Last night I ate--despite the fact I have suffered through years of finger wagging, and looks of consternation from my physician about my cholesterol--pork rind risotto. I can't say for sure how many calories or how much cholesterol was stuffed into this dish, but I'd wager that there were no less than thirty million calories, and a lifetimes' worth of bad cholesterol. Remember how just yesterday I was crowing about how mamposteao was the best rice dish I had ever tasted? Well, I'm very sorry, mamposteao, but you are now being relegated to the number two spot. The new winner is Risotto de Chicarron, a rich (no surprise given that it's filled with pork fat and cheese, and God know's what else--probably butter, ten egg yolks, and Crisco, with my luck) creamy dish, that tastes like a grown-up version of rice and cheese. The owner of Ropa Vieja brought it to us with his compliments (hard to believe, I know, but this was before the dish ropa vieja arrived, with a side order of mamposteao), and I swear on a stack of bibles that I had planned on taking just a tiny taste, as to not seem ungrateful for this lovely gesture, but after that first tine-full, I was like a feral cat on a can of sardines; there was no way I was not going to make short work of the entire, delicious dish, then afterwards lick my chops, and wish I had more.
Today I am planning on drinking at least sixty gallons of water before dinner in the hopes of somehow washing away some of the damage I have done to my arteries since arriving in Puerto Rico on Wednesday. But of course it is our last night here, and having only gained thirty one pounds in three days, I really want to make it an even forty before lift off tomorrow. Given my track record this past week, that shouldn't be all too difficult.