Dripping with family spirit

 As I mentioned a while ago, there'll be a Pridmore family reunion in November, almost certainly, and although it's not definitely totally confirmed just yet, we have got a WhatsApp group in which I've tried to establish just how many cousins I've got (my dad wasn't big on keeping in touch with all his brothers) and get to know them a little in advance of meeting them. The count comes to 16 first cousins, I think, each of them with dozens of children and grandchildren of their own (they're all a fair bit older than me; the oldest less than a year younger than my baby-of-the-family dad, who was an uncle before he'd even learned what the word meant). But one special family delicacy that everyone seems to know has come up in the conversation...

Non-Yorkshire people probably wouldn't get it. That ever-present jar of dripping in my father's fridge is something I grew up with and just don't see anywhere nowadays. Modern people are just too healthy by far. Look it up if you're too cultured to know what it is.