Finally, Sr. Toral brought out our roasted guinea pig and set it on the table. As large as a rat, it's cousin, our cuy looked liked the victim of a forest fire. It had been sliced across the stomach so that each of us could get half. Short, stubby hairs stuck out through its cooked skin. Tiny pointed teeth gave the dead guinea pig's face a sly grin. I took the rear half.
The skin had ducklike crispness, crunchy but tasteless. Inside, there were so many small bones and so much fat and gristle that finding meat to chew on proved difficult. Despite its size, cuy is definitely a finger food; forks and knives proved irrelevant. The meat, once I found some, tasted spongy, like overcooked rabbit. Juice oozed from all over; guinea pig is a five-napkin food.
So that pretty much settles it. I mean, just reading that passage made me a little queasy.
Oh, and here's your advance warning: I'll be on the radio tomorrow evening, 8-10. So stay away from 88.7 FM if you're local or wxdu.org or you might accidentally hear me.