My beef with pork, of the rind variety...

WARNING: Do not read if you have a weak stomach, or if you are hungry, or if you actually like pork rinds...in fact, if you like pork rinds, maybe you and I shouldn't be friends.

Product : Pork rind obtained from sound pig carcasses that have been declared fit

for human consumption by a competent authority.
(actual comments from a website about pork rind manufacturers)

When our oldest daughter was about six months old we moved to Groton, Connecticut for three months. Clark was completing Submarine Officer Advanced Course--a school that prepares new officers for the fleet. Since we only had one, small child we accompanied him and stayed in his living quarters, a big 6 story hotel (converted extended stay) called the Susse Chalet. It was a typical hotel. We lived in this room for three whole months from January to April...it was very bleak and cold outside--but we took advantage of our time in New England and took every opportunity to see Boston, New York, Newport, Providence and Mystic. We really had fun while we were there but missed some of the niceties of living in a home. We took our own comforter, watched a lot of TV, played A LOT of Dr. Mario (we brought our Nintendo and computer), did our laundry in the basement and ate two meals a day out of a dorm sized fridge in our room....thats a lot of PBJ's and bagels. We ate dinner each night at the Mess Hall on the base. We went the same time every night and ate in the officer's room to avoid being stared at by all of the single men in the cafeteria. Dinner was usually a lame salad and some very middle-school-lunchesque meal...but we sat and watched Simpsons while we ate. It was truly an experience. (Even though is was far from even a 1 star restaurant it somehow managed to satisfy my need to eat out regulary, though we ate out in town every opportunity we could manage.) Needless to say, we craved home cooked meals in a real kitchen...for three months.
We jumped at the opportunity to visit a good friend that my husband worked with here in Houston. He is originally from Boston and we love the man...a true Bostonian through and through. He was going to be in town for the weekend and invited us to join him for dinner at his parent's house on Sunday evening. We were so excited...we were starving...
We made the 1 1/2 or 2 hour drive to the Boston suburb, trying to tame our imaginations the entire way there of what scrupmtuous meal was being prepared and laid out for us at his sweet, mother's house...no doubt a grandmotherly type Martha Stewart slaving over her quaint New England gas stove making hearty clam chowder and fresh rolls.
We were warmly greeted by Mr. G (that really is what we call him) and ushered ourselves into the house, our grumbling tummies expecting the heavy aroma of home made something...but alas, it was not so.
His mother, though a very sweet and friendly lady, had leathery old smokers skin and a voice lower than her burly son's. We made idle chit chat while Clark and I wrang our hands waiting in anxst for our meal to be revealed.
Then she brought out the peanuts. We dove into them. And when she brought out the heaping bowl of pork rinds, we devoured the rest of the peanuts. That was it. That was what we drove two hours for in the dark New England night? Our neglected bellies ached for the fill of home cooked goodness and we were offered light, fluffy, pig carcass. I don't want to eat something that at some point had to be inspected to be "declared fit for human consumption". I like to stick to food that is "obviously for human consumption...no questions asked." While obtaining the picture for the top of this post I came across horrid inscriptions that left my head realing and my stomach queesy..."pork cracklings"....huh?....and a link to something called Celiac Sprue Disease...stop, just stop...I suggest sticking to the good hearty crunch of a Dorito or Ruffles with Ridges...but come on, pork cracklings, animal skin, really?
In all fairness, Mr. G did proceed to take us out for amazing Calzones at a little pizza take out place. Truly the best calzone I've ever tasted....but at the price of a bitterly disappointing day. The icing on the "pork rinds", so to speak, was when we were walking out the door she slapped her forehead and apologized profusely that she had forgotten to bring out the salsa...the dear woman...is that why she assumed we didn't touch the deep-fried pig by-product? As my mother would say, "Bless her heart"...and bless our bellies.

Radish and Fried Pork Rind Salad
Whatever you do, please, please...don't forget the salsa.