Everyone had gone out and I was alone in peace at home. I went to my office to get on with some work which was urgently needed for a management meeting that week. I hadn’t been working for more that ten minutes when I heard the front door open and my peace was interrupted by Aunt Gertrude’s mind-numbing grating Australian accent seeking attention.
“G’day cobber …” she screeched like a constipated owl, “do you have any of them pork scratchings left?”
For those of you who don’t know, pork scratchings are small pieces of pork rind or skin which have been cooked and flavoured so they become dry and crispy. They are a favourite alternative to salted peanuts or potato chips or crisps in pubs and a good accompaniment to a pint or three of beer.
Personally, I prefer my Foster’s amber nectar or Guinness minus any food in order not to interrupt the flavor, if you see what I mean. But I understand people snacking on scratchings, nuts or crisps with their beer.
I’m not sure whether pork scratchings are available in Aunt Gertrude’s native Australia. She says she first tasted them a few days ago when we took her to the pub and since then the acquired taste of Aunt Gertrude has acquired a taste for pork scratchings.
“Did ye hear me mate?” she screeched again, “any scratchings left?”
I got up from my desk and offered to make her something more substantial like some sandwiches and tea, or a light meal such as an omelette or scrambled eggs on toast.
“Are you fair dinkum?” she said with a wry smile.
I didn’t understand what she said but for the sake of good Anglo Australian relations I went to the pantry and got her a large bag of pork scratchings. Luckily we had stocked up on the product since that trip to the pub where pork met Gertrude.
She sat in front of the TV watching Australian soaps whilst I went back to my desk to finish my report in peace.
Thank Heavens for pork scratchings!