the Frenchman following instructions carefully and working with quiet focus. As they wrapped up, the Frenchman reached to throw away the remains. “No! Don’t toss those!” the farmer exclaimed. “Those are the best part! My wife fries them—we call them ‘sheep fries.’” The Frenchman looked puzzled but nodded. That night,
the farmer invited him to dinner. Sure enough, a plate of golden-brown “sheep fries” sat on the table. The Frenchman hesitated, but curiosity won. To his surprise, they were tender, rich, and surprisingly good. He smiled, impressed. The farmer chuckled. “Told you. Now you’re really part of the farm.”