cadavers over dinner

 {phlegm: a love story chronicles Y's finer moments as a true romantic scientist. See the rest of the love story here.}



The girl and the boy sit close to each other in a corner booth. It's their anniversary dinner, and they've chosen a popular new restaurant that specializes in meat and bourbon. The boy has a beer, the girl has a champagne cocktail. They toast to three years of marriage and two months in their new house. 


The waitress sets down a platter of exotic meats. She points to each one. "Pickled heart macella, summer truffle sausage, turkey braunschweiger, wild boar head cheese." Translation: beef heart, sausage, turkey liver pate, and boiled boar head.


The girl gingerly takes a bite of sausage, the one thing that appears safe. The boy takes a bite of pickled heart and nods approvingly. "This is delicious." The girl tentatively pokes at it with her fork, working up the courage to take a bite. 


The boy continues. "This is actually really tender. I would expect heart muscle to be tougher than this, since cutting through a cadaver heart is so difficult. Now the psoas muscle --on an animal, that's where you get a filet, and the human muscle is similar -- you can slice right through that muscle."


The girl vomits.


Just kidding. The girl is used to this. She smiles, nods, and does not eat the pickled heart macella.