Hungry after church on Sunday a group of us began talking about where we'd go for lunch and plans for the day as we waited for Rob to finish up his treasurer duties.
Somehow we got on the subject of sushi. Now, let me tell you that I am freakishly squeamish about meat. And I've made 22 squeamish as well. Not on purpose, but by being so careful not to leave a hunk of gristle or morsel of fat or, shudder, a blood vessel, in any meat product I prepare, she has learned to be wary of meat that is not cooked with strict adherence to anti-nasty procedures.
Sushi and I...we just aren't going to bond. Not a big fan of fish and something about raw fish really makes me weak in the knees, in a bad way.
Our conversation began to go to the bad place. 22 shared all about the freakish cutting, slicing and culling I do when prepping meals. I shared the worst meal ever. A taco vein salad. Yes. It is true. I ordered, against my common sense, a taco salad at a temporary food vendor stall. As I began to eat I hit a chewy rubbery substance that when examined was a hollow vein. Grossed out I looked for more and found enough that I dumped the salad and lost my appetite.
A friend who recently returned from Chile laughed and gave us the ultimate story topper. Trying to be a good visitor, she ate what was set in front of her. A large tray of many meats made an appearance one night. Picking the most familiar she thought she might have speared a chunk of chicken or pork. The meat was bland and had an odd texture, until she bit into something so chewy she couldn't break it down or swallow it and tried to subtly get rid of it. One of her hosts laughed. "Oh, you got a milk duct."
Moovin on, let's just say I'm not planning a trip to Chile.
