I didn’t say anything when she hacked up fish heads or when she set the boiled lobster down right next to the live one (She had one that she called Bertha Behemoth that was a 20-pound lobster! It seriously looked like something from the age of the dinosaurs – it was HUGE! If I’d known 20-pound lobsters existed [and she said there are stories from the 1700s of 40-POUND LOBSTERS – can you even imagine?!], this dream would have been a LOT more disturbing.) or when she kept rubbing the chickens and not washing her hands or when she made sausages, but I can no longer stay silent.
She’s making tripe.
She has the entire stomach (all four of them!) with her on the counter and it’s sort of sloshing around and making horrible, slimy, squishy noises! I mean, I wouldn’t have it any other way, I guess, because it’s good learning-wise (not that I’m ever going to make tripe, but still…) but it’s just…SO…HORRIFYING. (She keeps calling it her ‘bathing cap’ which it does look like, but, and this is another reason why I love her, every time she says it, I get the feeling that she’s trying very hard to not actually going to plop the thing on her head – not that I think she would actually do it, but I think her sense of humor would think the idea of doing it was funny.) And apparently, tripe is the regional dish of Normandy and she’s showing us a postcard from Caen:
WHY IS IT SERVED WITH A HOOF?!?!?!?!?! DO NOT WANT! D: OMG, SHE HAS A BEEF FOOT IN HER KITCHEN TO SERVE WITH IT! AND A PIG’S FOOT!
Can you actually even buy tripe anymore?
To keep that from scarring you for life, do keep scrolling – the hypercute cupcakes in the next post should do the trick.