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.