That’s when we strike, asking with great amusement, “You know what that is, right?”
Then we watch with delight as you stop chewing and your adam’s apple strains, willing the food only half-way swallowed to continue on its intended path toward the stomach. The cook told you it was pork, you say, debating what to do with the contents of your mouth.
We chuckle knowingly, “Yeah, but she told you what it really is, didn’t she?”
And all you can do is think back to that thing you saw her preparing.