BearFive

When I was little, whenever my mom rendered lard, I would stand right beside the pot and refuse to leave. After the oil was done, adults would urge me to wash my hands at once. Mom would scoop the crispy oil scraps onto the stove top. Pop one piece into my mouth, and it tasted just like eating meat. My hands were covered in grease, and I hated to wash it off, secretly licking my fingers again and again.