Jun Dishes

verb/diSH/ : food or sex or gossip or fiction in real life

Halloween Buffet

I just came home from lunch out with family, and because it’s Halloween the universe sent me a trick in addition to any treats.

BOO!

It was a restaurant with an additional buffet. I personally love buffets because I love food. There are good buffets and shit buffets, and I’ve tried all kinds. Today turned out to be a Halloween buffet. What’s a Halloween buffet? I made that up to describe what happened today…

Today at lunch, there was a choice of four meats and I took a little bit of all of them. One looked like pork, and one looked like beef, one was a liver dish, and the last one was blood sausage. I personally love blood sausage, because I grew up on the Korean version called soon dae. It’s not for everyone, but I love it. Don’t know what it is? Think blood and think sausage.

The horror!

Not really, and that’s not even the most Halloween part of this lunch. I sat down with my plate at our table for six, and we wished each other smakelijk which is the Dutch equivalent of bon appétit. I took my fork and knife and dove into my plate. I cut into what I thought was a piece of liver. I personally love liver, and all its liver friendly variety.

It wasn’t liver. It was a tongue. It was a tongue on my plate. Not mine, but still a tongue.

Gaaaaahhhhhhhhhh!

I wanted to make a bigger deal about it, but I had to suppress my dramatics for the sake of the family and those partaking in tongue at the table and all around me.

I’ve had tongue before, sliced up. When I was six. My grandmother used to make it, and her mother before that. Davy’s grandmother used to make it. Davy’s mother’s grandmother even used to make it. Maybe even your grandmother or great-grandmother used to make it. Still makes it?

I don’t know. I nearly cried realizing it was some animal’s (probably cow’s) tongue on my plate disguised in a Madeirasaus “sauce.” It was all shrunken up like a baby animal’s tongue, not that I’ve seen many animal’s tongues…

My grandmother never covered tongue in sauce. Koreans were gangster and steamed a whole big tongue and sliced that shit up and dipped it in some soy-sauce or shrimp paste. Either way, tongue is not for me.

Now if that tongue had started talk to me then this story would end a lot differently. Instead, I’ll just wish you all a good lunch with or without tongue today. It’s your prerogative.

Happy Halloween Thursday!

Always dishing,

Jun

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