My first Charcutepalooza post is a retrospective before the storm, maybe even a lament that this viral phenomenon didn’t gain strength a bit earlier, when I was wrist deep in fresh, pastured pork. At the least, though, it got me to write this, which I’d been meaning to do for a while.
After a BBQ-filled upbringing in Kansas City and a Maruchan ramen-fueled four years of college, I caught a bug that turned into full-blown foodie neurosis as my adult life progressed. Skip forward a few years to 2010, when I decided the time was right to try to add a dose of reality to my gastronomic quests. I wanted to get my hands dirty and experience the farm to table process. Not a groundbreaking story, but important for me.