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

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

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 feet and salt. There isn’t much of a recipe here. Pork legs (conveniently split previously by the butcher) are taken and boiled. And boil them. And boil them. Hours. You can start checking them out 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 to be very much like Jello. Oddly enough, the resulting cooking liquid is LOADED with gelatin, as you’ll 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 your feet, but the pig’s feet) in a bowl or bucket, and cover them with the salt solution. Throw them in the fridge behind the herring and lefse. Take them out the next day and repeat the brining process, as the first batch of brine will usually have that jelly-like goo. 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 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 sinew, skin, fat, and a small bite of real meat are a godsend. My brother loves to “suck a knuckle,” as he proclaims, and the inevitable toe joke is brought out of storage for the annual event (always by a believer who doesn’t believe in pigs’ feet). from the rest of the family, happy to know that I am traveling a path that they dare not travel.

Mmmm… I can taste them now…!