First meal of the day: a duck and hen egg cooked in the leftover fat from the beef tongue I crisped up in the leftover fat from the sausage I cooked in the leftover fat from yesterday’s duck breasts.
And that’s not even taking into account my ancient cast iron pans that only get a swipe. I think if someone did a DNA sample of those, the list of leftover bits that just keep getting recycled into our next meal would be endless.
How many layers of flavours is anyone’s guess, but judging from taste, I’d say whatever the formula is for deep satisfaction and nourishment – we got it.
All that food washed down with a generous cup of icy cold, raw goat milk. The goats must be getting into some mighty tasty fall plants right now because all I can taste is sweet, floral, fruity notes in the milk. My guess is the abundance of asters and blackberries are making an appearance in my glass.
Screw the terroir of wine. Our food should carry with it the flavours and nutrients of place, of season, and of the unique biochemical makeup of the animal from whom it came.
This idea of standardizing flavours and animal foods, including eggs, meat, poultry, and milk, is a bullshit construct made up by the industrialized food peddlers. As if a steak from my steer should or could or would ever taste like the steak from a steer in Alberta. Or, as if the steak from my four year old Red Poll steer would be the same as the one from my fifteen year old Jersey.
And why would we want it to taste the same?
We need to get better, train our bastardized palettes off the corn fed, bland animal foods the grocery stores try to sell us as normal, and search for those deep, nuanced flavours that are one of our greatest allies in identifying nutrient dense, real foods.