It's so sweet. Bill's found this butcher out in Wasatch Hollows that he's been going to the past couple Saturdays. Now, yes, of course, we don't need that much meat. But I think Bill knows that. (Does he know I'm thinking of trying to be a vegetarian for my New Year's resolution? Doubt it.) He brought back pork belly the other day. That ain't gonna happen. But he's not going there just to get random stuff we don't really know how to cook or don't particularly want to. He's going there for some kind of...camaraderie. Or, actually, that might not be the right word. The butcher's quite a bit older than Bill — I'm picturing him in his early seventies — and I think Bill just likes listening to this guy go on and on with his little sayings and stories. He's been going and spending a couple hours out there...just talking. They chew on cigars (cigars!) and talk about the way things "used to be"...like Bill knows how anything used to be! But it's sweet that he wants to.

Bill's kind of a sucker for this angle, so this new friendship doesn't surprise me. He's always talking about how, "in Lincoln's day," the men would hang around the telegraph office all the time and chew on cigars and chat about what's going on that day...tell stories, etc. (Of course, during that same time, the women were at home with the kids — washing, cleaning, cooking...ONLY. But, no need to rain on his romantic parade of the past.) Bill wishes men still did that kind of thing today. And I think he goes to the butcher on Saturdays to tap into that. Sure, I always want to see more of my Bill, but I get it and think, again, that it's cute. He gets kind of giddy after breakfast on Saturday, knowing he's about to head out to the Hollows. I noticed he changed his shirt twice before leaving last time...each time, the shirt got more "country"; eventually, he settled on an old flannel I think he got from the compound somewhere. I thought that was adorable. He doesn't want to seem to "new school" in front of the butcher. He's tapping back into his rural roots, which I think is cool. Everyone needs to check themselves a little bit and make sure they're not "progressing" a little too fast. I think that's a really great instinct. Plus, with Bill, goodness knows the older men in his life haven't exactly been great role models, so...if he takes some good from an old timey butcher he found on the side of some back road, so be it.

The butcher's a Southerner. His name is Kenny Trollinger. He's from Arkansas somewhere, and I assume that's where he honed his skills — not to mention his home-grown nonchalantness that Bill seems to love so much. He smokes unfiltered cigarettes in between gnawed cigars and he has wooden crates standing on their ends scattered around the place where people like Bill sit on while they chat. He has an arsenal of knives so sharp I don't want to think about them. Bill stole a quick cell phone picture while Kenny was in the back (Kenny "ain't got no use for cellular nothin'," I'm told) and the place does look prety amazing. It has a wooden floor and what looks like, well, maybe it looks like a telegraph office with meats hanging everywhere. I don't know. But it looks pretty grizzled. And I know Bill's happy when he goes there. So, I'm happy. Plus, I think I made a pretty good little appetizer dish (non-vegetarian, of course) that I'd like to share with you. (I think I made it up, but I probably didn't. I don't know. Don't jump down my throat if I didn't. Maybe I picked it up somewhere along the way...) It's kinda seasonal. It involves pears:

First, get some really good pancetta from Kenny or your local equivalent. I guess, IF YOU'RE ALL UPPITY AND 21st CENTURY-LIKE, you can just go to your deli at the grocery store. But start with the pancetta and fry it up in a skillet on the stove. Be careful, though. It's so thin, it doesn't take long and it can get kinda smoky. Then, slice up a few pears so each piece acts like and looks like a medium-sized cracker. Spread some goat cheese on that fruity, little makeshift cracker. Next, put your pancetta on the cheese and pear combo and drizzle a little honey on top. Do that for each one and share them with your friends and family. I promise, if they eat meat, they'll like it. It's a great combination of sweet, salty, and fruity. Try it and let me know what you think.

Gotta run pick up my car from the shop. Boo. Hope I don't have to sell my house to pay for it! Talk soon.