Go Ahead, Have a Laugh at My Expense

I went to a butcher shop in Pretoria for a leg of lamb. I try - I really do try - to learn Afrikaans, but I must have asked for something different because I ended up with half a sheep. Yup, a whole half (can you say that?) of a sheep. They graciously cut it up and handed me about twelve packages of meat, and I was so embarrassed that I just took it, figuring I could use all of that meat eventually, right?

Today I opened the package of what looks like leftover chunks (you know, after the leg and ribs are cut, you're left with... miscellaneous chunks). I figured I could make a curry out of it. I began cutting the chunks into smaller pieces when I came across one that was rather... squishy.... and attached to a big blob of fat. Dan looked over from the computer and said, "I think that's an organ."

So I stared at this thing trying to come up with a strategy for removing said mystery organ from the fat when I discovered (drumroll, please)... a membrane. I realised that if I removed the membrane from the organ, I could free it from the fat, but the sound.... well, let me simulate it for you: squeeeeechhh shhhhh loshhhh! Dan started laughing hysterically, which made me feel rather defensive:

"I tried to speak Afrikaans, okay? And I accepted my lot of ending up with half a sheep, and I even accept the fact that my curry will contain mystery organs, but it's NOT my fault that I don't know how to peel a membrane off, okay? When we signed up to move to Africa, they made us take Bible college classes, psychological testing, marriage counseling, took our children's ages into account, our education, our backgrounds, made us read history books, take cross-cultural training, but nowhere - NOWHERE - do they teach you how to peel a membrane off a sheep organ!!"

I rest my case.