Not So Wurst

Livers. What good can I possibly have to say about these metallic, acrid, little organs? They are, well, they are what they do: blood filters. And that’s what they often taste of – hemoglobin and bile, iron and acid. I eat them, sometimes.

I’m not fond of all livers. Calf liver is far too metallic. That of a rabbit is harshly unpleasant on the nose. Fish livers are generally bitter. Sautéed chicken liver is passable. Duck more so.

The most famous of livers, and tastiest, is, of course, that of the goose: foie gras. In some cases these poor fowl are force-fed alcohol and fatty foods so that their livers become swollen and succulent. Many people feel bad about this. To them I say: “It is an evolutionary disadvantage to be tasty.” Remember this, readers, as I will return to it like a mantra.

I’m getting a bit side-tracked. No goose livers here. My favorite way to eat liver is to cook a mixture of duck and chicken livers lightly in butter with a mix of bacon and onions and mushrooms and brandy and port and spices like cinnamon and star anise and then blend the absolute fuck out of them before passing them through a fine sieve into pots and cooling them until they set, capped with butter or duck fat. I eat the resulting pâté on toasted sourdough with cornichons and red onion marmalade.



If you think I’m going to give away my pâté recipe just like that you must be stupid.

I’ll tell you how to make red onion marmalade sometime soon. I promise.