This one time in France…
When I studied abroad in Tours, France as a sophomore I stayed with Christine. As I’ve previously said, she was both fascinating and an excellent cook.
She once prepared a delicious rabbit stew and being an American I was pretty excited to eat Thumper for the first time. Me and my two study abroad siblings (Patrice from Georgia, USA, and Ahmed from the UAE) sat down for dinner. We grabbed our special weekly cloth napkins from the basket. We each spooned out a serving of rabbit and politely dug in while awkwardly speaking about our days in sad, broken French.
A bit of time went by where I picked the tiny pieces of meat off of the bone structure of this creature. Then I turned that bone structure around and the rabbit was looking at me with its giant dead eyes and white bony skull.
I probably went white but I don’t know. I did stop eating. How could I say in broken French, “you gave me the dead skull of this tiny creature and I have been picking its temple off piece by piece and shoving it hungrily into my young innocent mouth. What do I do!?”
I just sat there until the end of dinner at which point Christine realized what had happened and apologized. I honestly thought that she meant for me to get the skull and that it was a delicacy that an American could not possibly understand.