Before coming back to Los Planes de Renderos from the hills of Chalatenango, my husband purchased some pork meat. A woman in the neighborhood, Nuria’s mother, decided to sell the meat herself rather than sell the whole pig to someone else, as she’d make more money. Jesus told me he purchased 100 pounds of “pellejo,” pork skin, and says he wants to bring half of it with us to the states when we return (eewww, I thought to myself) – but it would be dried of course. He also bought some ribs, and a bit of lomo de cerdo, or pork loin. His mother made a recipe the other day and he’d hoped I could replicate it. She had marinated the lomo de cerdo in pineapple vinegar overnight, then pan fried it and placed it in a tomato-based sauce. Totally unconventional for this cut of meat, I know, since most people try to preserve its natural tenderness by oven-roasting it. Well, no ovens in either of our households, so stove-top cooking it is! Anyway, to get back to my story. While he went to go watch television I decided to put the meat in the marinade. About an hour later, my husband went into the kitchen and checked it out. Ok, the kitchen retard strikes again. He says to me “Me siento Verguenza” (I feel ashamed/embarrassed). And proceeded to take the meat out of the bag I had placed it in to marinate. Indeed, the Kitchen Retard had struck again. “Ni pusiste especies, nada,” he says to me (you didn’t put any spices in there or anything), and “Come iba marinar asi – no cortaste la carne,” (how was it going to marinate like this – you didnt cut it up). “Y seguro usaste la bolsa como guante para no tocar the carne,” he says (and I’ll bet you used the bag like a glove so you wouldnt have to touch the meat). Yeah, he’s right! Looking at the meat scene, I could clearly see the err in my ways. Really, what had I been thinking after all? How would the meat marinate, exactly, as one large clump with a couple of small pieces? And he knows me well – I DID use the plastic bag as a glove – I’m a pro at cutting chicken up now, but there are moments where I cannot stand touching raw meat, so I felt so clever using the bag as a glove last night. The meat is happily marinating itself in the fridge now, and we’ll see how the dish turns out.
My Husband Knows me Well Leave a comment