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Photos  © J.Lowe 2009

Despite my desire to create a different kind of food blog, I could not resist the following surrogate posting in the interim.

How could I resist the offer of a deer heart from my good friend?  I had asked for the liver but his arrow went straight through it, turning it to mush.  Considering the fact that this dear friend is both a hunter and a photographer who recently lost sight in his seeing eye, my desire to create something from his travail was foremost in my mind.

It is quite something to hold a heart in one’s hand.  A deer heart is quite large, almost the size of my ‘should have been a piano player’ large feminine hand.  It is firm and cold.  It continues to bleed.  It is fascinating, especially when it comes to dissection.

I couldn’t but help to think about my own heart whilst I cut out the ventricles.  It was so clean and firm.  My heart would not look like this surely, for all my life and times entailed?

I set about photographing my heart.  Wherever it was it bled.  It continued to live in my house as I moved it around from scene to scene.  Only when I cut into it and took control of it, stuffing it with domestic objects, placing in a cooking vessel and providing it with heat did it relinquish control over me.

That was until it came to be cooked and for the sake of integrity I had to eat it.  Then the psychology came into play.  Cut, fork, eat.  Oh.

The taste was surprisingly clean and fine.  Not unpleasant. Had I been in the company of others I may have eaten more but alone in my house, heart on a plate, I felt scared.

Here it is, a heart.