Anger Burger

I couldn’t decide where to go for my birthday because there’s bazillion places I wanted to eat, including a $1.50-a-slice pizza joint.  But if there’s one thing I know how to do, it’s prioritize my eating.  It’s actually only one of seven things I technically know how to do.

Enter: Animal!

My dining companion was Mike, also known as The Reluctantly Domesticated Viking.  I took this photo of him.  Isn’t he charming?  You’d think twice before swearing eternal vengeance against him for razing your village and spoiling your women.

I suggested he take a photograph of me for Anger Burger, and I got this:

True story.

Animal’s menu changes daily, but there are a few regular items.  One of these – chicken liver toast – was the only item I was 100% sure I knew I wanted to order, and I let loose the dreaded Julia Roberts guffaw when we arrived and I discovered that it wasn’t on the menu today.  Of course it wasn’t.

That’s okay, because there’s like eight things I wanted to order anyway.  First¹ on the list: poutine.  But, clearly not poutine.  I have to admit some disappointment here, though it’s my fault for not doing some research.  I knew it would be highly fancified poutine, and I was ready for it.  Except, I wasn’t ready for it to have shredded sharp cheddar in place of the mild cheese curds, nor a pile of oxtail meat (called “gravy” on the menu) instead of actual gravy,and despite this being fucking delicious, it just wasn’t poutine.  It was, however, a plate of french fries covered in braised oxtail and beautiful cheese, so there’s that.

Bone marrow.  Mike was actually sort of confused about this, despite being a Viking.  To be fair, I’m not certain they cook their meat at all, so I can understand his befuddlement. The bone is slow-roasted to render the marrow tender – the texture of creme brulee – and topped with chimichurri and caramelized onions.  You scoop this all out as a condiment for toast.  And I use the word “condiment” as one might refer to dynamite as a “firecracker”.

The problem was that after the “poutine” and the marrow, I was already full.  I hope you understand how mortified I was.  That was it.  My body was basically all, “Alright, that’s 2,000 calories right there, we can all pack up and head home.”  But then I was all, “Fuck you, body, it’s my birthday and I’ll cause you discomfort if I want to.”

Speaking of discomfort, how about some fois gras loco moco?

I’m afraid you read that correctly.  Animal is pretty well known for this dish, and at $35 a plate I am certain we’ll never order it again.  However!  Hemorrhaging money is the spice of life, so we had to do it.

And it was pretty fantastic, I must admit, though at the end of a already unintentionally meatfantastical meal (I mean, it wasn’t like I didn’t know what I’d ordered, but I definitely wished somewhere midway through the bone marrow that I’d ordered a salad or a purge bucket or something) it was a bit of a wrecking ball to the guts.  My cholesterol level was making my vision blur.  Mike had no trouble plowing through it, and much to my amazement I was way more interested in the rice than the meat.  The rice!  I can’t explain it.  It was so perfectly cooked that it was almost like a palate cleanser.  I’m kidding, was actually struggling to remain conscious at this point.  All the blood in my body pooled around my stomach and liver in an effort to keep the ship from sinking.

Tomorrow I’m eating only celery.  And cake.

¹ Not actually first; I first ordered the pig ears with chili, lime and fried egg, and then had a last-second panic attack and changed the order to poutine.