One of the most enjoyable traditions about the month of May in Indianapolis at the track is consumption of well-prepared pork tenderloin sandwiches. I like it best when it is dipped twice in buttermilk and egg, and floured then panko’d, then cooked in actual fat in a cast iron skillet. Gastronomically it is about the worst thing one should eat, but when considering only taste buds and not health, once or twice a year is not going to kill anyone.
I like mine in the Hoosier traditional way. Plain white bun, lots of yellow mustard, some pickles and raw onions. The meat must be pounded flat like an elephant ear at a country fair, and there must be way too much for the bun.
It has been nearly a year since my taste buds were so titillated, but that ends tomorrow. In terms of the 500, the dreaded breaded pork tenderloin has become a tradition for many. Some people do not understand that sort of craving either, and it is not worth trying to explain to anyone who has not tried one.
So far this month in and around the track has been mostly free of assholes, but not entirely. Eating tenderloins is always a great asshole repellant. Between 1996 and just a few years ago, there were lots of them. Fortunately many have either grown up, died off or have otherwise developed maturity. There remain a select few, however, whose lack of maturity defies logic. Some of the best racing fans I know have a general interest in the entire sport, and most of them like Formula 1 the best. Some of the best fans I meet every May love Formula 1….but also love Indy and the 500. Some of the worst excuses for fans I know also obsessively attach themselves to Indy and screech about how bad they think it is. These are obviously lying hypocrites.
That is why God made tenderloins. They make dealing with such non-race fans a whole lot easier and spending time with the real ones that much more pleasurable. So if you see a well girthed, aging man in funky shorts devouring a tenderloin, stop by and say hey.