The one you've been waiting for.
Whilst wandering through the streets of Mirlift I received a little bit of inspiration of how to accomplish a food dream of ours that we've had for a while. As soon as I got back to our accommodation I went and spoke to the restaurant owner at Des Pecheurs and asked if I could get my hands on a particular cut of meat could he cook it for us. He gave me a bit of a strange look then laughed and nodded yes.
The following day we set off on the hunt for the not so highly sought after cut.
My inspiration had come from the open air butchers along one of the roads in Mirleft, where plums hung proudly, ripe for the picking. We walked up to the first with just a smidgen of adrenaline pumping through our bodies but after some pointing, and extremely inappropriate fondling by the butcher, we were just laughed at and sent on our way. Bollocks... But we don't give up that easily!
Onto the next butcher. After similar gesticulation, this time with me doing the fondling, the butcher whipped two goodies out of fridge and placed them on the scales. We weren't ballsy enough to take both, so chose the plumpest one along with a few bits of beef to go with it and off we headed with a brown paper bag filled with that night's dinner. On Des Pecheurs' owner's recommendation, tagine was on the menu.
The hours ticked by that afternoon and as each passed our nervous excitement built. Before we knew it a head lamp flickered around the corner and coming towards us was the tagine with our names on it. And, if you hadn't already guessed, it contained a rather hefty Rocky Mountain Oyster, a fruit of the farmyard, half of a bull's manhood. Yes, a big dirty testicle.
After a quick bit of digging, I fished out said testicle to the gasps of a couple of Sydneysiders. We're much less civilised in the Wild West you see.
It was time to grab the bull by the, well, ball, I suppose. It made a juicy little squelch as I cut it into pieces and Nix and I dove in.
It was cooked to perfection in a beautiful, oily, beefy sauce. The gelatinous, fatty, soft exterior gave away to a texture that was something like a slightly course pâté, something similar to soggy breadcrumbs and very much like the flavouring of an entire slab of beef jammed into one tasty morsel. Oh, and it was particularly nutty of course.
Needless to say, the flavour and experience was everything we'd expected and everything that we hadn't.
The rest of the tagine was delicious but the headline act stole the show.
Do we need to have a bull's testicle again? Probably not. The flavours and textures were good but not great.
Would we eat testicle again? Probably. If someone told us that sheep's, goat's, frog's, camel's testicles are the superior testicle then we wouldn't hesitate.
Where to from here? Maybe something of the phallic variety we think but for the time being when we get asked, "what's the most exotic thing that you've eaten?", testicle has moved to the top of that tree and will proudly sit atop it for a while.
I hope you've made it this far and if you have I hope you enjoyed reading about it as much as I enjoyed eating it and writing about it.
Barrie-ometer of feel - click me!
Whilst wandering through the streets of Mirlift I received a little bit of inspiration of how to accomplish a food dream of ours that we've had for a while. As soon as I got back to our accommodation I went and spoke to the restaurant owner at Des Pecheurs and asked if I could get my hands on a particular cut of meat could he cook it for us. He gave me a bit of a strange look then laughed and nodded yes.
The following day we set off on the hunt for the not so highly sought after cut.
My inspiration had come from the open air butchers along one of the roads in Mirleft, where plums hung proudly, ripe for the picking. We walked up to the first with just a smidgen of adrenaline pumping through our bodies but after some pointing, and extremely inappropriate fondling by the butcher, we were just laughed at and sent on our way. Bollocks... But we don't give up that easily!
Onto the next butcher. After similar gesticulation, this time with me doing the fondling, the butcher whipped two goodies out of fridge and placed them on the scales. We weren't ballsy enough to take both, so chose the plumpest one along with a few bits of beef to go with it and off we headed with a brown paper bag filled with that night's dinner. On Des Pecheurs' owner's recommendation, tagine was on the menu.
The hours ticked by that afternoon and as each passed our nervous excitement built. Before we knew it a head lamp flickered around the corner and coming towards us was the tagine with our names on it. And, if you hadn't already guessed, it contained a rather hefty Rocky Mountain Oyster, a fruit of the farmyard, half of a bull's manhood. Yes, a big dirty testicle.
After a quick bit of digging, I fished out said testicle to the gasps of a couple of Sydneysiders. We're much less civilised in the Wild West you see.
It was time to grab the bull by the, well, ball, I suppose. It made a juicy little squelch as I cut it into pieces and Nix and I dove in.
It was cooked to perfection in a beautiful, oily, beefy sauce. The gelatinous, fatty, soft exterior gave away to a texture that was something like a slightly course pâté, something similar to soggy breadcrumbs and very much like the flavouring of an entire slab of beef jammed into one tasty morsel. Oh, and it was particularly nutty of course.
Needless to say, the flavour and experience was everything we'd expected and everything that we hadn't.
The rest of the tagine was delicious but the headline act stole the show.
Do we need to have a bull's testicle again? Probably not. The flavours and textures were good but not great.
Would we eat testicle again? Probably. If someone told us that sheep's, goat's, frog's, camel's testicles are the superior testicle then we wouldn't hesitate.
Where to from here? Maybe something of the phallic variety we think but for the time being when we get asked, "what's the most exotic thing that you've eaten?", testicle has moved to the top of that tree and will proudly sit atop it for a while.
I hope you've made it this far and if you have I hope you enjoyed reading about it as much as I enjoyed eating it and writing about it.
Barrie-ometer of feel - click me!
