There's Nothing Boston About Pork Butt

Madame's Nightshirt
Mrs. Peperium

Just the other day, Patum Peperium's good friend, The Maximum Leader reminded me that about a year ago, he and I engaged in a delightful discussion of bacon, hams, and ham pillows. To those not in the know, Maximum Leader is our pig man.

A few weekends ago, I found myself completely surrounded by pig. 30 lbs of Boston butt to be specific. I had cooked it very slowly for many hours and it required shredding. Mr. P was keeping me company in the kitchen discussing George Washington as I shredded away. About 5lbs into it, I looked up at him and said, "I need The Maximum Leader." Mr. P agreed and promised if we ever cook 30lbs of pork butt again, Maxy will be an honored guest.

So you ask, why was I cooking 30lbs of pork butt? Because my 5 year-old son requested it. And when a man (no matter how old he is) asks a lady (again, no matter how old she is) for something that is within the realm of possiblity and does not violate the teachings of The Church, well, honor and duty dictate that the lady must do it. She must, at the very least, give it the old school try. Which I did as the occasion was Little Bertie's 6th birthday party. Little Bertie turns 6 in a few days. But his best friend moved away 2 weeks ago. Since I knew when it came time to throw him his birthday party the friend he would want to be there most would be his best friend, we moved the party up. Way up to before his friend's departure back to where his parents hail from; Boston. This turned out to be the right thing as the rules of polite society demanded I needed to throw his parents A Welcome party. And I was 2+ years past due on that social obligation. You see, it turned out that I knew Little Bertie's best friend's dad as I had worked for Little Bertie's best friend's grandfather back when I lived in Boston more than 20 years ago. In fact, I can most distinctly recall being at the agency Christmas party at The Havard Club, all decked out in my Christmas finery with my female friends from the agency, who had almost all been debs, getting pelted with salted nuts and olives from Little Bertie's best friend's dad. He is 10 years younger than I am so he was in the height of his naughty pre-teen days when he, his brother, and a whole bunch of the other sons of the agency bigwigs of similiar age, all clad in blue blazers, grey flannels, and diagonally-striped ties spent their time at the party cleaning the bars of their condiments hiding behind wrought iron railings and pillars trying to bean us. Truth be told, they were aiming for our Boston butts and a few times they did manage to hit their targets. Even as we were doing the Lindy, The Continental, and the Foxtrot with attractive and well-dressed men out on the dance floor. If you do not think I haven't had fun with that recollection for the last 2+ years, then you just don't know me. At all. But I digress...

We asked Little Bertie what he wanted for a party. He asked for a barbeque at our park with pulled pork and coleslaw sandwiches, chips, corn on the cob, potato salad, pickles, and Coca-Cola. In other words, a good ol' boy fete. He also wants a blue Mustang with a big white racing stripe down the middle of it, but again, I digress. At first Little Bertie wanted a coconut birthday cake. Then he changed his mind and wanted a chocolate cake made from the cake pan he gave me for my birthday. When he gave me this cake pan, he said it was for me to make all of his birthday cakes for the rest of his life. Very sweet, no? Well yes and no. It is a train-shaped cake pan that makes 9 individual train cars including an engine, tender and cabboose. this meant making 40 little chocolate cars (we ended up with more than 50), ice, decorate and then put them all in a real car and drive them down to the lake. Ok...this is offcially the stuff that makes mothers go nutty. I figured if I was going nutty, then the children were going to go nutty right along with me. They were both enlisted to bake the cakes, cool and then freeze them until the evening before the party. Then, the morning of the party, together we made a chocolate glaze and glazed the cakes. Once they saw the huge amount of cakes, they agreed that piping individual details on each one with a pastry bag would be too much. I gave them each a large bowl of m&m's and let them go to town decorating. The cakes made it safely to the park and were eventually devoured, after the Boston butt naturally.

Mr. P is a Boston butt expert. Seriously. For many years he ran the Open Pit barbeque sauce advertising account. Open Pit is (or was) owned by Vlasic and yours truly was on the pickle side of the business part of the time Mr. P was on the sauce side. At one point the barbeque sauce ad manager decided Mr. P needed a deeper understanding of barbeque. He took him (and a few other agency people) on a 3 week tour of our country's best barbeque joints. They toured barbeque joints by day, sampling their wares, and by night stayed in the area's finest resorts and hotels, sampling their best liquors and room services. Mr. P will still occasionally wax on about that most glorious boondoggle. For those of you not in the know, there are 100's of different variations on barbeque. It truly is a regional thing as Mr. P always instructs. Mr. P likes almost all kinds of barbeque but his favorite is North Carolina-style barbequed Boston butt and he has passed this love on to his son. The key ingredient the two of them tell me, is the vinegar.

