Albert's Dinner

Last night we had borscht soup, two salads (beet and greens) and then Emma gave me a plate of a grain pilaf with a chicken leg which had been cooked with the borscht. Then she gave Albert a plate of pilaf with a small head, which had been cooked with the borscht. It was not a chicken head. (He eats sheep heads regularly, by himself with vodka.) It appeared to be a cat’s head based on the size though the nose was too long and the teeth were too sharp. Albert’s eyes lit up like two candle flames as he contemplated his delicious meal. I decided not to ask what it was for fear I’d get sick. (Today I wish that I had asked.) This is when life gets difficult, as I hold onto my stomach and try to be culturally sensitive, and not express my inner emotions!

Postscript: Albert was eating a rabbit head.