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London Morning
Dec. 9th, 2013 08:44 amThe city is looking very soft right now, all pink and blue clouds. I am awake, after a lovely weekend with in-laws and some excellent news from the family.
We visited Borough Market, always my favourite foraging ground, and the Turner exhibition at the National Maritime Museum. We watched Best Exotic Marigold Hotel, we drank champagne; and I did something I have never done before.
http://larians' mum plonked a fine brace of pheasants in front of me. I have been trying to eat much less meat because I am sick to my heart of death and blood, despite being a naturally voracious carnivore. But there were these two birds, shot last week in Devon somewhere, and it seemed pointless to discard them. Our guests thought we would appreciate the gift, and once upon a time I would have done. My decision was to eat the birds, provided I skinned and jointed them myself. It was terribly sad because they are so beautiful. I have never held pheasants prior to them being ready for the pot.
Still, http://larians mum showed me how, and I managed the business; cutting through the skin on the breastbone, pulling it out to the sides, dislocating the wings and legs, twisting off the claws, filleting the meat, looking for shot holes and fishing feathers out of them...it was strange to see the birds' crops, transparent, bulging with food they ate before dying. It all smelled pretty rank, and I personally felt sick. But at least I felt I had honoured the birds by trying.
Sometimes I think this journal has got a bit sad. It won't always be this way, I don't feel sadness all the time or even most of it. In fact, it feels like I am waking up.
We visited Borough Market, always my favourite foraging ground, and the Turner exhibition at the National Maritime Museum. We watched Best Exotic Marigold Hotel, we drank champagne; and I did something I have never done before.
http://larians' mum plonked a fine brace of pheasants in front of me. I have been trying to eat much less meat because I am sick to my heart of death and blood, despite being a naturally voracious carnivore. But there were these two birds, shot last week in Devon somewhere, and it seemed pointless to discard them. Our guests thought we would appreciate the gift, and once upon a time I would have done. My decision was to eat the birds, provided I skinned and jointed them myself. It was terribly sad because they are so beautiful. I have never held pheasants prior to them being ready for the pot.
Still, http://larians mum showed me how, and I managed the business; cutting through the skin on the breastbone, pulling it out to the sides, dislocating the wings and legs, twisting off the claws, filleting the meat, looking for shot holes and fishing feathers out of them...it was strange to see the birds' crops, transparent, bulging with food they ate before dying. It all smelled pretty rank, and I personally felt sick. But at least I felt I had honoured the birds by trying.
Sometimes I think this journal has got a bit sad. It won't always be this way, I don't feel sadness all the time or even most of it. In fact, it feels like I am waking up.
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