For the party, I did (but Maxy will know if I really did) a North Carolina-style barbequed pork sandwich complete with a coleslaw topping, but, strangely, the recipe originated from a farmer in Iowa. Mr. P and Little Bertie loved it. So did the Princeton and Yale Med school-educated heart surgeon dad who consumed 3 of them. Most of the dads ate 3 sandwiches. The dad who pelted salted nuts at me in his youth enjoyed 4 of them. Men just love pork butt. Especially this one as it was cooked in a tomato-vinegar-lemon broth until it fell apart. I cooled it and then continue the shredding process and placed back in the thin sauce, jazzing it up ever so slightly to taste. I refrigerated all of it over night which allowed for degreasing the next day as I'm not interested in killing off Mr. P. Pork fat does have a knack for going straight for a man's heart in more ways than one. I did add whole allspice berries (removed before serving) and molasses to give it that old New Enlgand kick. And according to all of the men, it truly kicked. :

Barbequed Pork Sandwiches from Farm house Cookbook

6 lbs Boston butt, trimmed of excess fat and cut into large pieces, or left whole if you wish.
3 cloves of garlic, peeled and minced
1 1/2 cups of tomato juice
1 can (28 ounces) plum tomatoes, chopped
1 bay leaf
1/2 cup distilled white vinegar
1/4 cup freshly squeezed lemon juice
1 medium onion, peeled and minced
2 tablespoons dark brown sugar
6 tablespoons Worcestershire sauce
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/4 teaspoon cayenne pepper
1/2 heaping teaspoon ground cinnamon

Rub the pork all over with the minced garlic. Place it in a large heavy stockpot, and add the tomato juice, the tomatoes and their liquid, the bay leaf, and a 1/4 cup of the vinegar. Bring to a boil over medium-high heat. Reduce the heat to medium-low and break up the tomatoes with a wooden spoon. Cover and cook, turning the meat occasionally, until it is very tender and about to fall apart, about 3 hours.

Add the remaining 1/4 cup vinegar, and all the other ingredients to the pork, stirring them into the juices. Cook uncovered, over medium-low heat until the prok shreds easily and has absorbed most of the liquid, another 3 hours. Stir and turn the pork every hour so it cooks evenly (if you've cut the meat up into pieces this cooking time is very negotiable) in the juices and does not stick to the bottom of the pan. Stir frequently towards end of cooking time to aid shredding process. Remove from heat and shred whatever large pieces remain, if any. Serve immediately or refrigerate overnight, remove excess fat and reheat.

Along with the sandwiches there was a potato, corn, cherry tomato salad with a fresh basil vinaigrette, cold blanched green beans in a fresh dill vinaigrette, chips, and a tub of iced Coca-cola and a tub of ice Labatt's Blue and Canadian Ale in cans as that was one of the accounts I worked on for Little Bertie's best friend's grandfather all those years ago. And country music playing in the background. After the birthday cake, 7 watermelons rubbed down with Crisco were tossed in the lake. All the kids and the dads chased them around. The mothers stood on the shoreline laughing.

I overheard one dad telling his sons I was a deranged woman. But he added, "The good kind of deranged." Which was fortunate as I might have asked Little Bertie's best friend's dad to bean him with one of the watermelons. And since it does not violate the teachings of the Catholic Church to bean someone with a Crisco-covered watermelon, he would have been duty-bound to honor my request. For purely old time's sake you understand...

UPDATE : The Maximum Leader has much more on the pig.

Comments

[The Maximum Leader]

I will do my best to attend any barbeque to which you would choose to invite me.

I have to say that I don't have a particular favorite style of barbeque. It depends on my mood mostly. Of late I've just been smoking pork ribs after brining them and letting them absorb a fragrant rub. I know some North Carolinians who would claim that the introduction of tomatos to a barbeque is akin to denouncing the The Trinity. Your recipe sounds great. I'll have to give it a try when Smallholder gets me my pig. (Which should be in a few short weeks.)

