Asked my New York friend James, a man with a good appetite and an adventurous one, what he thinks about meatloaf sandwiches. His response was,
Don’t eat the loaf. If I’m gonna eat meat, I’ll opt for a rare steak or burger.
And I wrote, Funny. Don’t eat the loaf sounds like a command. How bout choppped liver? Thinkin he must eat chopped liver now and then.
And he answered,
Only once a year at a Passover seder … and only from a known source, like my Aunt Harriet or Artie’s Deli.
Why do we need to know what is in meat mixtures and want to know the source, but are unconcerned about other unknown mixtures? Is this primordial?
I too eat chopped liver, but I eat meatloaf as well, and other mixtures that might put fear in your heart.
Used to make chopped liver, pretty often, from my friend Joanie’s recipe, but it’s been a while. Who around here would eat it now? Well, me.
Here’s what’s in it:
JOANIE’S CHOPPED LIVER
2 pounds chicken liver, floured lightly
2 medium onions
4 hb eggs (hardboiled)
S & P
My instructions are typed with a typewriter. I believe it was a baby blue Royal Safari. I loved that typewriter.
Mince onions.
Sweat one onion in butter.
Add liver and cook until done but not overdone.
Grind all together in a meat grinder; not a food processor (I have one of those, a meat grinder that is, around here somewhere.) Season well.
I corrected the typos, charmingly antique as they were.
That’s it. Good on a corned beef sandwich. Good on a cracker.
Count your blessings, this recipe has no shmaltz so you don’t have to wrangle any. Nothing wrong with schmaltz, I just think it is not a standard pantry item. Joanie goes for butter, fine Wisconsin gal that she is. Butter is so nice in a skillet.
This chopped liver thing brings to mind a recent self-revelation.
I’m a closet JAP. Not anymore. Not since I started typying this. Now I can stop fighting it and embrace my stereotype. Had dinner with a first cousin recently who said, “She could not afford herself”. Bingo! The hair, the nails, the clothes, travel and jewelry, the granite foyer and Mercedes. Well, not the granite foyer, that’s not me. I cannot afford myself, and have sentenced myself to a lifetime of hard work to support my (very optional) lifestyle choices.
Aha, I have cracked my code. Primordial indeed. Took me long enough.
Oil of Oyvey
The Lunch Encounter 