What's For Dinner?
Editor's Note: Please be warned. If you are a vegetarian you probably want to skip this post. Go in peace.
I was just listening to a conversation on the local NPR station about food aversions/taboos...the things Americans are disinclined to eat and why. Much about horse meat and innards, with the comments seeming to come down largely on the side of economic and class differences. Poorer cultures, people who grew up on the farm, folks out of the Depression, these are your candidates for oxtail, tongue, scrambled brains. People disconnected from the process of raising the animal or who have the resources to buy better cuts of meat are going to stay away from such foods.
There's a whole lot of food anthropology wrapped up in this conversation but what it made me think of, mostly, was my maternal grandfather.
Grandpa would, simply, eat anything. I know, because I watched him. One Christmas his sons-in-law gifted him with a tin of bees. It was like a sardine tin. He rolled back the lid with the little key and there were dozens and dozens of tightly packed dead bees. Which he then proceeded to eat on a cracker and pronounce "Delicious". Chocolate covered ants? You betcha. Deep fried cockroaches? Don't know that he ever did eat them, but if someone offered he would have.
He also loved offal. I have a vivid memory of standing with him in front of the butcher's case in a market while he ogled a very large and disgusting (to moi) beef tongue. Which he bought so grandma could cook it up. I took a pass, thankyouverymuch. That experience, coupled with the one and only time Dame Judi tried to feed us liver and onions, sealed forever in me a distaste for anything that intimate to an animal.
I have since had tongue. Exactly once, in a French bistro here in town as part of the chaucuterie platter. It was smoked, sliced very thin and absolutely lovely but the entire time I ate it I kept wishing the waitress hadn't actually pointed out that it was tongue. This knowledge hampered my full enjoyment as I kept picturing that big disgusting thing that Grandpa had bought. I managed to eat one piece.
I like my food somewhat removed from the source. I'm not even that crazy about meat with the bones in. Oh, man, when we were in France I ordered this beautiful dish of rabbit and pasta. It was just heaven. But the rabbit was full of bones and after a while I just gave up because it was too much work. And, I supposed, with the bone thing, even a little too connected to the little furry critter that had given it's life for my sustenance.
We raised sheep on the farm and when they got older, they were butchered. For meat. This was no big deal until the time that we were served a particular mutton stew. We all started happily eating and then someone asked, "Wait. Who is this?" Because of course we named all the animals and one, Endora, was the matriarch of the flock and much loved. Dame Judi probably wishes she'd been less forthcoming because upon learning the identity of our dinner, we all burst into tears and refused to finish our meal.
It occurs to me that while I do enjoy lamb, it is not and never has been my favorite meat to eat. Bet that's why.
Once a boyfriend spent an entire day (and a small fortune) on making a bouillabaisse for Christmas Eve dinner. It smelled like heaven and was brimming with a gorgeous variety of seafood. There were huge prawns perched on top, looking so inviting in all their pink gleaminess. He picked one up and declared, "Look! Shrimp roe!" and began to happily slurp the little eggs from the underside of the shrimp. As I used to say when I was little and served something I didn't like, it made my throat small. I could not eat those eggs or the mama shrimp to which they were attached. Just couldn't do it. And pretty much couldn't eat the soup, either. Which ticked off the boyfriend. Whatever. And yes, of course, I love caviar. You know I do. Caviar comes in a jar, like God intended.
Other things I don't enjoy eating and avoid at all costs:
Clams (all I ate for a week on Martha's Vineyard in the '80s. Enough to last me a lifetime). Although I will eat clam chowder.
Trout. (Too many bones).
Any fish served with it's face still attached.
Chicken skin.
Anything originally intended for procreation. (Meaning the gonads. Love me some roe...detached from aforementioned).
Cooked oysters. Love 'em raw, if they are smallish and there's a chilled French Chablis on hand. The mouth feel of cooked oysters gags me.
Insects.
Anything originally intended for digestion or circulation.
Cookies with raisins in them. (I have, oddly enough, been eating and thoroughly enjoying, cinnamon-raisin bread for breakfast).
Apple pie with raisins in it. That's just sick and wrong.
Mincemeat, either the original, which was actually meat that was minced, (had one bite of it once at a party...totally nasty) or the fruity weird stuff that comes in a jar.
Fruit cake (but I will eat pannetone).
What don't you like to eat?
I was just listening to a conversation on the local NPR station about food aversions/taboos...the things Americans are disinclined to eat and why. Much about horse meat and innards, with the comments seeming to come down largely on the side of economic and class differences. Poorer cultures, people who grew up on the farm, folks out of the Depression, these are your candidates for oxtail, tongue, scrambled brains. People disconnected from the process of raising the animal or who have the resources to buy better cuts of meat are going to stay away from such foods.
There's a whole lot of food anthropology wrapped up in this conversation but what it made me think of, mostly, was my maternal grandfather.
Grandpa would, simply, eat anything. I know, because I watched him. One Christmas his sons-in-law gifted him with a tin of bees. It was like a sardine tin. He rolled back the lid with the little key and there were dozens and dozens of tightly packed dead bees. Which he then proceeded to eat on a cracker and pronounce "Delicious". Chocolate covered ants? You betcha. Deep fried cockroaches? Don't know that he ever did eat them, but if someone offered he would have.
