In Stephanie Alexander’s rainbow-colored Cook’s Companion, the chapter on ham begins:

The delicacy we know as ham is an example of necessity becoming the mother of invention. An oversupply of feral pigs in Roman Gaul (France) meant that methods had to be found to preserve this excellent food for the winter. Salting and smoking was the answer. The rest is history!

Say it with me, children: FERAL PIGS. Mmmm.

Yesterday morning, there was a suggestion of pumpkin soup for dinner. A small brainstorming session later (“I don’t like pumpkin soup. How about pea soup?” “Meh.” “Pea and ham?” “Mmm.”), we’d settled on the menu. The rest is history!

Pea and ham soup means we get to stop by the butcher for a ham hock, and this is good for two reasons. One, I get to say the words “ham hock,” which I never say, because I have never made a pea and ham soup. We like these words, “ham hock,” because these are words that are salty and hammy all at once. Nyup, nyup, nyup.

Oh! I am now remembering that episode of “The Facts of Life” where Blair is in some play, and she reads the review in the local paper, and they say that she is, as an actress, I think, “like a ham and cheese sandwich with neither the cheese nor the bread.” And Blair says, with great indignation, “Me?! A ham?!”

And, oh!, I am now remembering that at the Museum of TV and Radio in New York, there is a whole archive of TV shows you can watch. When CC and I were there some years ago, we picked one “Muppet Show” and one “Facts of Life,” now you know something about us.

But.

Reason number dos, with the ham hock, is, we like a butcher, because they have all sorts of handy things to say about meat. Sometimes they have ruddy cheeks, too, which is also nice, but I may be remembering from children’s books rather than from life.

Hum. I don’t know how I got here, but all I wanted to say is that after an hour or two of simmering on the stove, there was pea and ham soup last night, with big chunks of wholemeal bread and a good amount of butter.