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"Perhaps," he suggested, "you would like a piece of roasted bosk meat?" I replaced the golden eating prong in its rack beside my place, shoved back the glittering dish in which lay several theoretically edible objects, carefully arranged by a slave to resemble a bouquet of wild flowers sprouting from a rock outcropping. - (Nomads of Gor, Chapter 9, Sentence #46)

I tried the liver of the wingfish. Then another swig of paga. Saphrar winced. "Perhaps," he suggested, "you would like a piece of roasted bosk meat?" I replaced the golden eating prong in its rack beside my place, shoved back the glittering dish in which lay several theoretically edible objects, carefully arranged by a slave to resemble a bouquet of wild flowers sprouting from a rock outcropping. "Yes," I said, "I think so". Saphrar conveyed my wishes to the scandalized Feast Steward, and he, with a glare in my direction, sent two young slaves scampering off to scour the kitchens of Turia for a slice of bosk meat. I looked to one side and saw Kamchak scraping another plate clean, holding it to his mouth, sliding and shoving the carefully structured design of viands into his mouth. - (Nomads of Gor, Chapter 9)