It's What's on the Inside That Counts

We, as a society, are accustomed to eating flesh.  It goes without saying that this Western society eats animals.  Culturally, pigs, cows, fowl, fish are all game.  And yet, for the most part, we neglect the inside:  the Offal.  Kidneys, livers, heart, thyroid gland,........brain!

I know.  Brain is no longer really an option.  Not since Mad Cow.  But I remember sitting in my cousin's kitchen as his wife prepared brain for his birthday.  "It's his favorite!" she smiled at me.  It smelled delicious.  I went to play with the children.

Liver and onions was one of the first meals I learned to prepare by myself.  It helped me through college.  (Liver and onions is cheaper than McDonalds!)  The blood bank marvelled at my iron count and asked me for more.  (I obliged)  Later I added balsamic and toasted pecans.  Even Yummier!

Chicken livers are even better.  Breaded and fried, I pop these in my mouth like candy.  I roll them atop my salads, puree them into a pate, and, seriously, place some on a little plate with a cool white wine:  tapas perfection!

And that thyroid gland.  These are in my top 5.  The thyroid gland of a sheep or veal is called sweetbreads (I know...What?!)  My chef first introduced us in cooking school.  He brought me a bowl full of sweetbreads soaking in milk, showed me how to carefully peel off the outer membrane, and then we coated them in flour and lightly sauteed them.  Lightly browned, crunchy on the outside, creamy warm on the inside.  I think I swooned!  My chef beamed like I had passed some secret test.

I have dreamed about boudin since I first had it in the French countryside:  black sausage with sauteed apples flambeed with Calvados and cream.  Black boudin literally melts in your mouth.  Sometimes it has tiny specks of Granny Smith apple in the sausage.  You can find it with onion, too.  My  tablemates, including my French man, were smirking terribly as I asked for thirds, and then passed the blood sausage down the table.  It took me a few minutes:  Blood sausage?  Really?  My stomach started to lurch, but my brain and heart told me to get over it, and I managed that third helping quite fine.

Put a plate of andouillette sausage in front of me with a little pot of mustard and I'll enjoy it thoroughly:   white sausage stuffed with chopped onions and intestine.  Take me to a South American BBQ restaurant and show off those chicken hearts!  Paper-thin tripe sauteed in brown butter and parsley...mmmm. 

I realize that some people can't do it.  They are Meat-Eaters, not Everything-Eaters.  I get the whole texture issue, the smell, the idea in your head that keeps you from enjoying it even if it does taste good.  I won't argue with you.  I'll tell you this, though:  putting offal on the menu is the sign of a knowing chef.  Look for sweetbreads and you can have confidence in anything coming out of that kitchen.  Not every chef can pull off tripe, and it takes belief in your clientele to put liver on your menu.

A suggestion?  Pour yourself a red wine and put some little cornichons on a plate with some liver pate and toasted baguette slices.  Close your eyes, breath a little, and there you are:  Sitting in a little cafe next to the Farmer's Market, your basket of fruits and vegetables at your feet.  You're taking a French break, thinking about dinner, but it's far away, and you've got your afternoon ahead of you.  Everything is still possible.