Lardo di Colonnata | The fat that needs nothing

The pork fat that is aged in marble pools for months

I bought my first slices from Marco, the salumiere at the Saturday market in Marina di Pietrasanta, my town. A few euros, ten slices, on waxed paper. I walked home, tore off a piece of unsalted Tuscan bread, and ate the ten slices standing at the kitchen counter. No plate. No fork. Nothing else. When the slices were gone, I considered going back for more, and only the dignity of seeing this through twice stopped me.

The slices were almost translucent. White, faintly pink, the rind dark, the surface still grainy with salt and pepper and rosemary from however long they had spent in the conca, the marble tub, before being shaved off the block. They had no smell in the paper. Ten seconds on warm bread, and they had a strong smell. The pepper showed up first. Then the garlic, late and quiet. Then the fat itself, which is not fat the way American bacon is fat, or Hungarian szalonna is fat, or English back bacon is fat. It is closer to butter than to bacon, except that butter does not taste o…