A Culinary Odyssey

This Entry Was Written By My Dog

Even after a hearty repast of good kibble fortified with egg, the more subtle canid may well feel that something is missing.

A bit of elegance not found in a plastic bowl, perhaps? A rustic yet (quite literally) refined finish for day's end? For who are we, if not the descendants of wolf kings and queens, who once laid claim to all the proceeds of a vast and varied wilderness?

For this peculiar yen, fellow hounds, let me recommend the yard-truffle.

As I started my journey 'round the accustomed acre this evening, I made pause under an aged crabapple tree still sporting last Autumn's tart and shriveled fruits. How could I not but indulge in some deer-droppings, redolent of acorns and sweet tree barks, concentrated in flavor and texture by Winter's dry kiss?
Heaven.
Cleansed the palate with several mouthfuls of cooling snow, and moved on apace, nose to the ground lest other morsels should elude my appreciative maw.

Further afield, at woods' edge, ah! This is the place. Atop a short rock, as if on a platter made just for me by God; small black curls full of fur and seeds. The rough digestive work of the Grey Fox will not go unappreciated this evening, by the three heads of Cerberus!
Faintly mousey, and definitely rancid, with a 'chewy' background of bone and berry, is how I would characterize this vintage.

Mouthing the turds contemplatively, and looking out upon the great snowy expanse, I took my sweet roughage, and ignored Laura (the clucking Hen!), shouting something from the House.

Still, sighing and yet licking my chops, thought it better to trot smartly on to the next course, if one was to be found on the return loop.

And LO. At the edge of the garden, it all but called to me.
There is no mistaking the eye-watering pungency of a fresh cat crap. If I had seen that little blighter on my rounds, I'd have given him what-for!

Ah, well. And well and good, and me full up to the brim with snow and shit, I think I'll bring this most precious of finds into the house, for my dear Laura. She always makes such a fuss over my little tokens.

posted by Laura. at 11:42 PM

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