September 24 , 2010
My butcher’s selling something new, something grim. It looks disturbingly like Seabiscuit.
I feel alone, among strangers.
Nearby Catania, the city under Etna, has long feasted on horse. They grill it over red-hot coals, and turn it into a great big horse-burger.
Do you believe in following local customs when you’re in foreign lands?
I’m repulsed, but curious.
Should I? Would you?