it's in the brioche

after my carnage post i went to my friends house. the very first thing she asked me after having supped on tea and digestives was: did i want some "escargot in brioche". i took an extra long sip muling over the question. i blinked. i examined my nails and the china pattern on the tea cup. meanwhile she had pulled from the freezer a box of trader joe's escargot in brioche. there it was again. escargot. snails. snails in brioche. i wondered what kind of snails, but i kept sipping my tea. she said her friend had brought them from the trader joes up in grass valley bcs they rarely have them here. packed in ice all the way from grass valley.

is this a joke i wondered. she shook the box to assert its contents. she went on and on about how good they were. i said, yes. sure. let's go for it. and i thought, did you read my post- do you think this is cosmically funny? how am i suppose to respond to this sort of universal challenge? i had to aquiese. i had to embrace the fact that they would be flavored with butter and garlic. i ate 3. each one- trying not to curdle with the fact that i was eating snail. i persevered. they sat like quarter inch steel in my stomach but for all i know it could've been the heavily garliced brioche. that's enough of a digestive tackle. the snails were curled up in the little cavity of the brioche. it had a little lid so you could peek at the contents. it wasn't unlike a stuffed mushroom. i did not examine them for fear i would find the cute little antenna. they weren't bad. i would even say tasty. but somehow i saw myself eating my words. over and over. with salt and pepper. it wasn't without a smile.