All things pig

Last week, I spent a lot of time trying to find out a US style smoked ham here in Hong Kong. Most places sold only "gammon" which by most definitions is closer to back bacon and is really salty, not something I think of normally as a ham.
Blame it on the famous quote, "England and the US are countries separated by a common language." After consulting with foodie friends in Chicago, I was convinced that gammon was not what I wanted. Until I called a German foodstuff company in town that makes its own hams, and they told me yes, I did want their gammon. And they were right: their gammon is what I always call a smoked ham.


I had more than enough ham; in fact, I didn't even use half of it. I'll use some in a few weeks, hopefully, when I can do a late mini Thanksgiving for two friends who are out of town: one in Paris, and the other who went back home to the Bay Area on holiday. I'll get a chance to fine-tune my ham and scalloped potato recipe for my mini oven and to correct my mistakes (Australian aged cheddar does not work well in this recipe, I learned too late.)
On another pig front, I assured people they would know which buzzer was mine for my apartment just by seeing it. Last year, a friend sent me a picture her boyfriend photographer shot in southern Indiana, of a little girl looking at a butchered pig for sale. Said friend did a homemade frame for it, with little plastic pigs on the edges. One fell off, and what better use could there be than to help guide friends to a feast that included pig?