One recent frigid weekend I found myself making a mixed braise. It all began because I had a craving for pigs’ feet. My husband, on the other hand, would rather eat almost any other part of the hog.
Eatin’ high on the hog. The hackneyed expression harks back to feasting on prime hunks of swine – butts and picnics and loins and chops – cut from the upper part of the pig. Today’s plan is to go low.
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