Wednesday, May 9, 2007

The Road Taken

As far as I know, I’ve only eaten roadkill twice. The first time, I was dosed — I knew my friend to be a hunter, and thought the venison I was eating was the victim of first-degree murder. Then my friend said “well, when I found it…” and I realized we were talking involuntary deerslaughter. It was roadkill, and of uncertain provenance, too – not organically free-range run over by my friend, but run over by someone else and discovered freshly dead alongside a Colorado highway.

I forged ahead through my steak. It wasn’t bad, but I later had regular old premeditated-murdered venison and it was better.

The other time was just last weekend, the morning after the Derby party. Our Louisville-born hostess fired up the crockpot for the gourmet roadkill brunch of Foolhardy Grouse That Thought It Could Take on a Ford Focus. I had a small slice of white meat, and it tasted fine.

Late last night, driving home from the ferry after working late, I swerved to avoid a possum. Because I looked at its leering, underworldy face, and did not feel hungry at all.


5 comments:

Magpie said...

"Foolhardy Grouse That Thought It Could Take on a Ford Focus" - LOL. You travel in eccentric circles. I've never eaten roadkill. We do however have the better part of a whole pig, in pieces in freezers up and down the Hudson valley. Better part meaning that as yet only the head, feet and several chops have been eaten.

Bill Braine said...

I think it's safe to say that once the head and feet are gone, what you've got left is the "better part."

wcs said...

Remember what they say in France : tout est bon dans le cochon...

Amy H said...

and remember what they say in Alabama: mmmmm...possum

BarbaraCA said...

What if it had been waddling toward you swathed in a lemon butter sauce?