my first response–as i’m sure the majority of the urban viewers of this video–was disgust: SQUIRREL melts!?
then i thought about it: Mz. Huntress and Hunter Jr. are clearly not picking these guys off at a hundred yards from an apartment overlooking Washington Square Park. no: their quarry lives in a largely natural habitat, far away from urban slime, grotesque food surrogates and the occasional nutjob taxi driver looking to create an organic speedbump.
a similar moment of foodthought happened in my restaurant a few months ago: chef trotted out a seared squab breast appetizer, complete with sauteed brussel sprouts and a deliciously gooey red wine reduction. digging in to devour as much as i could, i stopped and offered a taste to another server, the lovely miss katie stock. she grimaced and said “No way, dude–squab’s gross.” i had to think for a moment, and then i remembered: squab is the culinary term for pigeon. i looked at the medium rare, nut brown slice dripping with crimson; it didn’t LOOK dirty. i sniffed: it didn’t smell like a rat with wings. and why? because chef wasn’t setting traps above the dumpster out back: he’d more likely trap a homeless man than a city pigeon. i refocused on the squab slice and took a bite: it was the taste of an animal in the country. and you know what? it was gooooooood.
May 16, 2008 at 4:57 am
my first response–as i’m sure the majority of the urban viewers of this video–was disgust: SQUIRREL melts!?
then i thought about it: Mz. Huntress and Hunter Jr. are clearly not picking these guys off at a hundred yards from an apartment overlooking Washington Square Park. no: their quarry lives in a largely natural habitat, far away from urban slime, grotesque food surrogates and the occasional nutjob taxi driver looking to create an organic speedbump.
a similar moment of foodthought happened in my restaurant a few months ago: chef trotted out a seared squab breast appetizer, complete with sauteed brussel sprouts and a deliciously gooey red wine reduction. digging in to devour as much as i could, i stopped and offered a taste to another server, the lovely miss katie stock. she grimaced and said “No way, dude–squab’s gross.” i had to think for a moment, and then i remembered: squab is the culinary term for pigeon. i looked at the medium rare, nut brown slice dripping with crimson; it didn’t LOOK dirty. i sniffed: it didn’t smell like a rat with wings. and why? because chef wasn’t setting traps above the dumpster out back: he’d more likely trap a homeless man than a city pigeon. i refocused on the squab slice and took a bite: it was the taste of an animal in the country. and you know what? it was gooooooood.
so…why NOT squirrel melts?