I was in the supermarket queue some years ago waiting for my assorted purchases to jiggle along the belt to be swiped. When the tongue (beef, whole, black and pink, wrapped in plastic) arrived under her hand, the young teen-aged check-out operator did a flinch. Then a nervous poke with forefinger and remarked "Oooh yuk, what is it?"
"A cow's tongue".
"Oooh yuk, is it for your dog?"
"Nope. For my kids".
"Oooh yuk. How old are they?"
"About your age. Two boys at college, girl at intermediate".
"Oooh gross! Do they like it?"
"They love it. They may not know what it is because I slice it up".
"Ooooooh. What's your boys' names? I might know them".
I gave her their names and, to the slight irritation of the waiting members in the queue, we finally established that she didn't know them, and therefore could not (presumably) have the pleasure of enlightening them about their mother's duplicitous culinary practices.
At last my groceries were in my bags. As I paid she announced firmly
"There's NO WAY I could ever eat that"
"Why not?" enquired next-in-line middle-aged woman.
"Well, yuk, it comes out of a cow's mouth!"
Next-in-line middle-aged woman smiled sweetly at her and replied
"Eat eggs, do you?"