Christmas Means Tripe

For me, tripe has always been that dodgy aunt who you spot from a distance and so you cross the street to avoid. If you did meet her unexpectedly, she’d inevitably plant a really wet kiss on your cheek, and then try to wipe it away with a ‘seasoned’ hanky.

My mum loved tripe. She lived in that ‘sweet spot’ of the 20th century, born just after the first world war, brought up on a small-holding when every part of an animal was fair game for lunch, even the smile. Oft I would innocently wander into the kitchen to see a bubbling pan on the stove, lift the lid, and discover unidentifiable offal within.

Then came the war, so people were happy with what they could get. And that was followed by years of austerity, which I just caught the end of.

But there are some kinds of offal that I am perfectly happy with - liver, kidneys, even sweetbreads. And yet some that I cannot countenance - brains, lungs, and a variety of other curious entrails. I can’t explain this oral apartheid.

And yet I always wanted to understand the allure of tripe.

House sitting in Devon at the moment, and wandered into the local supermarket only to find tripe amongst the goods reduced. What’s to be lost (or gained) from trying it? So into the basket it went. Work out what to do with it later.

But wait… this is Christmas. Surely I can’t add it to the blog? But wait …

Caribbean Christmas Trip Soup

Ingredients:

500g Tripe
2 Onions
5 Cloves of Garlic
1 Celery Stick chopped
A Green Pepper, finely chopped
2 Large Potatoes
1 Carrot, chopped
Cream
Lime Juice
Salt and Pepper

Method

Boil the tripe until tender in a 50/50 mix of milk and water, along with a little lime juice, and salt and pepper to season. Let it cool and then chop into little pieces.

Fry onions, garlic in some butter. Add celery and peppers.

Add the tripe until it’s coated.

Add diced potatoes and carrots, and top up with water and boil till soft.

Stir in some cream.

Serve with some crusty bread and butter.

R