In college, I went to the cafeteria one day and saw a beautiful sight: chicken ala king. It looked, smelled and tasted great. I was eating huge forkfulls, when much to my friend Steves amusement, my throat slowly, slowly closed up until I could speak with only a squeak, like Arnold Stange after swallowing helium. I guess it was an allergic reaction, and I got better within hours, but to this day that chicken ala king was the single most delicious thing I ate at college -- not saying much, perhaps, but sometimes the things that taste the best are
not so good for you.
Last night, I posted about the absolutely deliciously wonderful urupan carnitas I bought during yesterdays Pilsen foray. When we got home Sunday night, The Wife said she felt sick since eating the carnitas and I just naturally assumed that she was wrong and that the marvelous carnitas could not be to blame. So I ate a bunch of carnitas and went to bed. This morning, during a morning meeting, my stomach felt weird. So I went home and ate a bunch of carnitas. Later, I felt totally sick. Carolyn then ate some carnitas, and she felt weird too.
So, I am concluding that the carnitas, those juicy roast pig slivers, jeweled with fat, and so full of flavor, those wonderful chunks I raved about last night, that I positively loved eating, that were so damn good, maybe made me sick.
There may be a moral (or scientific principle) here somewhere. If you know of one, please let me know.
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