[Mrs. Peperium]

"I know some North Carolinians who would claim that the introduction of tomatos to a barbeque is akin to denouncing the The Trinity"

I knew I was running that risk but since I also had the shredded pork recipe from that Virginian resort with the underground bunker for Congress and it included tomato -albeit a thicker sauce, I decided to give it a whirl. I kept the sauce at a thin broth consistency like Mr. P instructed -may have even added some apple juice to aid in the broth consistency but you could always add a beer, I suppose. Since the Virginian resort included tomato perhaps it was Virginian barbeque?

By the way, what is the national dish of Virginia? If it is Smithfield ham, could you tell us the most popular as well as the authentic preparation? Thanks.

[Old Dominion Tory]

There are two methods for dealing with a properly cured Virginia ham. The ham will be between nine and twelve pounds and comes in a cloth bag.
The "traditional" method takes four steps:
1) Scrub the ham in order to remove as much of the salt as possible.
2) Place the ham in a large container, cover with cold water, let it stand 10-12 hours or overnight, and change the water every 2-4 hours.
3) Drain the ham, place it in a deep pot, skin side up, and cover it with cold water.
4) Cover the pot, heat to a boil, and reduce to a simmer. Simmer 20 to 25 minutes per pound.

The oven method is to scrub and soak the ham as in Steps 1 and 2 above. You then place the ham in a roasting pan, fat side up. Pour in water to a depth of about two inches, cover the ham, and place it in a 325°F oven. Basting frequently, roast the ham for 20 to 25 minutes per pound. Baste frequently. You'll know the ham is done when the flat bone moves easily.

Now, in both cases, after the cooking is donw, you remove the skin, sprinkle with brown sugar and other spices (or make your own glaze) and brown lightly in a 375°F oven.

One of my favorite uses of the Virginia ham is to make ham biscuits and then wash them down with mint juleps made with Virginia's own Virginia Gentleman Bourbon whiskey.

Hubbs' boiled and salted peanuts make an excellent snack to eat while you're cooking and/or mixing.

Also, unless a ham is made in Smithfield County, it cannot be called a "Smithfield ham."

[Mrs. Peperium]

Ok, to the sound of dueling banjoes, I make carmelized bermuda onions enhanced with a splash of good balsamic vinegar. Then split open the 1" diameter homemade butter, not Crisco, biscuits with a fork, place a slice of thin slice of ham, and a dollop of the carmelized onions on top... Pass with cocktails.

[The Maximum Leader]

ODT, has got the two primary ways of preparing a "country" ham (generally) or a "Smithfield" ham (specifically). I've always boiled mine. I also tend to soak them longer. Often for a day or two (changing water frequently). Then sometimes, after boiling, I've put them in the oven for a short time (after trimming the fat) with some sort of glaze to make a nice crust. Honestly, I only do that when "presentation" is important. The ham will "look" better if it has a nice crispy glaze. Frankly I think the glaze detracts from the ham. But sometimes you have to follow instructions from on high...

I too love the ham biscut. I am salivating just thinking about one. I could not put anything on my ham biscut. (Provided the ham was Smithfield ham.) I wouldn't mind getting a honeybaked ham and putting on the carmelized bermuda onions and a splash of balsamic. But that is a different beastie all together.

I don't believe there is an "official" state food here in Virginia. If there was I am sure it would be the Smithfield Ham. (Although peanuts might also rank up there. Also... I don't know why but Maryland seems to have cornered the crab market. Even though half of the Chesapeake bay is Virginia... We have great crab shacks in VA.)

As ODT points out, the "appelation" of "Smithfield" is tightly controlled - as well as internationally recognized. You may see "Virginia Style" hams or "Virginia Cured" hams in your local supermarket, but unless they were cured in Smithfield or Isle of Wight County, they aren't Smithfield hams.

As for the tomato in the sauce. As I said, I am moody when it comes to barbeque. I don't belong to a particular "school" of sauce. I do have a friend from the "North Carolina" school who does make a vinegar based sauce to drizzel over her cooked meat. I know she puts apple juice in to soften the acid of the vinegar. Alas, I don't know the other ingredients as they are a family secret.

[The Maximum Leader]

I should also add that I would be delighted if someone would bake me a train cake. It would be wonderful...

[Fr. M.]

Mrs. P., ODT and Leader,
I have enjoyed this post and subsequent comments tremendously, having gone to college in North Carolina and having been spoiled there with four years worth of wonderful barbecue.

ODT, you brought back some great memories. My father used to get a ham every Christmas from a farm in Wise County, Virginia and annually engaged in the preparation process you described.

