Friday, September 7, 2007

Liver Satyricon: When the man comes around

Alright then chef, the man is in the house because somebody accused you of cooking and selling duck liver. If you has been accused of selling duck legs or breasts or duck fat on toast, he probably wouldn't be there.
And you wouldn't be having worry about whether or not the dishwasher had burned the labels as per you instructions. And you certainly would not be having to face reading your name in the newspaper because the man didn't find any liver in your wlakin, but he did find cockroaches. (see Inspectors looking for foie gras at Cyrano's find something worse)

But WTF? You live in Chicago, where the social scientists on the city council have decided that an effective way to reshape the moral fabric of a dangerously depraved dining public is to ban the sale of duck liver.

When you discovered that the liver you had loved since the first day you tasted it at your grandmother's house in France was slated to be banned for sale, you were incredulous. But that's because you did not know then that your grandmother hadn't lovingly coddled the goose so that it grew fat and succulent. What she was really did was torture the poor thing by shoving a tube down it's throat and tearing it's esophagus to shreds while pumping in huge amounts of grain so that it's stomach exploded and it choked to death on it's own vomit. Then she gouged out it's liver with a knife, pulled the veins out of it with her teeth, doused it with alcohol and baked it in it's own fat. In other words your grandma was guilty of the same vicious crime that the farmers who force-feed ducks and geese, and chefs who cook them are guilty of.

So chef, pull yourself and your business back together. And for heavens sake don't worry. If the people who convinced the aldermen to enact the ban on foie gras have their way, soon you won't have to worry about having to keep track any labels from any type of meat product at all. See, those people want to ban all animal products -even the leather in your work clogs. Of course you could always go underground and work a la Speakeasy. But then the smell of cooking meat might be too easy to detect. Hmmm...perhaps you could go a la japonaise and do an all shashimi menu? I know, vacuum-bag (sous-vide) everything and cook it in water!


Scotty said...

"I know, vacuum-bag everything and cook it in water!"

Ahhh, so we are back to "boil-in-bag" Cooking!

Tags said...

"Of course you could always go underground and work a la Speakeasy. But then the smell of cooking meat might be too easy to detect."

Reminds me of a story from the cognac chapter of Henry McNulty's "Drinking in Vogue." It seems that the Nazis in France during WWII had a foolproof method for finding hidden caches of cognac. Just go to the highest point in town and look for black roofs. There is a black fungus that grows on the roof wherever cognac is stored.

Anonymous said...

Like the liver police don't have better crimes to solve.