The age-old English idiom “eating high on the hog” meant for British elite the so-called “good fortune” to eat the fancy, more marketable cuts of animals, leaving the rest of the carcass to the lowly, poor people barely scratching out a living. Like Rolls Royce trumps Kia today, back then, filet mignon certainly outscored brains, feet and testicles (and most would argue it still does).



But no more is peasant food just for the disenfranchised — at least in certain food circles. Even before all those Bear Sterns millionaires and debunked corporate CEOs woke up to discover they were poor, 4-star chefs in America’s ritzy restaurants embraced peasant foods, dishing out tongue in pomegranate sauce, barbecue braised oxtails with red chili beans and hog jowls with black-eyed peas to their clientele.



It’s been like stomach slumming for foodies who forget they are well behind the 8-ball.

With this said, tripe, or stomach, could be considered the ultimate symbol for this recent peasant passion. The almost alien-looking, white, course offal represents a willingness for those who already graduated from the kids’ table, where they’ve been served enough Michelin-star Kobe beef, sea bass and dim sum to choke Emeril, to overcome their fear of the unknown and taste how the other 99 percent of the world eats — and enjoys it.

A quick anatomy lesson

Cows lug around four chambers in their stomachs, three of which people typically eat. The rumen, the reticulum, the omasum and the abomasum each yield a different type of tripe, but the abomasum doesn’t find its way to market or plates. The reticulum has little square cells; the rumen is like a blanket, and omasum features honeycomb folds and is known as the “Bible” or leaf. While beef tripe reigns, pigs and sheep are known to lose their guts, too.  And for the extra credit answer, once cleaned, tripe doesn’t have a taste or a distinct smell. OK, class is over.

Hola

I’ve been told any discussion of tripe should begin with Menudo, not the boy band (that’s trite not tripe), but the Mexican soup. Sworn up and down as the best remedy for a hangover, Menudo is a dark, red-brown tomato- and beef-base soup with hominy and cubed omasum tripe. A side dish of cilantro, onions, lime slices and corn tortillas may accompany the bowl.



In his book, On Mexican Time: A New Life in San Miguel, Tony Cohan remarks that Mexican farmers start their mornings religiously with a bowl of Menudo before heading off to work.



At Tacos Guaymas, a 20-chain, fast-food restaurant (that includes a Tacoma and Lakewood location), serving what many local Hispanics swear is the most authentic Mexican, Menudo appears only on the weekend menu.



“In Mexico people get really drunk on Saturday nights and that’s what they want to eat Sunday morning,” says Yaer Alvarado, a Taco Guaymas server.



Alvarado says he eats Menudo every weekend, and has been doing so since a child.

“I just love it,” he adds. “Menudo, corn tortillas and a Coke — that’s what it is about.”

We are the world

Tripe knows no boundaries, even for centuries here in the United States. From being the vessel for the Scot’s Haggis to giving the Pennsylvania Dutch the oomph pah pah they wanted in their Pepper Pot, it’s about as universal as ingredients get.



Finding it in the South Sound requires little more than an appetite. Vietnamese, Chinese, Korean. Mexican — many restaurants here, mostly in the international districts, serve a variation of stomach.



At Tacoma Szechwan, it’s a yin and yang thing. The Chinese are well known for their lessons in harmony (ethereally speaking), and TS’s cold pork and tripe in a fiery chili oil makes me want to be a better person.



“It’s about the color and texture,” says University of Puget Sound Professor Lo Sun “Lotus” Perry, my new go-to friend when it comes to deciphering anything Chinese. Perry tells me the dark cuts of pork mingle purposely with the white strips of tripe just like the Taijitu, the traditional symbol representing the forces of yin (dark) and yang (light).



At House of Pho (5700 100th St. S.W., Lakewood), the tripe in my Tai, Nam, Sach pho resembled a white spindly weed that hid inside the rice noodles. Again, taste barely matters — the tripe provides a texture and almost intermittent chewiness to a basically wet and slimy meal.



Where will tripe pop up next? As the recession worsens, many of us may just find ourselves cooking it at home. For that, both Pal Do World Market (8730 S. Tacoma Way, Lakewood) and East Asia Supermarket (602 S. 38th St., Tacoma) carry it pre-packaged in their meat aisles. I found mostly omasum, but Pal Do also had something marked “regular tripe.”



Peasants unite!



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