Leader, I will gladly yield to your teachings on pork, but I must tell you that half of the Chesapeake Bay does not belong to Virginia. Maryland owns every drop of water in the Bay. Since the (cough, cough) War of Northern Aggression, the boundaries of Maryland have extended to the high water mark of the Chesapeake Bay and the Potomac River. Back in The Day, a couple of resort communities sprang up near Colonial Beach, Virginia (known as the 'Redneck Riviera')because restaurants could put slot machines on piers and they were technically in Maryland where gambling was legal. A few years ago there was a bit of a kerfuffle because Loudon County put a pipe in the Potomac to obtain water and Maryland got all crabby about it.

[Mrs. Peperium]

Honeybaked Ham? Surely Maxy, you jest? Honeybaked is for children. Why it's dipped in sugar!

The Detroit area is home to the largest population of Polish people outside of Poland -though all those Polish plumbers fleeing to France, England and spain may change this. Also, there is a very large German population. We may not have peanut-fed hams, but we have excellent local hams. There is one smokehouse that I go to, (which has become a dangerous undertaking and now send Mr. P) where your order your meats in either German or Polish. We have to do a lot of hand gestures but we usually get what we want. Then there's another much larger smokehouse (Dearborn) which makes great hams. We get an unglazed spiral sliced one and I glaze it with a mixture of mango chutney, garlic, mustard, brown sugar, orange juice, and orange zest. Bake until a gleaming mahogany brown and place on a willow platter surrounded by sliced oranges and greenery. Gorgeous to look at, gorgeous to eat. Ask anyone at our home on Christmas Eve.

Those hams are the hams that make it into my ham biscuits... The carmelized bermuda onions just add that little extra you rarely find elsewhere which is the secret to good entertaining...

Then, there's what I do with sausages....

[Mrs. Peperium]

Father M., I'm glad you're enjoying the conversation and now you are tipping us over into Maryland. I'm very fond of a good smoked turkey. There's a smokehouse in Texas that makes the world's best smoked turkey. I do a minature dried cranberry or dried blueberry scone with thin slices of this smoked turkey to pass with cocktails. Men seem to enjoy those alot too.

[Mrs. Peperium]

Maxy, train cake? One of us will have to move closer to the other, but I'll make you one. They are fun.

[Old Dominion Tory]

I think that Virginia has jurisdiction over some of The Bay's southern part, Father M. I recall that some sort of line was drawn (probably starting around the MD-VA border on the Eastern Shore). Otherwise, there would not have been the marvelously colorful episodes known as "the the Oyster Wars" in the 1880s. During them, the Governor of Virginia called out the militia to man boats that chased "oyster pirates" in Virginia's waters. As you'll see by the account below, there was a delightful opera bouffe quality to the affair--to include seasick militia men--that I'm Gilbert and Sullivan would have done proud.
http://www.mariner.org/chesapeakebay/oyster/mod001.html

[Old Dominion Tory]

Mrs. Peperium: Speaking of sausages, do you ever make bacon-wrapped sausages? If so, how do you go about it? What sausages and bacon do you use?

[Mrs. Peperium]

Bacon-wrapped sausages? No. My theory with sausages is to buy the very best you can -quite often not the most expensive (I get mine from a fellow that once danced with Ginger Rogers), then they do not need any extra pork fat.

I must run out for several hours. When I get back, I will tell you Virginian men what I do with sausage. As it invloves a few of your local ingredients, it will slay you - guarranteed...

[Mrs. Peperium]

Maxy, we've just gotten back about 3 hours later than expected and we were almost hit by a train which wasn't my fault at all and it's 95 degrees and I'm hot and tired and my head aches but the children finally have appropriate shoes. I'll tell you tomorrow.

Oh, and I'm a complete traitor. I also managed to somehow find a new sausage man. And he's 23. The other guy has 60 years on him.

[Mr. Peperium]

Maximum, I have been sent here to tell you that it's true, Mrs. P has indeed found a new sausage man. I have no idea how this will impact our marriage at this time, as I am still trying to get my head around this rather disturbing news. I assume some sort of arrangement will be worked out, some sort of division of labor in which (I hope) I will still figure. But best at this point not to indulge in useless speculation.

On the bright side, while grazing on what was left on the kid's dinner plates when I got home, I came to the inevitable conclusion that her choice was fully justified.

