For those of you from the great state of denial, I don’t have a friend named Horse, and I did not set another place at the table for a horse. When I write that I had horse for lunch, I mean that I had horse for lunch. My friend brought in a plate for me, and I was very humbled by his thoughtfulness. It looked and tasted almost exactly like Roast Beef that your mom made for Sunday dinner, but it was a little different. Not bad at all. And I was assured that this was no plow horse, but a yearling that was very tender. I was asked if I liked the taste, and I said that it was very good. “Yes, that is why we eat them,” was the reply I got.
Posted in Dave/Ann Blog.