In Puerto Rico we have a town nicknamed Pork Rind City and lechoneras that line a whole highway. Pork crackling is our drug. In any given plaza you will find cart after cart overflowing with chicharron. So many that it’s hard to imagine any pigs on the island have their skin intact. My mother loves crackling so much that Thanksgiving 1985 was almost ruined when one of my aunts nabbed the coveted piece of crunchy skin on the pernil before it had been served. When my mother made the discovery (as she went to sneak a piece for herself) she spit out “How could you!” in a tone of disgust [...]