Duck, Duck,…Foie Gras!

By the beard of Zeus! It has been a while since I’ve posted. Well, when in Rome…or Ireland…

Actually, this summer has been so entirely wonderful and stressful that blogging has taken the backseat while my awesome life called shotgun.  Here’s a quick summary: I traveled to Milwaukee, Chicago, and Ireland; this cool guy Tony spent the past eight weeks here with me (which included adventures every weekend); I’m applying to grad school so I studied for the GRE every waking moment; and well,…hey. I can see you shaking your head. I realize that condensed version doesn’t seem like much. Ok, fine. I’m behind. Here goes. Let’s review THE LIST. My exciting life list! Yay!

  • white water rafting
  • zip lining
  • paddle boarding
  • be a model for a day
  • take a bubble bath in a clawfoot tub
  • eat caviar
  • eat foie gras
  • write a book
  • write my initials in wet cement
  • ride a gondola in Italy
  • ride in a hot air balloon
  • stand underneath a waterfall
  • slow dance with someone I love

As you see, the “eat foie gras” line item has been crossed through. Sort of like my movie conquest earlier this year, each thing on MY LIST isn’t something I expect to enjoy. It’s just on there for the experience. It’s just there to know I’ve done it. But nine times out of 10 I end up loving it. So, I will describe what eating foie gras was like. By the way, it’s pronounced like this: fwah grah. It makes me feel fancy to just say it.

Imagine butter for a second. If I Can’t Believe It’s Not Butter popped into your head, please, just stop. No. Country Crock doesn’t count either. C’mon, get real. BUTTER. Real-preferably pastured-butter is pretty much the most amazing food aside from bacon. If you say you don’t like butter, just stop trying to fake it because everyone knows you’re lying. It is impossible to not like butter.

Butter, softened, has the texture of pure magic. It is smooth, but not loose, and glides onto your tongue like the best kiss of your life. It can be romantic if you let it.

Ok, now that you’re considering going to the fridge and taking a little lick of your butter (butter-haters, I know you have some in there), let’s get back to foie gras. So, there you go; foie gras is just soft, spreadable chicken-flavored butter magic.

If it weren’t for the lucky bastards like Anthony Bourdain, Andrew Zimmern, and whoever else travels around the world like a total badass, eating all sorts of magical, buttery things, I probably wouldn’t have even thought about foie gras. I’m pretty sure there was an episode once where Anthony ate a hot dog topped with foie gras and his eyes rolled back like he was going to die right there-and die happy.

In all truth, I have a serious crush on Anthony Bourdain, so not to outdo him or anything, but my first time eating foie gras was in a castle in Ireland. That’s right, I stayed in a castle and ate fancy foods like a total traveling badass. Here’s a picture.


There it is, on the top left of the plate. Remember what I said about butter? Now, see the bread? Yep. That happened.

Foie gras. Check.


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