One Reply to “Chicken Hearts & Wild Boar”

  1. Haven’t had chicken hearts, but I have had wild boar. My parents came to see us when we lived in Bulgaria and we took a road trip across the country. On impulse we stopped at a tiny, drab looking restaurant on a narrow mountain road. The restaurant was ostensibly there to serve a clientele of hunters and the building’s second floor had a few rooms for overnighters. The husband-and-wife owners bustled about setting up a table in the shade and gave us a choice of salad, meatballs or grilled pork chops, and bread. We chose the pork chops not expecting much. They were so full of flavor, so tender, that we just had to ask the source. Despite the remote location and the presence of only a few other customers at a somewhat distant table, our host looked around, lowered his voice, and jerked his thumb toward the mountain forest looming behind his restaurant. “Wild boar, but don’t tell, there’s a big fine.” After I translated for him, my non-Bulgarian speaking father laughed, “Who could I tell?”


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