Yesterday having been International Eat A Tasty Animal for PETA (IEATAPETA) Day, She Who Must Be Obeyed and I celebrated by enjoying Animal-Based Protein at every opportunity.
If it has a face - or a mother - it’s fair game on IEATAPETA Day. And the cuter the animal, the better.
For breakfast, I had a couple of eggs over easy. But eggs do not exploit the chicken quite enough, so I placed them gently atop a salmon patty.
Lunch was a corned beef and pastrami sandwich that I shared with SWMBO. Considerate husband that I am, I did not insist that the sandwich also contain tongue or chopped liver, neither of which the Missus will deign to eat.
For dinner, we joined our friends Tom and Ellen and their daughter Cailin at Pasta Vino, a homey Italian joint in Johns Creek. The Missus had grouper; I had rigatoni with spinach, garlic, and Italian sausage. Meaty good!
There’ll be more meat today. Houston Steve has been yearning to make a Steak and Kidney Pudding (Mmmmm...kidneys...), so of course I’ll help him eat it.
But there’s one meat we won’t be having:
Dead duck in a can.
You’re looking at a can of Duck Confit - duck preserved in its own fat - that was given to us by Amélie, an exchange student who stayed with us for several weeks back in the spring of 1994. (She also gave us a CD: “Edith Pilaf sings Songs About Cooked Rice,” but that’s another story.)
I love duck confit, but for some stupid reason, we never opened that can...and now, I fear, it’s too late. Because I’m a little nervous about consuming something that is fully ten years past its “Best If Consumed Before” date. Dead Duck in a can.
If I want duck confit, I guess I’ll have to make it myself. But I could cut a couple of slices from the Strasburg Pie that sits in our freezer. Duckies are cute...all the better to eat ’em...and their livers are the cutest part of all.
If it has a face - or a mother - it’s fair game on IEATAPETA Day. And the cuter the animal, the better.
For breakfast, I had a couple of eggs over easy. But eggs do not exploit the chicken quite enough, so I placed them gently atop a salmon patty.
Lunch was a corned beef and pastrami sandwich that I shared with SWMBO. Considerate husband that I am, I did not insist that the sandwich also contain tongue or chopped liver, neither of which the Missus will deign to eat.
For dinner, we joined our friends Tom and Ellen and their daughter Cailin at Pasta Vino, a homey Italian joint in Johns Creek. The Missus had grouper; I had rigatoni with spinach, garlic, and Italian sausage. Meaty good!
There’ll be more meat today. Houston Steve has been yearning to make a Steak and Kidney Pudding (Mmmmm...kidneys...), so of course I’ll help him eat it.
But there’s one meat we won’t be having:
Dead duck in a can.
You’re looking at a can of Duck Confit - duck preserved in its own fat - that was given to us by Amélie, an exchange student who stayed with us for several weeks back in the spring of 1994. (She also gave us a CD: “Edith Pilaf sings Songs About Cooked Rice,” but that’s another story.)
I love duck confit, but for some stupid reason, we never opened that can...and now, I fear, it’s too late. Because I’m a little nervous about consuming something that is fully ten years past its “Best If Consumed Before” date. Dead Duck in a can.
If I want duck confit, I guess I’ll have to make it myself. But I could cut a couple of slices from the Strasburg Pie that sits in our freezer. Duckies are cute...all the better to eat ’em...and their livers are the cutest part of all.
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