a document of days

Have I told you of my interest in liver? It started quite some time ago,when I was reading Julie & Julia. In the book, Julie Powell eats liver, twice. Since the book is about cooking every single recipe from Mastering the Art of French Cooking, it's not surprising that I am still thinking of all that rich food. But it is surprising that it's the liver that sticks with me. This was the passage that really hooked me:

One very good and simple recipe for calves' liver is Foie de Veau a la Moutarde. Just dredge some thick slices of liver in flour and briefly sauté them in hot butter and oil, just a minute or so on each side. Set these seared slices aside while you beat together three tablespoons of mustard, minced shallots, parsley, garlic, pepper, and the bit of fat from the sauté pan, which makes a sort of creamy paste. Schmear this over the liver slices, then coat the slices in fresh breadcrumbs... Once the liver is well coated with the crumbs, place it in a baking pan, drizzle it with melted butter, and stick it under the broiler for about a minute a side. That's all there is to it. The crunch of the mustard-spiked crust somehow brings the unctuous smooth richness of the liver into sharp relief. It's like the silky soul of steak. (p. 220)

Ever since reading the above, months ago, I haven't been able to stop thinking about this recipe. I've questioned numerous friends and family members about their experience with liver and received mixed reviews all around. Theresa recently had it for the first time and enjoyed it; my mother ate it regularly while growing up and scrunches up her face at its mere mention (she says it's the smell that is so objectionable); and my grandfather, just as I had hoped, sat me down and explained exactly how to prepare it.

So, a couple of weeks ago, I nonchalantly jotted 'liver' down on the grocery list. Of course Ryan reacted to this stranger, not adequately camouflaged among the standard milk, eggs, and cheese; his eyebrows arched and he laughed to himself. To clarify, Ryan is an incredibly adventurous epicurean. I would be a much less experienced diner without him, thus I knew the eyebrow lift was clearly directed at me.

As we approached the meat section at the grocery store, I was excited to pick out my pink calf liver, but all we found was a package containing a very dark and lazy looking mass. Apparently there is a big difference between calves' liver and beef liver. There was absolutely nothing appetizing about this hunk of organ. I hated to walk away, especially under the I-told-you-so-gaze that Ryan was only slightly trying to conceal.

To be continued...