Let’s talk for a minute. Really talk. About a serious subject.
Today’s subject is the ingredient “veal cheek.” These days, I’m finding it in all sorts of dishes in the Queen City.
Veal cheek: (vee-el che-eek)
A cut of veal derived from the face of a baby cow.
(Definition courtesy of me.)
Translation? Baby. Cow. Face.
Now, maybe there’s an excess of baby cow faces out there, or maybe this is some sort of effort to use more of the animals people eat and be less wasteful. I’m all about being more efficient and everything, but seriously.
In fairness, I’m generally against veal. I think grown cow tastes better and got to live an unchained life, hanging out with all the other happy cows I get to see in those California cheese commercials (because that’s how I learn about agriculture. Happy cow commercials.) Veal, on the other hand, remains barbaric in my mind. (Lots of people have argued about this with me, over what constitutes “veal”, as well as the term “humane,” but feel free to chime in in the comments if you feel strongly about consuming baby cow.)
So can we go back to the days of sneaking cow tongue into things? Because, well, I’d rather eat tongue than face. At least this way, I can pretend it’s tasting me while I taste it. And that’s only fair.
Or, better yet, more steak for all.
But I lubs da veals. nom nom veals. That said. Face. Ew. I don’t do pig cheek, I don’t suck crawfish heads. The head isn’t a part for eating. It’s the part for making an ashtray. or a fancy mask.
I would trade any of the my early sexual experiences for braised beef cheeks. SO. SOOO GOOD.
TAKE MAH MONEY!
The key term here is “BEEF” before “cheek”. Like, made of a grown up cow.
Stop eating babies, you monster. Also, why would you ever braise face when you could braise short ribs?