Winner gets a free Nextbook Press book appropriate to his or her comment (if he or she emails me at [email protected] with his or her mailing address).
Back in the ’40s my mother made it for dinner and my sister and I were so revolted by its look and taste we ate only a mouthful. Mother put the leftover in the refrigerator, a unrebutable sign to us that it was sure to reappear soon. The next day a stray dog followed my sister and me home from school. We seized on the opportunity to get rid of the ptcha and put it out for the dog. Though hungry, he refused to eat it. We knew that this was a dog of impeccable taste and manners and so we adopted him. He was a great dog, whose only misdeed was to eat our father’s portion of chopped liver that had been plated on the table in anticipation on our return from Friday night services.
Ah Rex, we miss you.
Joshua gets David Mamet’s The Wicked Son, because you should always eat what your mother makes you!
Marc Tracy is a staff writer at The New Republic, and was previously a staff writer at Tablet. He tweets @marcatracy.