I know immediatly that I have , just with the title, lost half of you.
The enjoyment of offal does seem to divide the world into two, those that do and those that don’t.
(And I rather fear that those that do are the smaller half)
I’m a do.
Probably even more of a do now than ever before because my wife is a don’t so offal, in the shape of liver and kidneys rarely hits the table in the Dwyer household.
I have, as a result, spent most of the last 36 years hankering after the uneatable so, when the chance comes for a bit of indulgence, I pounce.

Síle has preceeded me to Ireland on a quick trip back to that wet green isle of ours, I join her for the w/e so I have two whole days here to indulge in my secret vice.
The one thing about offal is that it adapts excellently to solo living.
Cooking a stew, or a roast for the single diner is just too much of an effort.
Slipping a piece of liver on a pan, or a few kidneys is a perfect exercise in elegant cooking for one.

On tuesday morning I went to the village and bought my self a slice of veal liver and about 5 lambs kidneys; my affaire des abbats was about to begin.

Tuesdays dinner was classic French ;
Foie de Veau Lyonnaise

For this I sliced an onion finely and cooked it slowly in a teaspoon of butter until very soft.
Then I cooked the slice of liver, nicely seasoned with salt and lots of black pepper, just as slowly, in another teaspoon of butter until that was pink (make sure not to overcook, but also it needs to be pink not red in the middle, just keep cutting into it to check-after all no-one but yourself is going to see the end condition)
Reheat the onions in the liver pan, spoon over the liver and indulge.

Wednesday I declared Lambs Kidneys’ Day.

Now I love kidneys cooked in the Spanish fashion, in sweet sherry.
This stretches easily to any sweet fortified wine or port.
Unfortunately when I went to the cupboard it was bare of anything sweet.
I had dry as a bone Manzanilla or dry Noilly Prat Vermouth.
In desperation I grabbed a bottle of Sloe Gin, my last from Ireland (and if the truth be known, not made from gin at all but an illegal substance which I cannot mention publicly)

So I carefully halved , skinned and took the cores from the kidneys, seasoned them well, and fried them slowly, turning occasionally, until nicely pink all through.
Then I turned up the heat, poured in about three glugs of Sloe Gin (pardon the technology) and then doused the flames with a tablespoon of Creme Fraiche.
I swirled the pan about on the heat until that made a sauce and then entered offal heaven.
I think I may have to patent this one, the difficulty will be sourcing the “gin” in France, and the Sloes for that matter. (I have seen some but they are a little small and mean).

So that’s it really until the next time.
The good thing is that while rooting in the offal counter (a place previously taboo) I found some sweetbreads, the one piece of offal that Síle does enjoy.

Anyone for Riz de Veau ?