Remember those chicken hearts? I decided to kick it up a notch. $6.00 at the local halal butcher will get you a full goat’s liver with lungs attached. How could I pass up a chance like that?
I started with great confidence, let me tell you. I had it all planned out. The onions cliced length-wise like I prefer them. The tomatoes cut ridiculously thin to that they’d dissolve quickly and spread their flavour around. The spices specially picked out and set aside in perfect quantities. All looked good.
The trouble started with the smell. Though I suppose it wasn’t really trouble, but a foreshadowing of it. It stunk. It stunk while it fried. It stunk while it boiled. It stunk the whole two hours I spent cooking it.
But I’m not discouraged from a task so easily! I poured my heart and soul into the lung/liver combo of glory. And it actually started looking good. I was even, through deft handling of heat and herbs, able to keep the nauseous smell to a minimum. And, to top it all off, instead of making plain, home-made roti, we ordered some glorious naan from the nearby Afghani restaurant. I was hopeful.
But hope, at times, is not well-founded. The first bit told us that. The second bite confirmed it. The third bite assumed we were crazy for continuing.
It reminded me of the immortal Robbie Burns:
The best laid schemes o’ Mice an’ Men,
Gang aft agley,
An’ lea’e us nought but grief an’ pain,
For promis’d joy!
I tried my best. But it wasn’t good enough. I’ll try harder next time, but let’s face it. Our best laid plans gang aft agley.
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