There's something strikingly primal about dinner arriving via a big old, honkin' bone. We're not talking tiny little chicken-wing bones here. Nope, we're talking about Flintstones-style cuisine--when slow-roasted, super tender lamb or wild boar still attached to the bone, which protrudes above a massive bowl like some sort of ship's mast. It's not graceful, and no one will ever dare call it haute cuisine because they'll be too busy making sure every scrap of meat is devoured.
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