Once a year I buy an ounce of black truffle. I hoard it; I use it sparingly. Sliced thinly enough, I can get four meals out of it. Last week, I was down to the last nub, so made some scrambled egg, soft and perfect, a trace of grated parm, and a few chives. Then over the top I carefully put the four remaining slices and a few chopped bits and pieces. As I am sitting down, the doorbell rings, and I get up to answer it. It’s just a few seconds, but enough for my cat to delicately pry off the four slices (he doesn’t like eggs however perfectly cooked they are) and swallow them.
OK, I know there are some moggie haters on this board, and they would recommend some pretty nasty retribution, but all I could do was laugh, as I watched the cat with that last slice, and the look of absolute ecstasy on his face.
From the home where the cats eat tuna instead of canned cat food, free-feed top quality crunchies, and enjoy a small dish of half-and-half each morning, you will get no ideas for reprimands here.
That’s too funny Mark. The truffle aroma doesn’t seem like one that a cat would love, but our cat tortilla chips.
One time a few years back we had two couples over and were popping a bottle of buubly at the bar. One of our friends casually asked, “Does your cat like pate?”. We looked across the room and he had jumped up on the table and already scarfed about a 1/4 of the yet-touched bloc of foie and truffle terrine.