I feel like I should preface this story by telling you that it ends in both tears and vomit, so sensitive stomachs beware.
I don’t want to dwell on the sickening details, so I’ll cut to the chase. Tonight, Madame Jan served me this…THING…that resembled a giant penis more than any non-penis object I have ever seen in my life. But WAY uglier. If a flacid penis is gross, then this was something from Dawn of the Dead.
I thought to myself, “If I eat this, I will literally throw up and/or die.” Yet I knew that I must eat it. Or at least pretend to do so. So I stabbed the weiner with my knife several times, hoping to create the illusion that I had taken a few bites or at least distract myself from its choad-esque qualities. And then the intestines began to spill out.
For those of you who are unfamiliar with the “delicacy” that is andouillette, let me enlighten you. “Andouillette (French pronunciation: [ɑ̃dujɛt]) is a coarse-grained sausage made with pork intestines or chitterlings, pepper, wine, onions, and seasonings.” Woof.
Needless to say, I puked in my mouth a little. “This looks so delicious, but I ate a late lunch,” I tried. No, I had already told her that I ate a crêpe at 1:00. “I just don’t have an appetite tonight!” I had already told her I was hungry. “I’m feeling ill from all the…pollen?” She wasn’t buying it.
Then came the tears. First from Madame Jan, then from me.
Mme J: “You don’t think I’m a good cook!” **sob**
Me: “I just” **sob** “can’t” **sob** “eat it!”
Mme J: **sob** “I’m so ready for you to leave!” **sob**
Me: “Me” **sob** “too!”
Well, at least we’re on the same page about that one. Sorry for the sob story–no pun intended. See below for images of the infamous andouillette as well as Kat Bouzianis’s first experience with this French sausage.
“I was starving because I hadn’t eating anything all day, and decided to try to be très française and get an andouillette sausage off the street vendor. I’m not quite sure why I opted for sausage, since in general I’m not a fan, but I have had andouille sausage in the US and didn’t mind it. Furthermore, this sausage seemed different. And different, it certainly was. It tasted like a bad combination of old people and sweaty feet. After just a few more bites, I realized that there were hair-like things attached to the skin of the sausage bits from the animal. After almost vomiting up my meal, I threw it in the trash and ran for the nearest drink vendor to get something to wash it down,” -Kat Bouzianis.
Honey, I empathize.
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