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I Cooked My Wife’s Placenta. Here’s How It Tasted.

I stared at the crimson-colored organ sealed in industrial-strength Tupperware and labeled with the international symbol for biohazard. My wife's placenta. It was the size of a whoopee cushion, sprawling with thick blood vessels, dripping in amniotic fluid, and trailing a slimy umbilical cord. I was clueless and more than a little repulsed by…
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