Here piggie piggie

Animal fat is magic. Cholesterol-laden black magic, but magic nonetheless. If you've ever had a perfect roast chicken with crackly skin or a really well marbled steak, this much is obvious. But oh, it gets better. Goose meat is stringy and tough; goose butter is worth it's weight in gold. Not to mention foie gras, one of the most expensive foods on earth, and more or less an exercise in tasty, tasty fat. But for me, the king of fats is pork. If all fat is magic, pork fat is Houdini.

You can go anywhere from Italy to my grandmother's house in Tennessee and find dishes that with this magic substance at their core. Without it, coq au vin is hardly coq au vin; pasta fagioli and soup beans (white or pinto, with cornbread or without) are just beans. Southern-style braised greens become the bitter scraps of an impoverished garden.

But pork fat isn't just a contributing ingredient. It's oh so very fine as the star. The first time I had a slice of real proscuitto di parma, blushed cheek pink and vellum-thin, I knew my palate would never be the same. The first time that delicate, unctuous fat melted in the heat of my mouth and spread salty-sweet over my tongue was much sexier than my first kiss. From there it was a short trip to pancetta and speck and soppressata, sauccisson sec, boudin and andouille, and a whole universe of artisinal bacon.

Tonight I made Kale and White Bean Soup with Smoked Sausage. Bitter greens and bland beans beg for the kiss of pork fat. Garlic, chili flakes and parmesan cheese add depth, but truly it's soul is in the sausage. A few chunks infuse the broth with smokiness and richness, temper the kale and tickle the beans into life. Not a bad feat for the the humble piggie.

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