One day the Hodja and his friends were chatting in the coffee house. The topic was food. They were trading recipes, reminiscing how one dish was heavenly and yet another was so exquisite that it made you eat your fingers with it. All this talk of food was making everyone hungry. Finally when someone described how to make a superb stew of liver and lungs, Nasreddin Hodja asked him to write the recipe down on a piece of paper. His appetite whetted, the Hodja put the recipe in his coat pocket and headed for the butcher.
Having bought a couple of kilos of fresh liver and lungs, Nasreddin Hodja started to walk towards home. In anticipation of a delicious dinner, the recipe in the coat pocket, the Hodja was swinging the meat package from its string and whistling contentedly as he walked. Alas, misfortune was in the air. A large crow dived down, grabbed the meat and flew off. As the crow was ascending with the meat packet in his mouth, Nasreddin Hodja put his hands around his mouth and shouted:
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