Yes, pigs – or pork – can have poetry, at least when done in the right pot. I spent the last few days exploring the rich satisfaction often found in dishes made with pork.

First came pork tamales, a pre-Colombian delicacy of steamy corn masa, that I mixed with raisins, pork of course, olives, roasted peppers, kimchi, chilies and seasoning.

Second came stuffed cabbage (which I think of as a Hungarian peasant dish brought from the invading Genghis Khan and his nomadic horseman) and that I make with both fresh and fermented cabbage along with smoked pork.

Third, came a dish from Alsace, which skirts the border of France and Germany, and where I lived for a few years as a kid. Being blessed with a superb butcher in my neighborhood, I can induldge in childhood memories of tastebud varieties using pork, and a dish that’s good with wine or beer.

Two of these dishes enrobe pork, highlight it, the last one is smothered in fermented cabbage that absorbs the goodness which the pig has given us, via slow cooked foods that steam.