“When you look at a pigeon, you might see a dirty, rat-like bird that fouls anything it touches with feathers or feces, but I see a waste-scavenging, protein-generating biomachine.”
“But as part of this 65 percent not-kidding thought experiment, let’s assume that there’s nothing horrifically bad about eating pigeon.
“Really, all pigeons need is a re-branding. Just as the spurned Patagonian toothfish became the majestic Chilean sea bass and the silly Chinese gooseberry became the beloved kiwifruit, pigeons can merely reclaim their previous sufficiently arugula-sounding name: squab.”
The idea that nobody eats pigeon is remarkable to say the least.
Reid sent this interesting NYT story about burgers in Paris. It made me feel a bit ambivalent, as many things Parisian do. Some of them sound delicious, but the pretension!
““It has the taste of the forbidden, the illicit — the subversive, even,” said Hélène Samuel, a restaurant consultant here. “Eating with your hands, it’s pure regression. Naturally, everyone wants it.””
““It’s not just a fad,” said Frédérick Grasser-Hermé, who, as consulting chef at the Champs-Élysées boîte Black Calvados, developed a burger made with wagyu beef and seasoned with what she calls a black ketchup of blackberries and black currants. “It’s more than that. The burger has become gastronomic.””
Whatever you say, Frederick.