Did you know that haggis is made by simmering sheep parts inside a sheep stomach? It tastes about as gross as it sounds. I ate a bite when I was in Scotland last year. I don't think I was able to swallow it.
Here is a photo of me in Edinboro. (There is no proof in the haggis. I don't think I took any pictures of me eating this Scottish dish. That is likely best for all of us.) I'll come back to the stomach.
On June 22, 2011 I will have lived in Denver for nine years. Just writing that last sentence makes me feel old. I love Colorado. There are many perks of the Centennial state. These include mountains, grocery baggers who ask if you want help to your car, sisters and cousins that live nearby, and property taxes that make people from New Jersey squirm.
Most of me has adapted to Colorado. My asthmatic lungs somehow like the lower oxygen level. My pesky sinuses enjoy the dry, mold free climate. My wallet (and my husband) like the reasonable cost of living.
However, one part of me has not evolved - my stomach. It stays true to its New Jersey origins. Colorado restaurants and food options leave something to be desired. I'll give one exception to green chili. There are chain restaurants everywhere you look, and a true mom-and-pop family shop is really, really hard to find. I'll bet you couldn't buy haggis in this state if you tried. (I'll pay you $5 if you find some.) I'm not really wishing for another bite of haggis. I'm wishing for some food with personality. My favorite personalities include a real bagel or an authentic slice of pizza. I'd even settle for a great chunk of buffalo mozzarella. If you know of the whereabouts, please tell me.
Case in point: A few years back, I sent my adorable husband out to buy me a salt bagel. Just thinking about salt bagels causes a spike in my saliva production. Not wanting to watch me drool, he went out to to find one for me.
Einsteins: "A SALT bagel?? Honey, there is no such thing."
That lady needs to get out a bit more. She is missing out on a very important piece of life. Maybe Einstein isn't so smart after all. Michael went to two more stores before finally giving up.
I've gotten pretty good at bribing my mother into bringing along a bag of my favorite bagels (Everything) in her suitcase when she visits. She even puts up with her clothes smelling like garlic for the duration of her visit. She loves me.
My stomach hasn't adjusted to Denver, and I'm not sure it ever will. I have settled on flying it back to New Jersey a few times a year. It's cheaper than the difference in property taxes.
