The other day, the day after the manta ray, I ate an ox tail. Or at least, one vertebrae of an ox tail. Well, for the past month I thought I'd been eating ox, but really it turns out my dictionary is wrong, and the word is used for bull. Which now, after extensive online research, turns out to be very similar to an ox, and is a mere question of timely castration. But let us not get too distracted by which animal it was, and instead remember that it was still a tail.

This week too I got to observe chicken feet being eaten. But luckily there were only two feet, and not enough to go around.

I have been assured that they won't feed me borchada without notice.

But liver is next on the menu.

All this has made me think of the somewhat gross luxury we developed societies have to think we are rich enough to only desire part of an animal, and as far as we care, the rest can be thrown away. That is simply not good stewardship. So I'm a little ashamed of my own reluctance to eat all this.