The Duck and the Maggots
March 4th 2008 21:00
Having had ducks for pets as a teenager, I don’t eat duck. I call it cannibalism and to me, it is as revolting as eating cat or dog. Of course I’m biased, having seen Brown-o and White-o grow up from tiny quackerlings you could fit in the size of your palm to the big ducks they were as adults.
But being Chinese, duck forms an integral part of my parents’ diet. You’ve probably seen them, those greasy brown ducks they have hanging from hooks in Chinese shops. My old man was a big fan of those ducks and insisted that whoever was buying them to make sure they had plenty of sauce on them.
One day my mother bought a duck from a Chinese shop. It was full of sauce which made my old man happy. My mother went and heated the duck up in the oven and when it was ready, we sat down to have a typical Chinese meal of duck, steamed vegetables and rice, all of which I hate. I was wondering how I could get out of eating the duck when my mother said, “There’s something moving on the duck.” My sister, old man and I all bent forwards to look. At first none of us could see anything. Then one of us saw it. Tiny white things were moving around on the duck and the surrounding sauce. My mum started to freak out. She cried out, “Maggots!” and grabbed the plate and threw the duck out. She also told us to throw out any duck we had placed in our bowls of rice. That was one time I was really thankful that I refuse to eat duck.
But being Chinese, duck forms an integral part of my parents’ diet. You’ve probably seen them, those greasy brown ducks they have hanging from hooks in Chinese shops. My old man was a big fan of those ducks and insisted that whoever was buying them to make sure they had plenty of sauce on them.
One day my mother bought a duck from a Chinese shop. It was full of sauce which made my old man happy. My mother went and heated the duck up in the oven and when it was ready, we sat down to have a typical Chinese meal of duck, steamed vegetables and rice, all of which I hate. I was wondering how I could get out of eating the duck when my mother said, “There’s something moving on the duck.” My sister, old man and I all bent forwards to look. At first none of us could see anything. Then one of us saw it. Tiny white things were moving around on the duck and the surrounding sauce. My mum started to freak out. She cried out, “Maggots!” and grabbed the plate and threw the duck out. She also told us to throw out any duck we had placed in our bowls of rice. That was one time I was really thankful that I refuse to eat duck.
Photo supplied by Maachen. Used in accordance with the terms of Wikimedia Commons’ GNU Free Documentation License, Version 1.2 or any later version published by the Free Software Foundation; with no Invariant Sections, no Front-Cover Texts, and no Back-Cover Texts.
| 51 |
| Vote |
subscribe to this blog
