As long as I can remember, I've had a fascination with feet.
I can still remember Betsy Coleman in the Blair Jr. high school band in Norfolk, Virginia, with her white cotton socks and saddle oxfords. A shiny pair of leather boots stepping down Michigan avenue often causes my head to spin, not to mention a nicely pedicured foot with polished toes glistening like ripe berries in a strappy pair of sandals. I saw Nigella Lawson recently at a book signing wearing the hottest pair of pink slingbacks and could not tear my eyes away from her feet.
Years ago in Maryland, I had the most delicious barbecued pigs feet ever. A big bowl full of menudo puts me in seventh heaven. One of my favorite Chinese places outside Dallas does a star anise scented, red cooked pigs foot noodle soup. I would rather have duck or chicken feet, dim sum style, than tenderloin any day of the week. One of these days, I will try my hand at making P'tcha.
I discovered a new foot preparation last night, at Gioco, on S. Wabash, in the south loop. It is a braised veal trotter appetizer and it is absolutely fantastic, but I don't imagine that they are selling out of this dish.
You get one of those oval au gratin type dishes with about five or six ounces of the chopped, braised, boneless veal trotters, in a silky, sexy, lip smacking, smoky sauce, reminiscent of an osso buco, with the long cooked root vegetable mirepoix and wine, but with a smoky element, perhaps from dried porcinis?...smoked jowl?... For dipping, scooping or whatever, you get some crisp, lightly oiled and grilled country bread. It was so tasty that my toes were actually curling...
I just have this thing for feet.
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