When I was a kid, my mother would sometimes bake and serve beef tongue. I was a very fussy eater back then, but for some reason I liked the stuff. (Yeah, taste's like chicken.) So, the years go by, I grow up, I get married. Sometime in that first month or so, I bought a calf tongue at the meat market, brought it home, and put it in the fridge. I explained to my new bride that it was a memory from my childhood and how certain I was that she'd enjoy it. I could tell by her grimace that she was not enthused. So, in the fridge it sat. Each morning I'd mention it as a possible choice for the day's dinner. If my wife ever gave a response, it was too low to hear. One day, I came home from work and it was gone. I never mentioned it again. Dinner ruined, marriage saved

Beef tongue happens to be my favorite food, and has been since I was a very small child. It's not all that difficult to clean, and the way I cook it (with lots of garlic) it's tender, and has a very delicate flavor. You're going to think I have the weirdest family in the world when I tell you this, but when I was a kid my uncle used to buy me a beef tongue on my half-birthday every year, since he and I were the only ones who loved it. My grandmother would cook it for us and we'd have a wonderful feast (sliced, on good rye bread, with Gulden's mustard).