Eat Me

Okay, now you guys are going to know how nuts I am: I don't care if I get eaten.*

After I'm dead I really don't care what happens to my body.  If someone wants to eat me I'm fine with that. Just for God's sake make sure I'm prepared properly!

I've had a couple of meals in my life where I've thought, "you know, if someone was going to eat me I'd want it to be this way."  I actually told one of the chefs that if I was going to be cooked after I died I wanted him to do it.  I think I weirded him out.  Do you know any chefs?  It's not easy to weird them out.

Tonight Pete and I went to the Highland Kitchen.  One of the things we ordered was the Pig and Pickle plate.  I believe that the crispy confit changed my life.  To me they looked more like deep fried pancetta - thick chips of bacony pork, crispy as all get-out.  Smoky, salty, rich but not greasy or overwhelming.  Holy cow!  To me that's respect: cooked pig perfected.

If someone wants to eat me after I die that's fine with me, as long as I'm FRIGGIN' DELICIOUS!

*I am not so weird that I want to be eaten alive or that I would choose to be killed for food.  I'm sure that many of you (perhaps all three of you) who read this blog feel similarly when you think about it.  Once you're dead you're probably not going to care about anything at all.  Also, there are plenty of weirder things about me than this.