Protestin' Intestine

Talking me into eating anything deep fried is usually not very difficult. The tops of my thighs would be evidence of my penchant for deep-fried foods if it weren’t for those fabulous Pilates classes at Crunch. Sitting in the yellow interior of Yuet Lee with its green-rimmed windows, I am a bit apprehensive at the mention of deep-fried pig intestine. These kinds of meats, also known as chitlins, scare me a bit., These are the tubes through which chit passes; to put it nicely. I’m not sure the cooks at Yuet Lee can, or should be trusted to thoroughly clean those pipes. Allow me to paint a picture for you. A weary cook slaving away in a hot kitchen at 3am (when they close), the dining room full of obnoxious drunks pouring into the restaurant from various Broadway clubs. Tickets are stacking up on the ticket rail, and one cook cleans the intestine just good enough in order to get food out faster and in turn go home sooner. Boom, just like that, a table of diners just got E. Coli. Though, for this blog’s sake, now is no time to become fearful. What our server brings to the table is a platter full of intestine that has been sliced into snack-sized pieces and deep fried to a crisp, not unlike chicarrones. The intestine is remarkably bright red. I can’t tell you why because our server knows approximately four English phrases outside of what is on the menu, which makes conversing with her somewhat difficult. At first bite the intestines are crunchy, like cracklins, then you get into the middle and there is a layer of chewy fat just beneath their crispy exterior. Delightfully oily, pig guts taste just like the bagged pork skins that are available at your local corner store, except twenty million times better. DELICIOUS, deep-fried pig intestine is served atop a bed of shredded lettuce with a side of jalapeno-infused soy sauce that is divine. In this one instance, it’s okay to have the chits. 1300 Stockton St, (415) 982-6020