Nasty Bits

Picky people are one of my pet peeves.
They really, really, really get on my nerves.


Big time.
Aaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!








Now you cannot like everything you eat. I understand that. No, really - I do. What's the point of having taste buds otherwise?
But some people are in serious need of scolding. 'Cause their mom and dad obviously didn't do a good enough job while they were kids, and allowed them to dictate all their desiderata. That was definitely not my case. I had to eat what was on my plate. Period. And they didn't even have to tell me about the starving kids in China; they just reminded me that my grandma almost starved to death during the war. Enough to make anyone shed a little tear, right?

So I ate. Except for cauliflower. There is always an exception to every rule in French - and not only in grammar.

But I was always very particular with my meat, even as a grown-up. I am by no means a vegetarian. I do crave on a regular basis a fat, juicy burger or a flavorful, melt-in-your mouth, chimichurri covered piece of steak. Thinking about it can even make my mouth water. (Like now). But at the same time meat is surely not my diet staple. I can spend days without it, and feel perfectly fine.
Yes, it is probably a mild form of insanity, but what can I say?!?

I used to drive my mom crazy. I had to thoroughly inspect my meat, turning it on my plate over and over, before deigning to put it in my mouth. And every single little piece of fat I could find was violently discarded. NO EXCEPTION.

But things have changed. Big time.The culprit? The carnivore I share my life with. And no, it is not my dog Sake (who's a character in its own right but let's not digress).
My husband is probably the least picky person I know. He eats EVERYTHING.

E-v-e-r-y-fuckin'-t-h-i-n-g.
He is incredible. That is quite the skill to have (tell that to Napolean Dynamite, he'll be impressed).
Fat? what's the problem? weird-looking? sure! foul smelling? he'll give it a try anyway. Nothing is off limits....well, preserved lemons might be. And bitter melon as well. And still. He would eat, making a face, sure, but would eat anyway.
It's just how he is. An all category champion.




Thanks to him (even though I have to stop here and wonder if I should really be thankful for allowing him to introduce me to the wonders of fat....hmm...that's a tough call...) I extended my meat territory far beyond its lean-beefy limits (which also included, of course, chicken - duh - veal, rabbit - my favorite - and pork tenderloin. You'll notice the italics. They are essential). Corned beef, carnitas, pork belly, goat stew, lamb shank, ribs, wings (with the skin, please) and co. - you name it, I eat it.
I might sometimes say something irrational like: "It's a little too porky for me" (which inevitably triggers a head shaking reaction from my dinner partner) but I came a long way, and you have to be patient and forgive me.

I tamed fat.
And I conquered 'nasty bits'.

I have always loved liver (a calf liver with onions and a vinegar demi-glace....believe me, you don't have to be Hannibal L. - or have fava beans on the side - to enjoy it) and kidneys, God only knows why. 'Cause they can be pretty nasty. Boudin, the French rendition of blood sausage, oven-baked with melting apples is an all time favorite. And I would kill for a nice dish of perfectly cooked sweetbreads. But as stated above I am not the most rational person in the world. Deal with it; I do.
As for the rest...........no. freakin'. way.
Looking at tripes at the butcher's counter used to make me sick. Tongue, head cheese, ears, feet, heart, snout....seriously, why wasting your time with those when you can have all the yummy muscle around as evidenced below?!?If I hadn't already started to change my mind, what happened in my life last week would have single-handedly been able to do so. Within a few hours I came to fully realize what I had been missing on all these years.
The offender this time was a woman, and her pet is not a dog but an adorable albeit a tad insane-looking little goat.

Sunday night, mentally exhausted from a hell of a week, we (the all-eater and I) met with friends for a dinner we had all anticipated for weeks. No joke. 6pm, reso for 6 at Girl and the Goat. Be there or be square. I - so - wanted to be there.
I can honestly say that for the first time in my entire life I wanted to try every item on the menu. Every single one of them. Including pig face, tongue, rillettes and liver mousse.
We almost did. 16 plates were ordered and shared, and savored in a concert of mutters of disbelief. How can food - nasty food, the waste, the scraps, the castoffs of the kitchen - taste so damn good?!?!? I had such bad memories of a particular head cheese sandwich that I had to eat in replacement of my usual bread and chocolate mid-afternoon snack (torture device cruelly imposed on me at the tender age of 9 by my stepmother, and she was not even as mean as the ones in the fairy tales) that I was not expecting much from the pig face. I ordered it as an act of defiance. Ha! Please me if you can, you sucker!

Well - it didn't please me.
It blew me over.I am not an expert and won't try here and now to describe the deliciousness that entered my mouth. Just now that it was divine. And it was a PIG FACE. My grandma wouldn't believe it. But lovely, curly, sparky Stephanie managed the unthinkable: make me a nasty bids lover.

That night I definitely won my whole-around foodie badge, and I am damn proud of it.