Did your parents
use to preach that doctrine to you? My mom’s voice rang in my head like a refrain as I read a recent thread on the New York Times Cooking Community Facebook
page. It all started when someone asked, “What’s the grossest thing you’ve ever
eaten?”
I know my brother
would say, “Spinach souffle.” It’s a legendary story in our family. But,
seriously, the answers were astounding. Many dishes came from Asia and were
things I’d never thought about eating—fried and dried insects of various kinds,
scorpions, squid on a stick. Whale and blubber were mentioned frequently, along
with kangaroo and tapir, sea urchin ceviche. One woman had dancing shrimp
salad, which turned out to be tiny live shrimp that “danced” because the
vinaigrette in the dressing bothered them.
There were a
couple of things I’d never thought of as objectionable, even if they’re not on
the list of foods I crave. I’m not fond of lima beans but how bad can they be?
And oatmeal? The reason given was, “It’s too slimy.” One person objected to one
of my favorite dishes, now sort of retro—sloppy Joe.
And there were a
couple we can all agree on, like muskrat. Phew, smelly! But margarine? I don’t
like the stuff, don’t eat it or cook with it, but it’s not really gross which,
to me, is an extreme category. Then again, it was invented during WWII to
fatten fowl for consumption. And we eat it?
But what astounded
me was the number of dishes I like that were on other people’s lists. Blood
pudding—well, I don’t particularly like it, but it wasn’t bad. I had it in
Scotland, and when I asked the B&B host why they added blood to the oatmeal,
he shrugged and said something about using all parts of the animal. Bone marrow—as
a kid I fought with my brother to get the little bit of marrow inside the bone
in a round steak, and today I’m delighted that it’s on trendy menus in larger quantity.
Kidneys—lamb, never beef; my mom chicken-fried them with bacon and served with
ketchup, especially for my Anglophile dad. Today I’d like to try to see if I
still like them, but you have to order a case which seems excessive when all I
want is two. I had hoped they’d be on breakfast menus in Scotland but no such
luck. Escargot—my ex-husband taught me to like that delicacy, though I admit
what I like best is bread soaked in the rich garlic and butter sauce—forget the
little critters. And pickled herring—in the late sixties and seventies, I used
to put large bowls of it out for our annual holiday party. Today, I get the
feeling nobody but me eats it.
To nobody’s
surprise, liver was frequently mentioned. Many of us have childhood memories of
being told, “Eat your liver. It’s good for you.” My mom was a terrific cook,
but she didn’t get liver right. Like most of her generation, she cooked it
until it was well done, sort of like shoe leather. I remember dreading the nights
we had it for dinner. But now I can cook it so I really like it—and you
probably would too, if you’d try. Lemon juice makes the difference—it cuts the
gamey taste.
Liver
and onions
1 lb. calves’ liver
Butter
Diced onion
At least one lemon
You
can cook the liver in serving-size pieces or in finger-size strips. Either way,
squeeze plenty of lemon juice over both sides of the raw meat and let it sit
briefly. Then flash fry in butter (no substitutes). The meat should still be
soft, rather than hard and overcooked. Quickly remove meat and cover with foil
to keep warm. Sauté diced onion in remaining butter, scraping up bits from the
pan. If necessary, add more butter. Squeeze more lemon juice into the butter
and onion mix and pour over meat. Serve quickly. Nice with mashed potatoes and
a green vegetable.
As for that line
about politeness, I’ve tried it on my grandchildren, and it doesn’t work. I think
it’s an old-fashioned thing.
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