Christmas must be near. My mom told me to “watch out” for pig feet. Why do you ask? Such a silly question for someone like me, who appreciates the only time of the year that I enjoy this “delicacy”.

Granted, I’ll admit that the oft-maligned porky treat doesn’t fall into the “delicacy” category for many except hearty souls who still enjoy a bit of “old country.” That would be Sweden and Norway for the uniformed ones, thanks. Unfortunately, my birthplace is Minnesota, but my gene pool can be found among the fjords. Pickled pork feet have been an integral part of our family Christmas for as long as I can remember.

I know there are variations to the recipe using vinegar and spices, but we are purists. The ingredient label rivals the shortest on record: pig’s feet and salt. There isn’t much of a recipe here. Pork feet (conveniently split previously by the butcher) are taken and boiled. And boil them. And boil them. Hours. You can start checking them around the 4 hour mark, but don’t expect them to finish. And what I mean by fact is that, by most standards, it’s considered very similar to Jello. Oddly enough, the resulting cooking liquid is LOADED with gelatin, as you’ll be able to see when it cools.

You might think that after a few hours, your feet should be tender. For the casual tester, a fork slides easily into the feet, fooling the novice into thinking they’re done. Experience has told me that this is not true. The next step proves this point.

Get yourself a kettle and make a brine solution with salt water. No prescription. Just a lot of salt. But not too much. Or very little. You know, just the right amount. Cool that down, put your feet (well, not yours, but the pig’s) in a bowl or bucket, and cover them with the salt solution. Throw them in the fridge behind the herring and the lefse. Take them out the next day and repeat the brining process, as the first batch of brine will usually have that gelatinous viscosity. try them. salty enough? Too salty? Adjust your brine solution accordingly. You know, salty enough. But not too salty. Put it back in the fridge behind the lefse, herring and lutefisk you picked up that day. The next day you are in business! You’ll find that what you thought were musky slime balls have turned into, well, firm slime balls. But delicious.

I have to admit that my mother, a brother and I are the only ones who eat these cartilaginous wonders. The slimy mix of tendon, skin, fat, and a small bite of real meat is a godsend. My brother loves to “suck a knuckle,” as he proclaims himself, and the inevitable toe jam gag is pulled out of the warehouse for the annual event (always by a non-believers in pig feet). from the rest of the family, happy to know that I am traveling a path that they do not dare to travel.

Mmmm… I can taste them now…!