"AND HERE I THOUGHT YOU PEOPLE DIDN'T EAT PORK!"

My mother was a saint, but she was a miserable cook. We called her salmon loaf “the unmentionable,” and her turkey crumbled to the touch.

But there were exceptions. She did make a fine breast of veal. It was overcooked like everything else, but its layer of fat ensured that the meat remained juicy and carcinogenic.

As I ventured out on my own culinary odyssey, I discovered that veal breast had many of the same attributes as – forgive me – pork. So why not experiment? I glazed and roasted it until it shimmered. I contemplated the infamy of becoming the rabbi who perfected the elusive “kosher ham.”

One Friday afternoon as I was removing a gleaming veal breast from the oven, my minister friend Randy strolled in unannounced. He spied the roast and bellowed, “Cut me a slice of that, wouldya?” He savored the forkful and exploded, “Hot damn!” the Southern equivalent of “Wunderbar!” Then, “Cut me another slice!” And another. Pointing to the potato stuffing, “How about some of that?” “Hot damn!” After polishing off the roast, Randy raved, “And here I thought you people didn’t eat pork!” My kids wound up with salami sandwiches, but ever since that afternoon, we never call veal breast anything but “Hot Damn!”

As time has gone by, my quasi-porcine veal breast has become much enjoyed and requested by family and friends. Just last weekend I served one fully regaled, in honor of Linda’s mother’s birthday – apricot-brandy glaze, succulent meat stuffed with potatoes, carrots and onions, and a port-wine sauce. I would be hard-pressed to call it the pinnacle of my repertoire, but I do get a kick out of presenting this magnificently scored, glazed and studded glatt-kosher roast as if it were a scene from Good Housekeeping.

One day I may achieve the Cordon Bleu and even snooker them into believing that my veal is “the other white meat.” But, deep inside I will be beholden to a Jewish mother who, forever reminding me that I am a son of Israel, will declare from heaven, “Maishe Chayim, the kelbene brustel and potato kugel were delicious. But port-wine sauce? Feh. Goyishe nachas. And what is this ‘hot damn’ mishugas?”