Pinot, Pecorino and Pettitoes: Pairing Pig’s Feet with Wine

I’ve always secretly wondered whether pickled pig’s feet were some kind of practical joke. “You know what would be hilarious,” someone must have proposed many decades ago, “is if we put pig’s feet—yes, the part of a pig’s body that is wading through their own waste 95 percent of the time—in a pickle jar (to make it look like food) and then see if people actually eat it!”

Either way, it turns out the joke is on me, because this is a real food item that people willingly eat in many cultures, including in the American South, China, and in Scandinavia, where much of their traditional cuisine is derived from methods of preservation.

The worldwide prevalence of eating (and enjoying) pig’s feet is of course no comfort to me, since I have never held any desire to eat them. However, I couldn’t let this stop me from determining which wine would pair best with this particular delicacy, as I am apparently a masochist.

Finding pickled pig’s feet wasn’t too challenging—I just had to locate the “gross food section” of my local market. They were literally shelved with canned clams, anchovies, snails, and other items with more “niche” audiences. This turned out to be a really wonderful surprise to cashier Desiree, who grew up eating pig’s feet, but didn’t know the market where she worked carried them.

She told me the best preparation is to boil them until tender and falling apart, like a short rib, and serve over rice with chiles, peppers, and onions. When I asked if they taste like pork, she answered, “No, they taste out of this world!”

Bolstered by Desiree’s enthusiasm and a sincere desire not to be culturally insensitive, I took my jar of feet home and prepped them for wine pairing, once again roping in my fiancé Michael (somehow), and our friend Nina, who evidently has no fear.

Right away Nina aptly noted that the jar of pig’s feet looks a lot like human flesh, which made me a lot more excited about the wine-drinking portion of the night. Because they’re pickled, they can be eaten straight out of the clear glass jar (a design decision I can’t entirely get behind), canceling out the benefits of cooking the feet and pretending they’re a more palatable part of the animal, like the bacon part.

But we were committed to eating it anyway, especially Nina and Michael, meaning there was too much peer pressure in the room for me to fake my way through it.

We tried the pig’s feet on their own first, after spending a good hour stalling by petting the dogs and talking about how brave we all are. Cutting into the sinew and bone is decidedly unpleasant, but it can be avoided if you focus on the fatty meat parts, which easily fall right off the foot.

I learned there’s a reason people eat pig’s feet—because they taste good. If you can get past the slimy-while-chewy texture (which Michael and I didn’t mind but Nina did), the flavor resembles a more savory version of a salt and vinegar chip. There was absolutely nothing offensive about the taste, unless you already know you don’t like flavors inherent to pickling, and I would even go so far as to call them delicious. Of course, eating anything is a holistic experience, so it’s understandable if a certain aspect of this particular dish would turn someone off from eating it, flavor aside.

Next up came the wine. The only pairing I found specifically for pickled pig’s feet, as opposed to boiled or barbecued, was pinot noir. With little other info available, we picked out a broad selection of wines, from rich reds to buttery whites, my favorite of which had a 17.2 percent alcohol content, perfect for drinking with psychologically disturbing foods.