Enterovore.

So, after re-reading Monday's post, I noticed that mentioning "Bull" and "Oyster" in the same sentence brings up that unavoidable correlation: The fois gras of the foothills. The ten-gallon truffle. Calgary caviar.

The Prairie Oyster.

And even as the idea lit upon my consciousness, I got a sinking feeling in my stomach. That familiar foreboding that comes right before I tell myself, "Well, why don't I?". I'm honestly starting to get tired of that sensation, but it seems to be an indelible part of my nature. I don't play Nomic; I play Gastro-Nomic.

I'm not really looking forward to calling up butchers at random, and asking if they have any bull testicles. Yet, at the same time... you know what? This is exactly what I missed the most when I was a vegetarian.