I found this post while searching for a headcheese recipe. I figured I'd revive it. A group this diverse has got to have some good stories about nasty food.
I'm a pretty adventurous eater, and I generally like the nasty bits. Chittlins, blood sausage, haggis, headcheese, you name it. There are two things I've eaten, however, that I categorically never want to eat again.
The first is binagoongan, a Filipino dish of pork with fermented shrimp paste. I use shrimp paste in a couple of recipes where, in small amounts, it provides a nice salty funk to the dish. In binagoongan, though, it's the dominant, overwhelming flavor. I ordered it at a Filipino restaurant in Northern Virginia because, as a regular, I had eaten and enjoyed just about everything else on the menu. This almost beat me. My wife could tell I was forcing myself to eat it, but I finished it as a matter of honor and principle. And then swore that it would never pass my lips again. (Speaking of Filipino food, I've never had the opportunity to try balut, so I can't say for certain I'd have the digestive fortitude to give it a go.)
The second thing I will never eat again is the liver of the "sazae" horned turban snail, a Japanese delicacy. I had this at a great little sushi bar near my apartment when I lived in Seattle. I was a regular there and would frequently just ask the chef to give me whatever he felt like making. One day I went in and there was a large party of Japanese folks eating a really beautifully plated dish. I asked the chef about it and he said it was a giant snail. I told him I'd like to try it. He reached into a live tank under his counter and pulled out a baseball-sized snail. He used a meat hook to pry open the valve and pull out the entire thing, which made a "schhhhlckk" sound as the snail stretched out and then coiled back up as he yanked it. He worked his magic, and presented me with a plate containing two very different looking items, one firm and cream-white and the other squishy and greenish-black. I asked him what I was looking at and he said, "that is meat, that is--how you say--guts!" The meat was great. It reminded me of abalone in texture and taste. The--how you say--guts were a totally different story. It was mushy and tasted like fetid swamp rot. It took a lot of sake for me to choke that down. Again, on principle and not wanting to offend the chef, I finished it. Never. Effing. Again.
I'm a pretty adventurous eater, and I generally like the nasty bits. Chittlins, blood sausage, haggis, headcheese, you name it. There are two things I've eaten, however, that I categorically never want to eat again.
The first is binagoongan, a Filipino dish of pork with fermented shrimp paste. I use shrimp paste in a couple of recipes where, in small amounts, it provides a nice salty funk to the dish. In binagoongan, though, it's the dominant, overwhelming flavor. I ordered it at a Filipino restaurant in Northern Virginia because, as a regular, I had eaten and enjoyed just about everything else on the menu. This almost beat me. My wife could tell I was forcing myself to eat it, but I finished it as a matter of honor and principle. And then swore that it would never pass my lips again. (Speaking of Filipino food, I've never had the opportunity to try balut, so I can't say for certain I'd have the digestive fortitude to give it a go.)
The second thing I will never eat again is the liver of the "sazae" horned turban snail, a Japanese delicacy. I had this at a great little sushi bar near my apartment when I lived in Seattle. I was a regular there and would frequently just ask the chef to give me whatever he felt like making. One day I went in and there was a large party of Japanese folks eating a really beautifully plated dish. I asked the chef about it and he said it was a giant snail. I told him I'd like to try it. He reached into a live tank under his counter and pulled out a baseball-sized snail. He used a meat hook to pry open the valve and pull out the entire thing, which made a "schhhhlckk" sound as the snail stretched out and then coiled back up as he yanked it. He worked his magic, and presented me with a plate containing two very different looking items, one firm and cream-white and the other squishy and greenish-black. I asked him what I was looking at and he said, "that is meat, that is--how you say--guts!" The meat was great. It reminded me of abalone in texture and taste. The--how you say--guts were a totally different story. It was mushy and tasted like fetid swamp rot. It took a lot of sake for me to choke that down. Again, on principle and not wanting to offend the chef, I finished it. Never. Effing. Again.
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