Five-Hour Goat

How I Learned to Love Goat Meat.   With apologies to Burque Babble's pet chevron, I cut and paste below from the April 1st  New York Times piece by Henry Alford.

Their unappetizing visage is simultaneously dopey and satanic, like a Disney character with a terrible secret. 

My conversion moment came this February when I went to the West Village restaurant Cabrito and had the goat tacos. This hip taquería-style restaurant — which is named after the baby goat that is pit-barbecued in Texas and Mexico* — marinates its meat for 24 hours before wet-roasting it over pineapple, chilies, onion and garlic. The resultant delicious pulled meat is tender throughout and slightly crisp and caramelized around the edges. Think lamb, but with a tang of earthy darkness. Think lamb, but with a rustle in the bushes. Think ... jungle lamb.

Suddenly I was go go goat. I wanted to order goat in as many restaurants as possible. Shortly into this process, a friend asked me, “Is it gay meat?” Confused, I said, “There’s nothing gay about it at all.” She explained, “No, I said is it gamey?”

*New Mexico too. 

Comments

[scot]

I thought of reading the NYT story...but it was too painful. Just too painful. It's also painful when someone walks down the ditchbank next to my "ranchette", points to my goat and asks me "how much for the big, fat goat?".

They have to wipe their mouths as they ask, the salivation is so intense.