If anything in the above picture looks the least bit appetizing to you, this might not be the post for you.
I am not a picky eater, but I draw the line at internal organs. The casing on sausage or some choice shellfish is as far as I go down that road.
Don’t even try. I am not a fan of, nor will I entertain the likes of chit’lins, brains, sweetbreads, liver, stomach, tripe, tongue, heart gizzards, kidney or anything having to do with any of that. Maybe, just maybe, if I was in a survival situation and then it would be under protest.
And really, in this day and age, why the fark should we be eating that crap? Keep in mind that the internal organs do a lot of fitering and collection of organic and inorganic trash that a given animal eats. It is known that certain big game animal’s livers are contaminated with lead and cadmium and unsafe for human consumption. Hey, no worries there, as far as I’m concerned.
Cadmium for crying out loud. Who the hell needs more of that? And as long as we’re on the subject, anything ending in ‘ium is not good for humans – uranium, plutonium, osmium, oppossium, bacterium, et al.
It’s not called ‘offal’ for nothing, you know. The very word ‘offal’ is derived from the term ‘awful meat’.
Awful. Meat. Indeed.
But I digest (well, no, actually, I don’t).
I’m sure some of my vegan friends are thrusting their stalks of celery high in the air and shouting out, ‘You go, Birdwell! But it’s not like I have anything against people eating whatever they want, it’s just that I think organs and such are repulsive, reprehensible, regurg-itory, purge-itory and downright hurl-worthy.
How in the world could you ever compare the delectable, mouth-watering smell of a grilled steak to that of a liver, onion and eggplant casserole? Or tripe and tomatoes? Or kidney pie and okra? Or friggin’ baked tongue on rye?
Sheesh, I don’t know about you, but I’ve about lost my appetite.
So the other day I dropped into a eating/drinking establishment that I don’t frequent very often. But I had some time on my hands and I was in the area and I was somewhat parched, as it were.
It is populated by folks much older than myself and I grabbed a bar stool next to a couple of guys that were about my ol’ man’s age. I listened with disinterest as they ordered their meals, disinterest right up until the point where one of them said,
“I’ll have the sweetbreads, lightly braised, with extra sweetbreads” (no, really, he asked for extra).
I looked up from my glass for no good reason…
“Oh, a fan of the sweetbreads are ye, young feller?” He said, meeting my gaze.
“No.” I answered flatly.
“Ye don’t know what yer missing.” He returned, jovially.
“Nor do I care to find out”, I replied as I shot my whiskey to wash the taste out of my mouth.