The Offal Truth

Shortly after writing my last post I came to a disappointing realization. I was not, as I had previously thought, a contender for the title of gastronomic daredevil extraordinaire. Sure, I had cooked some seriously ballsy meals in my time, but up to that point I'd never actually prepared an organ. I had eaten my share of them and had rustled up a few things that could certainly fall under the heading of offal, but never once a kidney, or sweetbreads, or brains. I was such a pussy! Why?!

Oh, right. Liver.

In my experience, there is no such thing as so-so liver. When prepared by a skilled chef it is absolutely divine, an ambrosia of the gods kind of good. However, at the other end of the spectrum it can end up utterly abysmal. Imagine, if you will, some black stygian underworld where the souls of murderers, child molesters, and anyone who's ever carried a chihuahua in a handbag are punished for their transgressions by being endlessly force-fed ineptly-cooked bites of this insidious meat. Lucifer himself couldn't devise a more harrowing torment. Really, it can be that bad, hence my hesitation.

Still, I didn't need to be quite so paranoid about the whole liver thing. When all else fails, takeout is always a viable option, and besides, it wasn't as though I hadn't had my share of disastrous culinary mishaps. One fateful night, in a vain attempt to make cilantro chutney I even managed to open a portal to hell in my blender. There's no other explanation for what was in there when I was done. And my first try at polenta? Well, that ended in the creation of a level five stovetop abomination. It started spitting blobs of scalding hot goo two feet into the air for goodness sake! Now that's something to be avoided. In comparison, liver should be a snap.

So I decided to go for it. In order to maximize my chances of success I chose to make not one, not two, but three different recipes for liver. Surely one of them would be edible.

Let us begin with liver venture number one. For my first organ meat endeavor I selected an egyptian formula for the preparation of lamb's liver. It was simple, just fry everything up with a bit of garlic, cumin, and cayenne. Nothing could be easier. It was quick, elegant, and completely impossible. After spending half a day driving around in an oppressive heat, I discovered that there isn't a single butcher in these parts that stocks lamb's liver. It was a no-go.

Not to fear though, I had two more chances. For the second, a veal liver cooked with fresh figs, onions, the juice and zest of a lemon, and a teaspoon of fennel seed. It was a breeze to make, and everything went according to plan right up until the end. I sauteed my onions, added the liver, etc. So far, so good. Then, as I was about to pull it off the heat, it happened. The meat began to sweat blood at an alarming rate. What should I do? Was this supposed to happen? I was concerned about overcooking, but I was more concerned about the fact that it was bleeding. So, I gave it a few more minutes and hoped for the best.

The best is very definitely NOT what I had. It was slightly overcooked as I had feared it would be, and as of this evening, I now consider the combination of lemon and liver to be the very worst idea ever conceived in all of human history. Venture number two? Failure.

Finally, I made an indian chicken liver curry. Eventually everything in my kitchen gets transformed into curry. It's inevitable, like death. Anyway, I cut up my livers, threaded them onto skewers, and marinated them in yogurt. In the meantime, I chopped up some onion, ginger, a whole head of garlic, and celery, an ingredient I had up to this point never seen in a curry paste, and I make a lot of curry. Just call me Lister. I cooked all of this up with some spices and ghee, and took a gander at what I had ended up with.

Was it good? Of course it was good, it was curry! Although, I would advise anyone tempted to try this to forget the skewers. It turns out liver is really slippery, and if you braise it as long as the instructions say to it sort of disintegrates just a bit. This results less in food on a stick than food with sticks in it, but otherwise . . . SUCCESS!! HUZZAH!!

Who's a pussy now?