“It tasted like greasy fried liver……something “mealy” and definitely fried in old oil” — Donna Potter Phillips/Spokane re: Rocky Mountain Oysters.

When I read your Huckleberries about the famous (infamous??) Rocky Mountain Oysters at the Snake Pit, I chuckled mightily and knew I had to share my story with you…………… and you may share it out if you want.

Years ago, I took a non-credit geology class through the community college and we took a field trip over into North Idaho. And we stopped for lunch at the Snake Pit.

Here we were, a nice group of about ten, sitting around a table, debating what to order. I looked across the room and saw two couples at a booth……..

I assumed they were Mom-Dad, grown-up Son-Daughter-in-Law for they all had on western wear, boots and cowboy hats. The younger man ordered Rocky Mountain Oysters…… the other three laughed at him and said “we’ll see.” The order came…… it looked like 3-inch round slices of something coated in crumbs and fried, arranged nicely on a plate with a touch of parsley.

Well! I knew my moment had come! I picked up my fork and walked over and scooted into the booth next to the younger man and asked right out, with my fork in the air, “Might I have a taste of those? I’ve always wanted to!”

There was a pregnant pause….. and you’d never guess who was the first to speak up…… the older woman, whom I took to be his mother…..and she said, with a big smile, “SURE!” And the younger man pushed the plate towards me, also with a smile. Not a one of them seemed a bit upset or annoyed, bless them.

So I cut one with my fork and lifted the semi-circle to my mouth. It tasted like greasy fried liver……something “mealy” and definitely fried in old oil. NOTHING to brag about and NO REASON for anybody to eat the whole plateful. The younger man was perhaps happy to get rid of a bite, thereby saving him from his bravado.

I most politely thanked them all, took my fork and went back to my group….whose mouths were all hanging open at the hutzpah I’d shown to do a thing like that. But I did and I’d do it again!!

Thanks, Dave, for bringing back a memory.

Donna Potter Phillips/Spokane