Monday, June 07, 2004 That's a fon-don't
Maybe I'd better go ahead and warn you, after the sensitive nature of the cow/horse debates, that my own parents have eaten horse meat. They were in Europe at the time. It was the 1970s. They fondued.
Later, they got caught up in more 70s bizarro-culture. Homesteading, horrible crafts. Now I'm grateful that they didn't attend key parties, or if they did, they have not yet decided that I am old enough to know. (As I typed that, though, a short film played in my mind: somewhere with wood panelling and shag carpeting, to a soundtrack of popular music they wouldn't like and the clinking of ice in cocktail glasses: a mustachioed gentleman trying to subtly explain to my parents the evening's true purpose. My parents never, ever catching on.)
When I was little, though, I had little basis of lifestyle comparison. I didn't go to school, we didn't have TV. My sister has always been quicker than I am, and she seemed to know from toddlerhood that we were living, by many standards, like savages. Improper interior design bothered her as much at age 8 as it does now, at age 45.
I played on the indoor outdoor carpeting and sat on the juice can stools, and I never blinked, but the first time I ever suspected my parents of moral fallibility was when I found out that they were capable of swallowing horse flesh.
It was a special occaision, possibly Christmas, and we were all gathered around the spitting double-boiler filled with hot oil. I had the forks with the blue plastic gems iembedded in the wooden handles. I speared pieces of raw beef and dunked them in the pot 'til they changed from pink to brown, and my parents spent a few minutes praising the dining culture of "the continent" over that of rural Virginia.
I forget how it came up: something about how some achingly provinical relative had been shocked to learn what they were eating. "Fondue?" I asked.
"Well," they giggled a little, "sort of."
They explained that everybody in Europe went around eating horses all the time, and it was OK. I don't remember if I got upset at the time or not, but years later I'd still catch myself looking at them and wondering how they'd let themselves get away with it.
Which is to say: it's one of my roommate's birthday today, and we're all going to the Melting Pot! In Towson! posted by Frenz | 6/07/2004 05:21:00 PM
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