Bonne anniversaire M. J. L.

by jemma margaret

Somewhere, in a warmer part of the world, it is still my father’s birthday.

So this isn’t exactly late.

If I were better organized and had an “in” with postal immigration, my father’s birthday meal might have begun with a very special gesture from his daughter abroad.

In case you’re wondering, that’s a goose. And I’m talking about its well fed liver, which is now an illegal commodity in California. You can get a can of it in any corner store in Paris–though I wouldn’t speak to the quality.

I haven’t read the foie gras law, and I wonder about the technicalities. The basic statement outlaws the “force feed[ing of] a bird for the purpose of enlarging the bird’s liver beyond normal size.” How fat must a goose be to disqualify? Could you legally eat the breast of an unusually plump specimen? What constitutes force? I imagine that some birds are just really really hungry.

Some part of me, the part that likes to watch Boardwalk Empire, wants the foie gras law to spark some sort of prohibition-esque mafia action.

“I can get ya some fat liver, but it’s gonna cost ya.”

Time is running out on my midnight PST deadline. In conclusion, while I will set to work on my master plan to have force fed birds voluntarily fly to California, for now I can only offer some Foi Gras, a new and completely noncriminal expression which will be henceforth defined as ample good wishes for the birthday year.