
To many an anemone
The fear is any Yemeni
Who ofttimes like an enemy
Sauteed and slightly lemony
To many an anemone
The fear is any Yemeni
Who ofttimes like an enemy
Sauteed and slightly lemony
The rule for pomegranates reads:
Discard the pith and eats the seeds
A feat that calls for more bravado
With our friend, the avocado
Our friend, the snail, need never pack
For all it owns is on its back
It heads out on the open road
Quite unencumbered by its load
Snails never need to book hotels
Instead they curl up in their shells
Emerging when they feel the need
To partake in an evening feed
We mock the snail, its sluggish pace
And yet some pay to watch them race
Ironic, say the French, and crude
Who view them solely as fast food
Went out with friends for Christmas Eve lunch at The Pu Pu Pot. Everyone was a regular, except for Steve, who stopped eating Chinese food after watching a Channel 4 documentary on bats. Whilst perusing the menu, Laverne casually asked if anyone had ever tried shirako.
“Sounds Japanese, not Chinese,” I said.
“The Japanese call it shirako, you’re right,” she confirmed, “but it’s popular throughout Asia.”
“What is it?” Steve asked, trying to locate it on the menu.
“It’s an exotic delicacy. Most foreigners won’t touch it.”
Laverne was up to something.
“It’s the raw male genitalia of fish which still contains the seminal fluid and all the sperm sacs. It’ll be called something different in Chinese.”
Steve turned gray.
“They liken it to runny cream cheese,” she continued, breezily.
“Another time, guys,” Steve muttered, grabbing his coat.
Although we pleaded with him to stay, he’d heard enough.
“Never really liked him,” Laverne remarked to no one in particular, as she motioned for the waiter. “Are we ordering starters?”
“Poor Steve, but at least now he won’t have to try shirako,” Alison giggled.
“They don’t serve it here. Never have,” Laverne reassured everyone. “Anyway, it’s an acquired taste.”
So is Laverne.