I killed an eggplant today.
Two, actually. And I am not ashamed to admit it. They were delicious. I cut the tops off of fairy tale globes and scooped out the insides, stuffed them full of garlic-y turkey bolognese sauce. Baked in a frog shaped clay dish, I served them with aside of penne and Romano cheese.
And I'd do it again. They were delicious. I wager that if they had known they would be so tasty, they would have prepared themselves for my lunch.
This isn't the frog baker. It's an opossum effigy bowl made by indigenous Indians Hud and I saw at the Pink Palace last Sunday. Cute, huh?
I wish all of my baking dishes resembled animals. I own frog, pig and chicken bakers, a pig molcajete and a Oaxacan fish salsa. This one is an owl. Heeeeee.
I wonder if I might have some Quapaw in my lineage.
This is a cat serpent bowl. They were the chupacabra of the Quapaw. It's how they got their children to eat their vegetables and do their homework.
I will have to draw the line at human dish ware. Having my oatmeal out of the open skull of a random head is unappetizing somehow.
But the animals? Always make me smile.
