I made a mistake today. A bad mistake.
Jim and I went out to the Ft. Worth Stockyards to take some photos, and decided to grab some lunch at
Riscky's Steakhouse beforehand. The waitress, while taking our drink order, asked if we'd like some calf fries as an appetizer. With some gravy. Cause everything tastes good with gravy, right?
I honestly thought I'd ordered french fries and some gravy to dip them in, but when they got to the table they looked like this - today's photo.
I grabbed one and dipped it in the gravy and ate it. It had a strange consistency and tasted a little like liver. I started to get nervous, and then Jim suggested maybe they were little bite-sized chicken fried steaks.
Fortunately, with the technology of the Blackberry, I was able to Google calf fries and the first thing that popped up was mountain oysters. I know what mountain oysters are. They're testicles. I'd just eaten a calf testicle! ACK!
For some odd reason, I picked another small one and ate it. Then came the sick feeling. I'm a very picky eater, and the thought of what I'd just put in my belly was too much. After realizing what they were, Jim decided not to eat anymore either. They were making me sick just to look at them, so I hid the small plate in the bread basket and covered it with a napkin. The waitress later asked how we liked the 'fries', and both sheepishly admitted that we didn't know what they were before ordering. She claimed to love them, and that's fine - she can have them!
I now know not to order mountain oysters or calf fries ever again.