In the Blood

True to form, Edith and I cored cow bones out tonight to spread the marrow on crostini. It was the perfect accompaniment to the steak tartare at Quality Meats, with its upscale rodeo motif. Edison bulbs turning meat hooks into lighting fixtures, I was ready to eat whatever bloody thing they brought me.

We'd had a few champagnes at the Rogan for Target party at Barney's tonight, where we were flanked by paparazzi who didn't care about us but flashed their bulbs at folks like Alan Cumming and models we didn't recognize. We also spotted Barney's creative director, Simon Doonan, who we did recognize as a talking head from various VH1 pop culture shows. How posh. The snacks were great but only whet our appetite for a real meal, and being on the lower upper east side, we didn't know where else to go.

Sometimes it's good to get back to basics. The first time I ate blood, besides my own from a bloody finger injury involving a chain and my bike, was on an Aer Lingus flight to Dublin when I had a traditional Irish breakfast featuring blood sausage or "black pudding," which I thought kind of tasted like stuffing. The last couple of years, I've been daring enough to try bloody steak tartare at Employees Only and Country, but tonight was my first out-of-bone experience. It was a memorable one.

Raw beef? No problem. Raw egg? Bring it on. The bones kind of freaked me out, though, reminding me of the Shake 'n Bake chicken that my mother would make in the toaster oven, marrow bursting out of the meat-covered bone and globulating on the outside of the breadcrumb crust. But since I like food that scares me, tonight was a perfect meal....