Seattle, Washington
What’s for dinner? Says the cook:
Marrow, parsley and caper salad, with Udi’s gluten free bread.
View From Your Table
4 Responses to View From Your Table
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MH - Secular Misanthropist says:
Eating marrow bones grosses me out, which is weird of me because I at a whole lobster out of the shell last night. I guess it is what you are used to.
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EngineerScotty says:
I’m half tempted to make spaghetti with catsup and margarine (I’ll have to substitute for the road-killed deer), take a picture, and send it in.
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Eli says:
EngineerScotty said:
I’m half tempted to make spaghetti with catsup and margarine (I’ll have to substitute for the road-killed deer), take a picture, and send it in.
Do it! But would it dampen your pleasure to know that that’s as cosmopolitan and traveled a dish as the marrow? I have warm memories of watching my 90-year-old grandfather eating with great relish that very thing (sans the roadkill — Hindu vegetarian) at a table in his sealed-concrete living room in New Delhi.
He had a grandchild whose heart skips a beat with desire at the sight of marrow bones, though.
Seeing the marrow bones reminds me of a nursery rhyme I learned as a kid:
Taffy was a Welshman;
Taffy was a thief.
Taffy came to my house
And stole a leg of beef.
I went to Taffy’s house;
Taffy wasn’t home.
Taffy came to my house
And stole a marrow bone!
Taffy was a Welshman;
Taffy was a thief.
Taffy came to my house
And stole a leg of beef.
I went to Taffy’s house;
Taffy was in bed.
I took the marrow bone
And broke Taffy’s head!”
Ah, nursery rhymes! Violence and racial stereotyping! Do kids even learn nursery rhymes any more?
(BTW, I learned later that “Taffy” is (more or less) the Welsh pronunciation of Davy, also known as David, or St. David, patron of Wales — as it happens, my patron saint.)