We did. And, we’re not talking the typical Meghan and Michelle paint-the-town-red kind of evening. Rather, we’re speaking of bull balls–yes, you read that correctly–which we treated our taste buds to while recently dining at Plan B, a tapas restaurant in NOLITA.

Michelle and I fancy ourselves adventurous types; I’ve gone skydiving and started mixing patterns, and Michelle has cliff jumped and still wears bows in her hair. So, we’re really game for anything. Add Prossecco to the mix and, well, balls-to-the wall is seemingly always the only and best way to go. After immaturely yet confidently ordering/receiving the dish – simply called Bull Testicles– we played a few rounds of “no, you first” before digging in. To clarify, I dug in, even going back for thirds, but Michelle baby bit her way through one nibble. The texture: tough. The taste: hematic. The sauce: unnecessary.  It didn’t mask the unfavorable flavor at all. The result: a trip to tummy-ache town the next day.

So even though the balls left us feeling blue, just trying them goes to show that we have them, too!