My kingdom for a horse (sausage), part one.

I didn't squawk about the steak, dear. I merely said I didn't see that old horse that used to be tethered outside here.
-- WC Fields

Two articles in the New York Times consider the implications of Secretariat Shish Kebab, first from a standpoint of hygienic faith.

Of Fraud and Filet, by Frank Bruni

 ... We’re spooked by the horse meat story, disturbed by the fish tale and riveted by other instances of false food advertising because they remind us of a truth we try hard to forget. Every time we eat something that we haven’t grown and reaped and cooked ourselves — which means, for most of us, every time we eat — we’re taking a leap of faith: that it was protected from contamination; that it was inspected properly; that the cook didn’t mix in something objectionable; that the waiter didn’t drop it on the floor. We’re in a position of both extraordinary vulnerability and extreme trust.

Then, how these little bits of Seabiscuits 'n' Gravy in Ikea's spicy meatballs pertain to the very notion of European unity.

Recipe for Divided Europe: Add Horse, Then Stir, by Andrew Higgins

... The horse meat scandal has brought into the open the deep divisions, cultural and otherwise, that bedevil the European Union.

Part two here