Tonight was an educational experience, to say the least. Our friends Lance and Gretchen Villers invited us to go to the FFA (Future Farmers of America) Rocky Mountain Oyster Fry at Custer County High School. Leslie and I saw this as a great opportunity to hang with Lance and Gretchen, and also further acquaint ourselves with our Westcliffe culture. Westcliffe, a town of 900, and a county of a few thousand is a unique mix of ranchers, tradesmen, school teachers, mountain folk, retirees and several other types. Now that we are beginning to work at our local church in town, along with working at Horn Creek, we have been making an effort to engage more in the community. This was another step.
Now, before a couple of years ago, I had no idea what a Rocky Mountain Oyster was. I would have guessed it was some sort of clam-like critter that came out of the local mountain streams, that people would fry up and eat. Though such food would not interest me at all, I didn’t think much of it when I heard people talk about these oysters. I never really picked up on the half smile people had when they talked about eating them. Come to find out, I was way off base. As many of you may know, a Rocky Mountain Oyster is actually a cow testicle, that people slice up and deep fry – somewhat of a delicacy around these parts. So every year, here in the small little mountain town of Westcliffe, there is a Rocky Mountain Oyster Fry to raise money for FFA. I’ll be honest, I was looking forward to going – but also a bit terrified. I am used to sticking to the OTHER parts of a cow if you know what I mean.
And let’s be honest: I am not much of an FFA guy. I know nothing about Future Farmers of America, having spent most of my living years in suburbia. I figured there would be lots of cowboy and cowgirl types, so I pulled out the only Wrangler shirt I could find. I did purchase a pair of cowboy boots a couple of years ago, but I figured I might as well write POSER in permanent marker on my forehead if I was going to wear those in public! So, with the wife in tow, and my shirt on, we headed into the high school cafeteria. There we met our friends Lance and Gretchen and jumped into line. I quickly got back to my fear of the impending encounter. I could clearly smell something being deep fried. I certainly could not tell it was testicles, but let’s face it, my imagination was running wild. As we pulled up to the counter, where several FFA students were serving up food, it was suddenly my turn. What was I going to do?? Were there going to be options, or would I have to just smile and take em?
Well, as I gazed down at the food, a young man picked up something with some tongs and held it towards me. Whatever it was, it was huge, a little squishy, and definitely very fried! I thought to myself, “This is the largest testicle I have ever seen in my whole life!!” It seemed to taunt me, and I thought of my own (if you know what I mean) and felt instant nausea. I quickly got chills down my body and said to the young man, “Not a chance!” He had a puzzled look on his face and said, “you don’t want any deep fried biscuits?” What? As I got over my gag reflex, I soon realized what I was staring at was not a huge bulging cow testicle at all, but rather a simple deep fried biscuit. The relief was immediate, and so was the continued awkwardness. So, I decided to take one of those after all, still not totally convinced it wasn’t the dreaded testicle. Later I got some chicken (thank the Lord), and passed on the local delicacy. I have to say, the testicles actually looked like chicken strips to me, but I passed on them anyway.
So, the night went on, and I actually did take a bite of a Rocky Mountain Oyster at some point just to say I did. We stayed and watched the FFA auction, won a raffle prize, and almost walked out with a bottle of Elk Urine that someone else won as a raffle prize. (Yes it is true, you actually buy the stuff and spray it on trees and bushes to attract Elk while hunting.) It was a great night and another in a line of unique experiences in Westcliffe. We really love this town, and continue to be thankful God has placed us here: in an amazing little town in the middle of nowhere.
Our recent visit back to St. Louis for a wedding reminded me of just why this little slice of the mid-west will always have a place in my heart.
... the parks
...walking to parks (Charlotte pulling her son and Sydney)
...The Magic House
...watching for the train
...gazeebos
...scooter rides
