Foie Moi: 5 Reasons Aliens Will Someday Happily Devour My Liver
I'd bet my liver is extremely tasty. Tender, too.
I am very proud of my liver. It allows me to drink and really gives me no trouble. Once when I contracted the kind of mono only living in an NYU dorm during a summer internship can incubate, my liver swelled up so huge I could see it poking slightly out of my abdomen. I was happy to see it — heyyy buddy! Who's a liver? We got through high school and college together and I will always be grateful for its filtery goodness and steadfast reliability.
Should aliens someday infiltrate our planet and eat us, I am confident, so long as they butcher us properly and don't just toss us down like popcorn, that my liver will be especially prized. As you might imagine, I eat some pretty great stuff. Great stuff makes for a great liver. Great livers make for happy aliens, happy aliens make for...what the hell is this phantom Stockholm Syndrome I'm already experiencing? What did I fall asleep watching last night?
Anyway, I nominate my liver for their gustatory delight with the highest standards of quality assurance. Here's why:
- My hard alcohol consumption is limited to a couple of gin cocktails now and then, I'm really more of a beer/wine gal. To tell you the truth, I'm kind of a pathetic drinker for a food writer. Except this one time.
- My corn consumption is through the roof, as I typically avoid wheat. If you could apply the gavage technique to pork tamales, I'd be completely down.
- I drink 3-5 cups of strong green tea every day. That is one oxidant-free liver, I tell ya what.
- I am more or less entirely sedentary, save for a twice-weekly trip to the expensive hamster wheel known as New York Sports Club.
- Other delicious things I eat frequently enough that I'm confident my liver would be among the tastiest of the apocalypse: oysters, ghost chilis, jamòn, stone fruit, eggs from super-happy chickens and again, pork tamales.
I always thought my demise would be food-related, not lame like the worst food poisoning ever (which by the way, I survived in Morocco, thanks camel brains), but like, accidentally ground into very attractive sausage, or purposely braised in red wine after being knocked unconscious with a sausage. Definitely sausage-related. And if it comes to pass that aliens come in search of our most nutritious innards, I'd like mine to go out with dignity.
More of my weirder lunches on Food Republic: