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| - Dear Black Hoof,
It has been some time since I vacated Tawrana for the Big Apple and already the cravings for your comforting edibles have started to hit me like a flood as winter creeps forth. Granted I'm aware that NYC has a lot to offer in terms of gastronomical delights and exotic food adventures but will I ever find a suitable stand-in for my addiction to meat, salt and fat here? A casual yet happenin' enough place that takes me as I am in my slob uniform of flip flops, sweat pants and badly wrinkled graphic T's? Or a wonderful bar featuring a crafty mixologist by the name of Jen who makes slammin' cocktails depending on your choice of poison. Yea you know it, these of some of the reasons why I adore you so.
My SO scoffs at all the fuss I've made over you and mutters that I'm being melodramatic but pay no heed to him. I'm sure if he had a taste of your moist tongue sandwich spiked with tarragon mayo or your smokey, gorgeously fatty pork belly pastrami he would concede and relate.
How much do I adore you? I saved up my moolah and time during my last week up north to pay visit to you for my last dinner in Toronto. Armed with my good yelp friends Dale and Christine and my mother in-law in tow, we stormed your tiny establishment for a night of feasting and drinking. More specifically, I came back because I wanted to savour your charcuterie again and try your famed raw horse sammy. Needless to say, you did not disappoint our maws' as we tore into your charcuterie plate of pates, sausages and cured meat with the vigor of a defensive line. And the horse sammy-YES, it was every bit the sandwich of my dreams with its mind-blowing combination of diced raw horse, sliced onion, capers and hot sauce piled high on some rustic, crisp bread. The raw horse was a healthy crimson red and had a plush mouth feel not unlike tuna tartare. Outstanding. The egg yolk (a must for this dish) on top served to push this fantastic sammy further into the gastronomic stratosphere, enveloping the meat in a luxurious texture and binding the hodgepodge of flavours together. My MIL and I were politely fighting over the remnants of this dish at the end of the meal, narrowly staving off confrontation. I'm also pleased to report that you passed the MIL test, at the end of our gut-busting meal, the normally prim lady with the stoic reserve of a typical Scandinavian remarked brightly: "oh MY, that was a good meal!"
Alas, now we are miles apart and I am pinning and scheming for a return to the big smoke so I can enjoy your creative goods once again. When I boarded my flight out that fateful day, I pulled out the En Route magazine in front of my seat only to see your tongue on brioche sammich artfully and boldly displayed on the cover. Sadness! And now I hear that you are featuring pig's blood pasta and cherry-marrow beignets! Why do you tempt me so?! It may be months till we meet again!
Until then, keep on stuffin' and packin' the meat for me.
D
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