘Cause they make you an eating machine. Like this:
In related news: Last week, a FedEx driver driving a tractor-trailer choked on spicy pork rinds, lost control of his truck, and jackknifed it before coming to a stop in a muddy ditch. I guess that dude shouldn’t eat pork rinds either.