![]() I did eat one once, inadvertently, in China. And I'm not one of the many foreign adventurers who have made pilgrimages to Guolizhuang, the famous penis restaurant in Beijing, where you can grapple with a smorgasbord of cocks and balls, including those of oxen, dogs, yaks, and occasionally, it is rumored, tigers. When I trained as a chef at the Sichuan Institute of Higher Cuisine, penises were not on the curriculum. I can't say I had previously harbored any ambition to cook a penis. But I sharpened my cleaver, tied tightly my apron, and steadied my nerve. Prone and passive as they were at that moment, they were still a daunting sight. Never in my life would I have imagined that I would be in command of not one but four male members, and of such extravagant proportions. Over the course of my career, I have prepared and eaten many unusual ingredients, from sea cucumbers to frog ovaries, but until recently I had maintained a maidenly innocence when it came to cooking penises of any species. ![]() Leaking pink juices, they had a ferocious, feral smell that assaulted our nostrils-the mighty stags' last stand. Both came with the whole apparatus - not just the bones, but pairs of testicles in cozy sporrans of fur and flowerlike protuberances through which, we worked out, the erect penises must protrude. ![]() The other two looked as if they had only moments ago been hacked off. Two of them were neat and tidy, as gorgeously tanned as homemade bacon, still attached to their pubic bones and exuding an appetizing aroma of wood smoke. The four pizzles lay sprawled out on the kitchen counter.
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