Today I accidentally bought horse meat. For lunch. Harry, on looking at the label, refused to eat it and I admit a certain awkwardness and betrayal at not realizing what it was before I brought it home. I should be honest and say I also feel a certain squeamishness after I understood what I was dealing with. Before this knowledge I was excited about the potential of the meat. The [horse] meat sat on the counter to come up to room temperature for maximum flavor. I wanted to consume it with celery bits and yummy olive oil. I had already cut the celery into little bits. My intention was that we eat the meat raw.
I feel halfheartedly lame.