Say, “Hey, I wanted something with a decent IQ here.”
It’s just that I’ve never been much for internal organs.
I could bring along a massive supply of Altoids… I’m sure Altoids and brains don’t go together. Since Altoids are the best thing ever, they’ll give up brains.
Yeah, that’s the ticket.
Ike, I’ll keep that in mind. Thanks for the tip. 
Watch out andygirl they’ll strike back with that dreaded French weapon… Flavigny Violet Pastilles. Your altoids will crumble in the face of the assault.
Of course you could say something like “no thanks, I prefer the whole head, freshly ripped right off the body.”
[Yellowbeard]
Won’t be the first head I’ve eaten…
[/Yellowbeard]
For some reason that well placed bread comment made me laugh/snort something fierce. I think a piece of brain shot out my nose.
Ow.
Can you send it over? I’ve got a case of the munchies…
Feh. You just want to corrupt the French with altoids.
Double Feh. You just want an excuse to bring altoids when you go. You know they check for those things at customs;)
“I think a piece of brain shot out my nose.”
Fill up on bread.
This site said, among other things:
“On the other side of the dining experience, the bourgeois menu was simpler and more directly in touch with foods available regionally. Seafood was often the heart of a meal, and fresh vegetables combined with simple bread and wine completed it. In place of rich meats which might not be available, local sausages, kidney, brain or tripe served as a substitute.”
FWTW. Might well be a regional thing as . . . well, cohogs are/were. But it’s not like it’s (in my experience/gathering from reading) a delicacy so much as that it’s something to eat. Like tongue.
This whole thread provokes two things with me.
-
A seriously spasming gag reaction.
-
Curiosity about what foods Americans think are normal and take for granted but that people outside the U.S. find bizarre and revolting.
American cheese.
Deep fried cheese curds.
Deep fried mars bars.
Pork rinds, hot dogs, easy cheez, cheez whiz, altoids (obligatory in any andygirl thread) . . .
funny… these aren’t american. I can make cases for some of the others too, but these aren’t even made here.
People outside America find hot dogs revolting because hot dogs outside America are revolting. I read an article recently about a guy who owns a hot dog chain in the US who wanted to expand into Britain, but complained that there wasn’t a decent frankfurter to be found anywhere in Europe. (Not to be confused with people from Frankfurt, many of whom I’m sure are decent.)
Many Brits I’ve spoken to have found the concept of penaut butter and jelly sandwiches revolting (even after I explain that that’s “jelly” as in jam, not “jelly” as in “Jell-o”).
Well, that may be true of Britain. Some of the things I’ve eaten called “bangers” have included more oatmeal than meat.
But, fer chrissake! GERMANY? Germany produces and consumes so many different kinds of sausage the typical American hotdog-eater would go blind from confusion.
And that’s just the most obvious example. The French make great sausage. All the Germanic and Slavic countries make great sausage. And I ate a piece of grilled lamb sausage in Sicily last year that brought tears of pleasure to my eyes.
Shit, Oscar-Meyer ain’t even in the running when it comes to Great Sausages of the Western World.
Yes, but while hot dogs are sausages, not all sausages are hot dogs.
Sure, I’ve had a variety of fine sausages here and there (and some really bad ones – New Years 1999/2000 I had some wursts in Prague that, while I’m sure they were mostly comprised of animal parts, I couldn’t tell you which animals or which parts, and as for Germany, let me just say Wiener Wald – were they supposed to be green?). And true, I never had a bad meal during my time in Sicily (one particular meal still gives me flashbacks, it was so good).
But I’ve not seen anything resembling what I would consider a real hotdog. YMMV.
Several options (all tongue in cheek. I don’t advise really trying them):
You’re at a restaurant, they order brains for you as a special treat. When a big pile of prefrontal lobes appears, throw a tantrum. The French are used to food tantrums: “You’ve put beschamel (sp) (or whatever) sauce on the brains? Beschamel sauce? I don’t know who you think you’re serving, but I am fully aware that only a bernaise sauce is appropriate. You might as well have doused them in ketsup. No, no…don’t go get a new plate. After that monstrosity, I can’t bear to see brains again. A slice of prime rib, cooked rare, some mashed potatoes, a small salad and a glass of wine will be all that could settle my stomach.”
If it’s in their house, however, a tantrum isn’t appropriate. Bursting into tears, however, is completely appropriate. Look at steaming heap o’ brains. Quiver your lip. Then explode into sobs. Regain control slightly. “<snnnnniiifff> I’m sorry…it’s just that Geoffery…<sob> Geoffery was my fiancee’…We were to be married <sniff>. Cow Brains were what brought us together. It was a small resturant and we both ordered the last portion. We shared it and it became our dish. Then, a week before the wedding, I found Geoffery and my Bridesmaid in bed together eating Cow Brains! <burst into tears> I’m sorry…I can’t bear to ever eat brains again. <sob>”
Fenris
mmmmm tongue in cheek… one of my favorite dishes. mmmmm
Oldscratch, there is no way that my eyebrows can raise any further.
Now, Fenris, explain to me how you knew my secret? You’re not… oh, Gods, don’t make me track you down for revenge…
Now I’m trying to figure out if I should be honest or not. I know that they want some sweeping statement about accepting cultures and stuff…
I had something different in mind.
“I would say no because I’m afraid of mad cow disease. However, I think your larger point is that I will be occasionally served food which I do not necessarily want to eat. As long as it’s not brains, I say bring it on.”
My god, doug. Besides everything else, 3500 mg. of cholesterol. So I couldn’t even be talked into it on the grounds that it’s healthful.