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Horse

May 15, 2010

I have lived in France for 8 years now.  So, a lot of things I have gotten used to.

The language?  No problem, I can swear like the rest of the Frenchmen, always make myself understood.

The Parisian Metro?  No problem either.  I can get you from point A to point B with barely a glance at a map.  Once you figure out how it works, it is frighteningly easy.  Then spend  few years trotting around Paris and you’ve got most of the lines mapped out in head.

The Prefecture de Police?  Where all the important documents are delivered?  Yup, got that one down too, although I have to admit being thrilled about not having to go back for 10 years.  That is until we move.  If we move.

The one thing to this day that I am deathly afraid of being served in France is, well, horse.  Yes, the French eat all kinds of ‘strange’ things.  Innards, tripes, brains, rabbits, horse…  The average Frenchman doesn’t bat an eye at this fare.  A lot of it is considered a real delicacy.  And so, everywhere we go, even invited as guests I always ask before eating any sort of red meat, if it is horse or not.  I could probably choke down rabbit if need be.  But the other stuff, I’d have a real hard time with.  Especially horse.  Why do they eat that!?  I could understand perhaps during the war when people were hungry and there wasn’t a lot around, desperate times call for desperate measures.  And I even understand and find it very applaudable that nothing is wasted when an animal is destined for the dinner table.  I mean, if all we ate off a chicken were its breasts then there would be a lot of waste.  But, horse?  And that is why the following was one of my first real good questions I got down in French, “C’est du cheval?” Because I am all about, ‘when in Rome’, but a girl has to draw the line somewhere, and being a vegetarian in France is really, really hard.

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One Comment leave one →
  1. Kellie permalink
    May 17, 2010 7:50 am

    I’m with you there, girl!

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