[Old Dominion Tory]

Mrs. Tory reminded me last night that Maryland has an entry in the race for best ham recipe: Stuffed Ham. The recipe found on the URL provided describes this as a Southern Maryland dish, but I recall it being popular on the Eastern Shore as well.
As you'll see, making it is quite a process, involving a stuffing of kale, cabbage, and watercress and the use of a t-shirt (I recall a pillow case in one cookbook) during cooking.
http://www.baltimoreeats.com/chesapeakeholiday/ham.html
Another Maryland food quirk is serving sauerkraut with the Thanksgiving or Christmas turkey. And, of course, no Maryland holiday dinner is complete without oysters as the opening course!

[Mrs. Peperium]

ODT, when first the subject of a national dish of Viringia was broached, my first thought was of a stuffed ham. Obviously like those Father M. described living on the Cheasapeake, my boundaries of Maryland and Virginia are off a tad. I would also said stuffed Smithfield ham, but that would have been very wrong as you say corned ham. And Maxy would never allow the stuffing of a Smithfield ham. Is corned ham a 'country ham'? The stuffing ingredients were right on the money though.

Now since Maxy was speaking of White House weddings recently, I happen to have the menu for Nellie Grant's wedding breakfast. It is quite admirable and she also wore white which is most admirable as brides wearing white really meant something in her day. These days it most often means a lack of imagination or a disconnect from reality, no?

Nellie's Wedding Breakfast:

Soft-Shelled Crabs on toast

Chicken Croquettes with green peas

Lamb cutlets with Tatre Sauce

Aspic of Beef Tongue

Woodcock and Snipe on Toasts

Salad with Mayonnaise

Strawberries with Cream

Orange Baskets garnished with Strawberries

Charlottle Pudding

Nesselrode Pudding

Blancmange

Ice Cream garnished with Preserved Friuts

Water Ices

Wedding Cake

Small Fancy Cakes

Roman Punch

Chocolate (Hot, I'm guessing)

Coffee

Apparently President Grant always served so many courses that a Roman Punch was served after the meat course to aid the digestion and general discomfort of his honored guests. His Roman Punch was one quart of lemon sherbet mixed with one cup of dark rum and placed in prettiest glass dishes. That would certainly remove any discomfort, no?

Now for what I do with sausages that slays men...

Men love cornbread, no? And men love pork no?
What is the main ingredient of cornbread - cornmeal. Like ham goes so well with cornbread, pork sausages are a natural with poloenta. Or the Northern Italians have always believed so, And I bow to their knowledge.

Polenta is a variation on cornbread (really hoecake) of sorts as it is just water, salt and cornmeal) -though down your way Maxy and ODT, you could say cornmeal mush is a form of polenta. and it is indeed it's 3rd or 4th much poorer cousin. As it is made much quicker and lacks the creamy quality of the long slow Italian method.

Some do make it with milk and jazz it up with cheese but it doesn't need it at all.

I make an appetizer that the recipe oringinally called for bacon but Mr. P, after loving it, said "You should try that with sausage." Basically, I very slowly make a proper polenta, then I add cooked crumble sausage (plain), grated cheddar cheese, and fresh thyme leaves. You pour the mixture out onto a cookie sheet with sides to a thickness of about 1/4" let set. Then cover with a nice coating of more cheddar cheese and bake. Cut into small diagonals and serve warm with a red wine (And lots of napkins).

Mr. P loves it when I make him a batch of polenta, and while it is still soft, place a mound of it on a soup plate and then spoon over piggy sausages that have been braised in onions, tomatoes,and sweet bell peppers.

Serious Happy Camper Time.

[Old Dominion Tory]

A corned ham is NOT a country ham. The former is soaked in a brine; the latter is rubbed with salt, liquid never touches it.
Most stuffed ham recipes I have seen call for a fresh ham, vice a corned one. In fact, the recipe I posted is the first I have seen that calls for a corned ham.
As to polenta, here in The Valley, we jokingly refer to it as "Italian grits" and grits as "Virginia (or Rebel) polenta."
I see Nellie's breakfast started with soft-shell crabs on toast. The recipe I remember for soft shell crabs is simplicity itself.
Ingredients:
12-18 soft-shell crabs
1-2 cups of flour
1-3 tablespoons of Old Bay Seasoning (and ONLY Old Bay, thank you)
A stick or two of butter
1) Dress crabs
2) Combine flour and Old Bay in large bowl.
3) In a large cast-iron skillet, melt the butter over medium heat.
4) Dredge crabs in flour, shake off excess.
5) Fry (with this much butter you aren't sauteeing) crabs until golden brown on each side.
6) Whether in a sandwich, on toast, or just plain, enjoy with a Wild Goose Amber Ale. http://www.wildgoosebrewery.com/beer.html

[Mrs. Peperium]

Wild Goose Amber Ale is one of my favorites.

