Hopelessly Unromantic

With Valentines Day long over, I am free to discuss.  I have, for much of my life, been called hopelessly unromantic.  This may be true as I am partial to logic but that doesn’t mean I can’t try.  Our valentine’s day was promising to be very busy this year since it fell on a Friday with company coming and a concert that evening.  But the late lunch of liver and onions was a hit with the men in the house.  Mark has always liked liver and onions while I …..have not.  It smells good, which is why I have tried it many and many a.  But I have not many times succeeded in getting it past my tonsil holes (only when dad was watching and the alternative was worse).  I had to try many things in my life (that don’t makes sense for me to eat), but liver must have the least texture next to pudding.  Let’s just take a look at those comparisons: Moose heart, moose tongue, moose kidney (the pattern here is due to the times dad took our family to Canada for moose hunting trips).  I was allowed to dissect and play with the moose brain since that must not have appealed to even my parents, who apparently had very few holds on what they were willing to eat.  I like dirt and water better than interior organs of large mammals.  It just seems weird to eat something that licks things, or pumps blood and has ventricles.  But the livers.  Those win on the weird scale.  The liver removes many potentially toxic substances from the blood.  It also breaks down fats, using bile.  This just doesn’t seem like something I should be eating.  Every time I hold a liver I wonder who first held one and thought “hey now *this* looks like something we should also eat”.   But then I’m sure I’ve never been starving.  Then I would eat it, after the dirt and water was gone.  But each year when Valentines Day rolls around, I turn into a romantic fairy princess, and cook up liver and onions for Mark and the Guys.  The rest of the year I’m just plain old pam.

Live Long and Prosper.