The Florentines love their tripe. It’s their go-to sandwich. Just boil that cow stomach, chop it into bits, drop it on a roll, and top with salsa verde.
It didn’t look so bad. It didn’t smell so bad. So I took a bite. It didn’t actually taste so bad either. But it sorta squeaked against my teeth, and when it came time to swallow, well, it just wouldn’t go down (THAT’S WHAT SHE SAID!). It look a lot of effort to get it down my throat, but it finally went (TWSS!).
I didn’t need to take another bite. That was enough.
But at the Mercato Centrale in Florence, where we got our tripe sandwich, you could also buy the tripe itself, fresh from the butchers. So I’m not sure why I thought it would be any different than what I could imagine, looking at this stuff.