Hahahahahah I’ll bet! It is one thing, sliced up, pan fried and served in slices, but to see that big honking thing sitting on a cutting board waiting to be carved up...
My one grandma cooked it that way. Peel it, put it on a plate. They were dirt poor, mostly because grand dad was a whiskey drinking fool. During WW2 they lived in a black ghetto, even though jobs were plentiful. Even sober later on, grand dad was an ahole, grandma was a saint.