He also loved offal. I have a vivid memory of standing with him in front of the butcher's case in a market while he ogled a very large and disgusting (to moi) beef tongue. Which he bought so grandma could cook it up. I took a pass, thankyouverymuch. That experience, coupled with the one and only time Dame Judi tried to feed us liver and onions, sealed forever in me a distaste for anything that intimate to an animal.
I have since had tongue. Exactly once, in a French bistro here in town as part of the chaucuterie platter. It was smoked, sliced very thin and absolutely lovely but the entire time I ate it I kept wishing the waitress hadn't actually pointed out that it was tongue. This knowledge hampered my full enjoyment as I kept picturing that big disgusting thing that Grandpa had bought. I managed to eat one piece.
I like my food somewhat removed from the source. I'm not even that crazy about meat with the bones in. Oh, man, when we were in France I ordered this beautiful dish of rabbit and pasta. It was just heaven. But the rabbit was full of bones and after a while I just gave up because it was too much work. And, I supposed, with the bone thing, even a little too connected to the little furry critter that had given it's life for my sustenance.
We raised sheep on the farm and when they got older, they were butchered. For meat. This was no big deal until the time that we were served a particular mutton stew. We all started happily eating and then someone asked, "Wait. Who is this?" Because of course we named all the animals and one, Endora, was the matriarch of the flock and much loved. Dame Judi probably wishes she'd been less forthcoming because upon learning the identity of our dinner, we all burst into tears and refused to finish our meal.
It occurs to me that while I do enjoy lamb, it is not and never has been my favorite meat to eat. Bet that's why.
Once a boyfriend spent an entire day (and a small fortune) on making a bouillabaisse for Christmas Eve dinner. It smelled like heaven and was brimming with a gorgeous variety of seafood. There were huge prawns perched on top, looking so inviting in all their pink gleaminess. He picked one up and declared, "Look! Shrimp roe!" and began to happily slurp the little eggs from the underside of the shrimp. As I used to say when I was little and served something I didn't like, it made my throat small. I could not eat those eggs or the mama shrimp to which they were attached. Just couldn't do it. And pretty much couldn't eat the soup, either. Which ticked off the boyfriend. Whatever. And yes, of course, I love caviar. You know I do. Caviar comes in a jar, like God intended.
Other things I don't enjoy eating and avoid at all costs:
Clams (all I ate for a week on Martha's Vineyard in the '80s. Enough to last me a lifetime). Although I will eat clam chowder.
Trout. (Too many bones).
Any fish served with it's face still attached.
Chicken skin.
Anything originally intended for procreation. (Meaning the gonads. Love me some roe...detached from aforementioned).
Cooked oysters. Love 'em raw, if they are smallish and there's a chilled French Chablis on hand. The mouth feel of cooked oysters gags me.
Insects.
Anything originally intended for digestion or circulation.
Cookies with raisins in them. (I have, oddly enough, been eating and thoroughly enjoying, cinnamon-raisin bread for breakfast).
Apple pie with raisins in it. That's just sick and wrong.
Mincemeat, either the original, which was actually meat that was minced, (had one bite of it once at a party...totally nasty) or the fruity weird stuff that comes in a jar.
Fruit cake (but I will eat pannetone).
What don't you like to eat?
cobbled together by Moi at 10:04 AM
7 Comments:
You really want to know? OK...no fish except for canned tuna and of course lobster...tail only. No sweet breads for me either...made tongue once, pealed it and almost fainted. An ex loved tripe...blaghh x 2...no lamb..I think of that puppet...no bunnies...no venison...prime cuts of cow only...ok with chicken because they are so stupid. No puddings, only cherry pie, only corn, no prunes, figs or fruit with fuzz, no buttermilk, turnips, only iceberg lettuce....my gawd that's enough! My dad was like your Grandpa. Oh, and orange juice no pulp.
LOVE this post! You know I like to talk and hear about food.
My paternal grandfather (a rancher in Texas) used offal to make what he called "mare-gut stew". Never tried it. Liver and kidneys make me gag.
My grandfather's "mare-gut stew" was awfully offally.
Sorry. Couldn't resist that one.
Now then, tongue properly prepared is delicious, cold it makes tasty sandwiches on good bread. But then came the later years when Grandma would cook up a meal of chicken gizzards or tiny little chicken hearts for herself and Grandpa. I dearly loved my parents, but those two offerings were beyond even me!
"Ok with chicken because they are so stupid"....lol.
Jon, it will not surprise you to note that I nearly made a very similar pun in my post. It did need to be said.
DJ: I grant you, tongue is delicious when properly prepared. Trick is eating it without knowing that it's tongue.
Thank heaven that when Grandma took it into her head to "fatten me up" she resorted to whole milk and bananas and not gizzard snacks.
"Anything originally intended for procreation."
Just had to give you props for saying some so disgusting so ... tastefully.
And I wonder ... does this apply to plain old eggs. Do we not enjoy omelettes at Chez de Here's The Thing?
We are not counting eggs...I properly should have phrased it any organ originally intended for procreation. But that starts sounding less tasteful somehow.
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