In Praise of Pork, part IV: Chorizo

There are, apparently, more varieties of heavily-flavoured sausage that you could shake a stick at. (What is not clear, though, at time of writing, is why anyone would choose to do such a thing).

Turkey has its punchy sujuk, Bulgaria its lukanka.  Northern Africa its merguez, France its reeking andouillette.

And Spain tops them with chorizo, he said with not a shred of bias. 

No sirree.

(A note on pronuniciation: one of my food-related foibles* is being irked by people talking about chuh-ree-zo. Or worse, chuh-RIT-so.  Yes, I'm looking at you. Turn it in.) 

Cho-ree-tho. The first vowel nice and short, the last long.

That's how we say it, anyway.

I've mentioned elsewhere the prevalence of pork in Spanish cooking, and why it carried an almost symbolic significance as confirmation of freedom from Muslim dominance after the Reconquista. 

A favourite breakfast: chorizo with fried eggs, the sliced sausage fried until just starting to crisp up, the smoked paprika spiking the fruity olive oil.

That oil, now a vivid orange, used to fry free-range eggs until the yolks are still an oozing gold but the edges are crisping. As the Spanish say- con puntilla; literally-with a lace hem. Red and gold: the colours of la Rojigualda. Spain on a plate. Best served in bed.

Or on balmy evenings, eating in the garden- a salad of rocket and garlic and tiny tomatoes, the slices of  chorizo fried and finished in sherry vinegar then tumbled in, their heat starting to melt the pieces of sharp goats' cheese torn and scattered among the leaves. Add diced crispy potatoes for an autumnal version, or roasted peppers for sweetness.

Or flavouring  a thick, deeply-flavoured tomato stew of pork shoulder and carrots  and onions and garlic, hot with both sweet and hot paprika and smoked pimentón, nutty with chickpeas.

So many regional variations, so many elaborations on a theme. The pimentón a constant, of course. Flavours picante or dulce, sausages fresh or cured. So versatile.

Like I said, remarkable stuff.

Just don't call it churitso.


*Others include: the misappropriation of the word 'unctuous' and its propogation as dreary cliché; people who ask 'Can I get...?' or even worse 'I'm gonna get...' (what happened to 'may I have?'); wildly overdescriptive menus with flowery adjectives; the desperately unimaginative and predictable selection of beers in Indian restaurants. 
And so on.