Just say no | 6 October 2007

In New York, I head for Citarella on Broadway only to be confronted by a noisy demo at the entrance. (Among New York foodies, Citarella is to Whole Foods what in London Waitrose is to Tesco.) People in straw sandals and peasant dresses are handing out leaflets proclaiming ‘Say no to foie gras!’ Citarella is probably one of the few places in the world which sells foie gras in volume, so this is a strike, as it were, at the very heart of the evil empire.

Foie gras is goose liver swelled up by force-feeding just before the bird is killed; the liver, lightly sautéed or made into a terrine, is at first faintly bitter on the tongue then faintly sweet, always unctuous and smooth, and light — if properly prepared, light as foam. My impulse throughout life has therefore been to say ‘yes!’ to foie gras whenever I can afford it, but the protesters were so well mannered, and some so beautiful, that I stopped to chat.