And I had the veal.
What's wrong with me? Every Christmas I take the girls to the UConn cow barn, where we let the babies suck happily on our cold fingers, and chew on our sleeves with gummy mouths, and leave their foamy white breath all over our LLBean fleece. Oh, that one is a frisky one! Ooh, and this one is so shy... What a sweet little cow!
And then. And then! I eat them. Yes I do.
Usually just once a year for Christmas Eve dinner, which is sort of like a native whale hunt. Special dispensation for tradition. So I don't feel guilty. I'm basically ordered to participate by the tribal Chief, who is known regionally as Ma. But this year, oh-ho! David and I went out last weekend for our anniversary (that would be the sixth anniversary, traditionally celebrated with candy, iron and sugar -- please see: molten chocolate cake with artichoke marmalade and sugar-spun mountain. Yes, artichoke marmalade!)
Here.
I had the radicchio salad with gorgonzola and pears. And the aforementioned chocolate cake with artichoke marmalade. (yummy. really!) And, in between... the tender baby cow stuffed into raviolini.
Anyway, I don't feel much guilt -- mostly I am proud that I haven't descended into real cannibalism. Because, if I could, like not so much if we were in a plane crash in the Andes, but more like if I were crazy, I might actually eat Margaret. She has such nice meaty thighs! If a baby cow is delicious... wouldn't she be even sweeter? Braised? (or has her delicate milky flavor been ruined by Oreos and tomatoes. Maybe so. yes. definitely. Oh! What a relief!)
"We'll eat you up we love you so!"
Name that quote and I'll give you a smelly marker.*
Lucy is too big to eat. And Josephine is too skinny. She's like the goblin in "Hungry, Hungry, Hungry" -- a book that we bought in Ireland a couple of years ago. "Why have you got such skinny wee thighs?" asks the wary little boy. "Hungry, hungry, hungry!" shouts the green goblin. Then, when the goblin threatens to eat him, the child kindly offers him a jelly bean instead. Answers the goblin: "That will do nicely. Thank you very much."
Oh, what polite company!
Anyway, back to the cows...
We also had the olive oil ice cream. V. nice!
*I won't really give you a smelly marker. One, that's a really easy quote. You haven't really earned it... Second, I use them to self-medicate for work-related ADD. A little yellow is quite invigorating.
And then. And then! I eat them. Yes I do.
Usually just once a year for Christmas Eve dinner, which is sort of like a native whale hunt. Special dispensation for tradition. So I don't feel guilty. I'm basically ordered to participate by the tribal Chief, who is known regionally as Ma. But this year, oh-ho! David and I went out last weekend for our anniversary (that would be the sixth anniversary, traditionally celebrated with candy, iron and sugar -- please see: molten chocolate cake with artichoke marmalade and sugar-spun mountain. Yes, artichoke marmalade!)
Here.
I had the radicchio salad with gorgonzola and pears. And the aforementioned chocolate cake with artichoke marmalade. (yummy. really!) And, in between... the tender baby cow stuffed into raviolini.
Anyway, I don't feel much guilt -- mostly I am proud that I haven't descended into real cannibalism. Because, if I could, like not so much if we were in a plane crash in the Andes, but more like if I were crazy, I might actually eat Margaret. She has such nice meaty thighs! If a baby cow is delicious... wouldn't she be even sweeter? Braised? (or has her delicate milky flavor been ruined by Oreos and tomatoes. Maybe so. yes. definitely. Oh! What a relief!)
"We'll eat you up we love you so!"
Name that quote and I'll give you a smelly marker.*
Lucy is too big to eat. And Josephine is too skinny. She's like the goblin in "Hungry, Hungry, Hungry" -- a book that we bought in Ireland a couple of years ago. "Why have you got such skinny wee thighs?" asks the wary little boy. "Hungry, hungry, hungry!" shouts the green goblin. Then, when the goblin threatens to eat him, the child kindly offers him a jelly bean instead. Answers the goblin: "That will do nicely. Thank you very much."
Oh, what polite company!
Anyway, back to the cows...
We also had the olive oil ice cream. V. nice!
*I won't really give you a smelly marker. One, that's a really easy quote. You haven't really earned it... Second, I use them to self-medicate for work-related ADD. A little yellow is quite invigorating.
posted by Mary Ellen at
5:42 PM
5 Comments:
Mmmmm...veal.
I live in beef country, and was raised around ranches, so I don't get very sentimental about livestock, although calves are awfully cute.
And that quote is from "Where the Wild Things Are," which our daughter had memorized by the time she was two and a half. We have a recording of her reciting it, and we always nibbled on her fingers when that line came up. *sigh*
About the veal...clearly my influence is not rubbing off on you at all. This is why I'm not a political activist.
Olive Oil Ice Cream. I'm intrigued...
The olive oil ice cream was good! It tasted a little lemony. They also had basil ice cream.
We're seriously thinking about ordering a turducken -- they're on sale right now! David and I were joking that we could invite all of our vegetarian friends. Just for effect.
Olive oil ice cream? What?
Post a Comment
Subscribe to Post Comments [Atom]
<< Home