It should be mentioned that even in France, people don't want to call culinary testicles by their real name. While "mountain oysters" is the name used in the United States, in France they are merely called rognons blancs -- white kidneys.
Over on Thorn Tree Get Stuffed a few minutes ago, in a thread on Buffalo Chicken Wings, I posted about pickled chicken feet, which are a popular (?) snack here in Michoacán. We were once served some at a wedding. I gave up all of my share to our landlady sitting across from us. Then we got another bowl for her from an adjacent but unoccupied table.
I ate chicken feet regularly at my grandparents' house during an adolescent year that I spent in France (age 11-12) but my most striking memory was during a visit to my Singaporean friends who lived in Vancouver. We had lunch at a dim sum place and of course ate all sorts of different items and seemed to be finishing up at last with a banana custard which was obviously a sort of dessert. But all of a sudden my friend Gerard saw chicken feet on a passing cart and screamed "Wah! We have to have some!" So we had a helping of that, and I was able to remember how you sort of roll them around in your mouth to decide what you want to swallow and what must be spit out -- the bonier parts and the toenails.
I think I bought chicken feet once or twice in Paris since then, but I have at last decided that there is no reason for them to be part of my diet, the same as duck tongues (which have bones in them! dammit, if they were just tongues, they would be good.).
htmb, I had no idea that the young bulls were so, ahem, mature when they were castrated. Wow, a job and a half.
Life is too short to eat chicken feet, that much I am sure of.
And beer made out of testicles: really?
I had no idea that duck tongues had bones in them. When I was searching out local cheap resources for duckling, I found a processor in the valley that offered tongues in ten pound boxes. Now I know.
The one thing I regret not trying? When I was in Paris last, cèpes were in season. The charming stall owner, seeing I was hemming and hawing over the price of a single mushroom said, "Mais madame, c'est la vrai France!" (or something to that effect). I found it extra charming because he obviously was French, but his heritage wasn't.