I don't like soft-shell crab as each time I take a bite, I keep waiting for the crunch, which never happens and it makes me wonder if I've drunk too much or lost my faculties. Then I recall, oh, that's right, they're not supposed to crunch... Trying on the old nerves.

But bolied Maryland Blue crab is a favorite. 7 summers ago we did a real backyard Maryland crab boil. I ordered two baskets of crab- and they sent them (cooked) in those real crab baskets and the Old Bay was still sticking to the crabs. It was a blast. We had all sorts of salads, chips, beers, and wine. A friend made lemon meringue pies and I made cherry-berry lattice pies for dessert. I also sewed a crab crown...a giant stuffed gold lame crown with a blue tuft that has a stuffed red lame crab sitting on top of it wearing a gold lame crown. His claws hang down over the rim of the crown. At the end of the night we all took turns wearing it and telling the stories of our most embarrasing moments...

Mr. P wears it now when we play bingo with the kids...

[Father M.]

The Churches in Southern Maryland usually have two fundraising dinnes a year. One dinner is stuffed ham and the other, needless to say, is Oysters and blue crab...

[Andrew Cusack]

Oh, Oyster Wars! You want Oyster Wars? We've had Oyster Wars. Used to drive the Dutch mad, all those English from Connecticut.

You see, the oysters on this side of the border ("ostrea neo-nederlandicus", to give the jargonese) are simply superior in every way to the Connecticut oysters ("ostrea waspus inbredicus").

As always, I recommend Washington Irving on the subject.

[Mrs. Peperium]

"Oh, Oyster Wars! You want Oyster Wars?"

Why, Mr. Cusack, I believe I do. WITH YOU!

Consider the gauntlet tossed.

You, me, and an oyster bar of your choosing. I'll stick with the inferior oysters from Connecticut. You stick with superior New York varieties. Feel free to down all of yours with any condiment you need, including vodka. I take mine plain. The first one, as they say, to come a cropper loses.

And picks up the tab.

[Andrew Cusack]

I'm afraid I don't eat oysters, so Crackie will have to take up the challenge.

[Mrs. Peperium]

Andrew, Andrew, Andrew, now we need to talk. About oysters. Unless there is a medical reason behind your not partaking of the oyster, I consider the not eating of them at your age most unwise.

Why? Because it will severely dampen your efforts in the finding of the perfect young prune of which to feed out of the same crib for life. What happens if your perfect young prune walks right into your life and she fancies oysters? And if she were to find out you did not fancy them went and gave you the raspberry before you had the chance to employ the old Ickenham system?

I know of a perfect, young prune who was once in the posish I describe. It was me. I found the perfect man to feed out of the same crib for life and had he told me he was not a partaker of the oyster, I would have given him the boot. Do you know all of the early dates of Mr. P and I took place at oyster bars? Well, I guess you wouldn't, would you? They did. The reason is there's nothing more matey, than going to an oyster bar with a cute fella that can talk and have a few pints and a few plates of oysters. You'll learn that oysters and pints are most conducive to delightful discussions of just about anything.

Now, Mr. P was bluffing his way through the oyster bar dates, girded up by Bass Ale. It was actually at one of those joints he, over a lovely pint of ale, confessed that I was an "unavoidable thing" in his life. "A rock in his path that he'd never be able to get around". Now, what kind of perfect young prune doesn't want to hear that?

After Mr. P had sealed the deal by appearing at the altar at the appointed time and saying all the things he was required to say, only then did he say it was his most definite intention to never eat another oyster in his life.

Which is almost true. He no longer eats raw oysters. Cooked oysters he will eat, almost happily too, as they are a different kettle of fish.

When casting about for a young lady, the only limits and restrictions should be ones of character. Adding dietarty restrictions makes the whole thing that much more of a complex undertaking.

[Mr. Peperium]

The things one forgets with the passing of years. I had deleted from my files any recollection that I had once compared the woman I wanted to marry with a mass of immovable igneous matter. Wow. What a gift for the honeyed phrase. What a mastery of the polished period. If I can succeed on that brand of romantic rhetoric, you should have no problems overcoming this oyster obstacle.