Sep 14, 2021
5 min read
Trotters
His grandfather swore by them. His grandmother would boil a brace of them in a large, scratched and battered, stainless steel saucepan for hours to render down the gelatinous feet and release the tender, melting meat. She served them with white cabbage to make as colourless and unappetising a meal as you could wish to see. If half the eating was done with the eyes this was a meal for the blind. The smell, mind you, was nothing to write home about either. By the time the…
