Posted in food, Funny, life, Miscellaneous, Musings

Eating a National Hero

Oh, Skippy. I’m so sorry, mate!

"Quick! Eat him before he drowns you!"
“Quick! Eat him before he drowns you!”

When I was a little tyke, I often got stuck with my parents while they were out on their afternoon grocery shopping. If someone complements me on my photographic memory of our local supermarket, I can say that I owe it all to my years worth of aisle plundering. I remember back when a young Dandy spotted a rather dark reddish oddity near the butcher, neatly cut and tough looking pieces of lean meat.

Kangaroo meat, it was.

I remember shooting my parents the “Yo, is this fo’ shizzle?” look to which they absently responded with a casual “Well, yeah …” as if it were common practice. But to me, this was an act of barbarism that I hadn’t even heard about. And as time went on, I found out more and more about the consumption of roo meat Down Under. Something told me that I would eventually try it.

Nothing told me that today would be that day.

Kangaroo sausages: Tough and spicy! They weren’t half bad and they didn’t taste that much different to all the other red meats out there. In fact, if you handed someone a kangaroo steak and didn’t tell them it was the meat of said animal, then they’d probably just shrug it off as chomp down on it like it was lamb or beef.

Although, to be completely honest with you, it feels kind of wrong to be eating the meat of an animal that is considered a national icon … Oh well. Just be glad that Koala meat isn’t a thing. You’d probably die after consumption due to the toxic amount of eucalyptus that’s probably in it or something …



"And so, let my heart be hardened." This blog was all but abandoned, gathering digital cobwebs and whatnot, before I checked back in after the pitter-pattering of cyberrain. Or were they emails? Let this place be a beacon for my mind during my few sleepless nights.

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