A pig ear sandwich is a thing. Of course it is.
Mr. Walston and I went for tacos at Taqueria Los 3 Reyes. The man thinks he does not eat meat. Similar to my son, who at the age of four announced, “I do not eat meat. Only pig!” So he, the man, ordered chicken, which apparently, in this age, is not technically meat. I buy that, just as I buy that ketchup is a vegetable. I did not order chicken because THERE WAS PIG EAR ON THE MENU. He, the man, did take one teensy gnaw of the pig ear and was put off by what he called the cartilage, which I suppose it was.
Here comes the required rant, a prerequisite, not a perquisite, thank you, Mr Gingrich:
Why is the texture of ear offputting while we are fine with the texture of thigh? RHETORICAL QUESTION. DO NOT ANSWER. Anyway, I understand that some of us are accustomed to consuming thighs, but not ears. Should you decide to eat me, please do not discard any of the parts.
Now, back to business. With dedication. Wither the pig ear sammich? Were one in Mississippi there would be no need to wonder. Over there the pig ear is the best state sandwich, according to Business Insider.
In Mississippi, from what googling implies, the pig ear sandwich is not simply A thing, it is THE thing. Good on ya, pig ear sammich. Featured lovingly at The Big Apple Inn in Jackson, this sandwich is the money maker.
A big part of our mission here at the SFA is to document the stories behind the food and bring them to a larger audience. We’re stoked that an Associated Press article on the SFA’s documentary work has appeared in newspapers from the Washington Post to the New Orleans Times-Picayune in recent days. The article spotlights Geno Lee, the fourth-generation proprietor of Jackson, Mississippi’s Big Apple Inn. Lee was the recipient of the SFA’s 2009 Ruth Fertel Keeper of the Flame Award. If you haven’t seen it already, check out Joe York’s film about Lee, Smokes & Ears.
(Photograph of Geno Lee by Rogelio Solis/A.P.)
When a lovely flame dies and smokes gets in your ears, the sammich is ready! Please pass the mustard, Mr. Thang.