Critter Cuisine, more Squirrellyisms, and what’s bugging whom


We just picked up this delightful book. If you think a dead armadillo serving as a dip bowl is just wrong, Squirrelly, Jr., is right there with you. If you think a dead armadillo that’s not holding a bottle of Lone Star beer is just wrong, I’m right there with you.

Squirrelly, Jr., while reading Critter Cuisine:

“Oh, God.” (successively louder with each turn of the page).

And finally:

“That is so, so wrong.”

The book is very funny. A few of the pictures actually are slightly disturbing, but the preface explains the intent:

This book is intended as a spoof of “gourmet” mania, but it is also meant to be a thought-provoking look at cultural food prejudices. Why would a sophisticated diner lick, with relish, the last traces of garlic-buttered snails (escargots) from his lips but look with disdain at a platter of tadpoles prepared in the same manner? Why would a person who, with great pride, tracks, kills and dresses out a possum for Sunday dinner be repulsed by a platter of raw fish (sushi)? Perhaps a little humor about our eating preferences can unite us in the celebration of our individual and cultural diversities.

Finally, Mama Squirrel recently discovered a great blog, Hungry in Hogtown. In a recent post, Rob discussed a dish from El Bulli, perhaps the greatest restaurant in the world. In a beautiful piece, Rob discussed both the preparation and the social implications of fried rabbit ears. Reaction ranged from praise to vitriol.

I personally loved the piece. It was a fascinating introduction to a dish that I never would have thought of. But more, it was a very insightful consideration of what happens behind the meals we eat. The piece that I love even more was Rob’s response to all the negative reaction. His response was a well thought out, polite, profound bitch-slap. I doubt that Rob would see it this way, but I do. What weapon did Rob use in his response? Chocolate chip cookies.

Rob points out that the chocolate in the chocolate chips may very well have been harvested by enslaved children in Cote d’Ivoire. The eggs are from chickens confined to small cages, chickens who have their beaks chopped off. The milk is growth hormone laden, and the wheat might have been a GMO nightmare.

Rob’s point, and the stance that we have begun to take as a family, is that no matter what you eat, if you look deep enough, you may not like what you see. Hopefully the view will inform your choices though.

Game food, part one
The new conscientious eating?