If you were to look at my old man's life resume, a laundry list of bullet points would be on display under the "Skills" heading. Among his wide and varied talents would be the following:
- Throat Punching
- Beer Drinking
- Marrow Extracting
It could be argued that both "Throat Punching" and "Beer Drinking" are hobbies rather than skills, so I'll focus on the last item in that list for now: Marrow Extracting. Or, to put it more plainly--sucking the fatty and unctuous meat-flavored butter from animal bones. Yum!
Ah yes, bone marrow. A delicacy that seems to be catching on in many fine dining establishments these days, but something that many cultures have been feasting on for thousands of years--or at least since the 80's.
I remember many a meal at our dinner table when I was a wee lad--before I discovered the joys of marrow consumption. My brothers and I were always instructed to give our leftover bones, from whatever we were eating, to my father. Then, with gustatory glee, my father deftly (and loudly) sucked the marrow from the bones of the creatures felled for our dinner: chicken legs, pork ribs, beef shanks, magical unicorn horns, etcetera etcetera.
Such behavior always seemed to leave my mother appalled, whereas I thought it was fairly awe-inspiring. As they say, the kalamansi doesn't fall far from the tree--I've taken quite a liking to the fatty, tasty goo found at the center of hollow bones. And for the longest time, due to my upbringing, I thought eating bone
marrow was the norm. But it turns out that (besides vegetarians) there
are those who are kinda grossed out by the whole idea of eating bone
marrow. Strange, that.
For example, my wife and I recently joined a couple of friends for an Italian dinner at a nice restaurant. One of the appetizers on the menu was "Roasted Bone Marrow"--which I immediately ordered with zero hesitation. When the platter of three-inch thick, oven-roasted beef bones (I'm guessing from the shank) arrived at our table, I gleefully scraped the gelatinous mass from their bony containers, spread the goo on some toast points and sprinkled on some sea salt and parsley leaves. It was good. Sinfully, deliciously good.
After a couple of delectable bites of the marrow-spread bread, I shook myself from my crazed carnivorous haze to find the rest of my table looking at me as if I had just eaten a baby. Sure, everyone had a taste of the marrow that night, but it seemed I was the only one who truly enjoyed that appetizer--I ended up finishing the whole thing myself (not that I'm complaining).
I guess eating bone marrow could be a cultural thing--not everybody grows up with a dad that inhales the innards of animal bones. And not everyone grows up with Bulalo, AKA "Bone Soup"--an incredibly easy, yet delicious, Filipino soup made from beef shanks and bone marrow.
Lucky me.