A little off-topic, but when I was 16 I traveled in Europe for six weeks. We had three home-stays (four days each) with families, one of which was on a farm above the Danube river on a mountainside in Austria. They kept cows and pigs and during the summertime the two sons looked after the animals. They'd come in ravenous at lunchtime. One day I saw the elder one come from the kitchen to the table with a large cube of something white on a small wooden cutting board, along with a pot of mustard. He dug in with a knife and fork. I asked him what it was and he told me "fat". Yup, he was eating a slab of pork fat for lunch with some nice, grainy mustard.
Take that, Emeril!
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