This doesn’t answer the perennial question of “which species is better, cats or dogs?” but it definitely settles the issue of which species is more badassery.
In other news: my nephew poochie is home and resting as comfortably as one can in the dreaded cone of shame. My sister won’t have the test results until late next week but the vet said the surgery went well and the tumor appeared to be encapsulated which is a good sign. So thank you, everybody, for the doggie prayers.
On the kitchen front, Raj and I are cooking pheasant tonight for the neighbors. I don’t as a rule cook wild things as my tolerance for “gamey” flavor is limited. I have a staple of venison dishes that ameliorate that issue and I’ve done both elk tenderloin and an elk roast that turned out delicious. On the other hand some farm raised lamb is too gamey for my taste: I prefer the New Zealand because it’s milder and fully recognize that it is unconscionable on my part to eat meat with such a large carbon footprint.
But back to the dinner – don’t ask; I would normally not take on the preparation of wild birds. These were shot by our neighbor, which means bird shot. In the birds. Raj’s job is all the prep work which at this point involves a stud finder and a strong, neodymium magnet.
I’m not a very happy camper but like many tales involving doing things you don’t really want to do it’s a long story that involves a fair degree of human drama that I can’t elaborate on but we got sucked into. The upshot (no pun intended) being a pheasant dinner in our dining room tonight. I don’t like gamey things so this is the recipe I’m using. I figure I can fill up on sauce and mashed potatoes.
Wild Pheasant In Mushrooms and Wine Sauce
Finally, don’t miss Kurt Schlichter’s latest on the stupidity of socialism and socialists who promote it: You Bernie Suckers Are Going to Get Fooled Again.
Let me briefly address your whiny protests.
Yes, I say “socialist” like it’s a bad thing. This is because it’s a very bad thing. Like, to the tune of 100 million corpses bad thing. I’ve actually lived in the ruins of socialism and you, well, you had a man-bunned sociology TA tell you it was swell. And you believed him because you are a dupe. Be glad that I am assuming that you are stupid instead of the only other reason one would ever cavort with these blood-stained goblins: that you are evil.
I’ve got to go brine my birds so have an enjoyable day wherever you are.
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