On 15 Apr 2008 01:06:35 GMT, "John F. Eldredge" <john@[EMAIL PROTECTED]
>
wrote:
>On Mon, 14 Apr 2008 08:22:38 -0500, BillGill wrote:
>
>> netcat wrote:
>>
>>>> Horses don't generally get turned into hamburger, even back in
1958...
>>>
>>> I've read it, and it was definitely a horse. Made me wonder a bit,
too.
>>>
>>> rgds,
>>> netcat
>>
>> Just one of those little plot things. Horses weren't supposed to be
>> turned into hamburgers, but horse meat is cheaper than beef, and as
long
>> as nobody knows... And the hamburger wasn't eaten by the person who
>> bought it. He took one bite and threw it away and it was picked out of
>> the trash by a bum.
>>
>> Bill
>
>When my parents were graduate students, back in the early 1950's, they
>once bought some horse meat at a Boston-area butcher shop, and had it for
>dinner. They said that it was rather tough, and somewhat sweet-tasting.
>They later learned that its intended use was for dog food, not human
>consumption. There are some cultures, even today, where horse meat is
>intentionally eaten by humans.
Back in the early '50 (I don't know how long the tradition continued) the
MIT
Outing Club -- Boston area again -- always had horse meat stew on their
overnight trips. They even had a parody song. The original was:
Look at poor grandma
Laying in her coffin
Isn't it grand to be bloody well dead
Let's not have sniffle
Let's have a bloody good cry
And always remember the longer you live
The sooner you'll bloody well die
became
Look at old Dobbin
Laying in the skillet
Isn't it grand to be bloody well fried
Let's not have a beef steak
Let's have a bloody rare mare
And always remember where ever you go
That Dobbin will always be there
More recently, I've had horse meat in a restaurant in Southern Italy last
year,
in the city of Lucca. The waitress asked me if I knew what I was
ordering. I
also had it in a restaurant in Biel, Switzerland some years ago. In Italy
the
dish was heavily sauced, so any distinctive flavor was hidden. In
Switzerland
it was a grilled steak, and was quite good.
P. Taine
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