Musings of a foodie

A friend of mine recently posted on Facebook that she tried Balut for the first time. Balut? What's balut you may ask, as I wondered? According to my friend Wikipedia, balut is sold as a street food in the Phillipines, that is essentially a fertilized duck egg that has a nearly developed embryo. Whaaaaaa?

We have a Korean friend who was telling us tales of a famous black pig in Jeju, located on an island on the southern tip of South Korea. The indigenous black pig is raised on human fecal matter. Lovely! It is nicknamed by the Koreans as Shit Pig. It is supposed to be the most delectable pork ever tasted - so succulent and flavourful, and yet it's something else that I think I'd pass on.

One of the strangest things I've tried was a live clam. I should note that the clam was still moving in the half shell. I was in Spain, and my uncle had taken us to a wonderful restaurant and had ordered up this appetizer. There I was, staring at this small clam, no bigger than a silver dollar, white, glistening and quivering on it's own volition. Everyone else at the table had already had theirs and yet I debated on how I would go about eating this poor little clam. I argued with myself between chewing it and putting it out of it's misery quickly, or to swallow it whole and let the stomach juices have their way with it. Which would be more humane? I imagined the little screams that would emanate from my mouth as my molars chomped down on the little creature. Imagination can sometimes be a very bad thing. I am not normally one to shirk my responsibilities, but that time, I let my stomach be the bad guy and swallowed him whole.

While I was backpacking through Europe, I came across a butcher in Paris that displayed a large selection of meats in their front window. One particular item caught my eye as it looked very much like a skinned squirrel. There was no sign on this item, as there were on the others and I racked my brain trying to think of what the word for squirrel was in French. The more I thought about it, the more I was convinced that they were indeed selling squirrel meat in Paris. I hadn't seen any squirrels around and surely such a common rodent was prevalent in Europe as well as North America. It was Paris after all, and surely they could find a way to cook up squirrel with a nice reduction sauce. It turns out, as I found out several days later, that the item was a rodent, but it was an uninteresting rabbit.

Speaking of which, I had a pet rabbit when I was younger. Thumper was his name. My brother and cousin used to tease me about eating hassenpfeffer. I had no clue what they were talking about, but I surmised that it was some sort of rabbit dish. I professed that I would never ever eat rabbit.... and yet I found myself in France several years ago, working in a kitchen in Cannes, and for lunch they often served rabbit to the staff. Quite tasty... similar to chicken... kind of like frog legs.

So what do my musings all mean? Other than the fact that I love food but I have limits as to what I'll venture into my mouth, the only logical explanation as to why some things are considered inedible by some cultures and delightful in another is a matter of upbringing. I never thought I'd eat snails and yet escargots are one of my favourite dishes, and I'm sure having a fancy french name makes them even better. PB on the other hand, used to play with snails and has said he will never eat any of his playmates. This is also the case for frog legs.

But it's not just a matter of strange delicacies that people have differing opinions on. There are basic things that we eat every day that some people will like and others won't. Whether it be a matter of texture, taste, smell or appearance everyone is guided by what they were brought up with, peer pressure and the cultural values about what is acceptable.

My mother in law, originating from Poland had very limited exposure to seafood. She refuses to eat shrimp (although I've seen her now sample a few around the holidays from a shrimp ring) because they remind her of little bugs, cockroaches to be exact. I remember having mounds of steamed shrimp brought to our restaurant table in Taiwan and learning how to rip off their little heads first and then peel the shell off from the legs before devouring them. I did not mention to her that I'm sure somewhere in the world people probably eat cockroaches as they do beetles, silk worms, spiders etc...

I don't like raw onions. If I eat onions, they have to be cooked and can't even be partially raw and even then I prefer to not know that I'm really eating them. PB loves onions - of all kinds. In fact, one of his favourite sandwiches is slices of a good crusty bread, slathered with butter and then topped with a heaping pile of raw sliced green onions and salted. Blech....

However, it occurred to me as I have been making all of Corwin's food (I am proud to say that he has never been served any jarred baby food nor anything manufactured that needs to be reconstituted) that it would be a great injustice for me to deprive him of anything that I don't personally like. I hear all the time about parents raising picky eaters. I am fortunate that Corwin has not disliked anything, with the exception of barley (which is ok since neither of his parents likes barley very much either), that I've offered to him. I'm sure that over time this may change, but it's very important to me that I give him things to try so that he can decide whether he likes something or not. Like all other aspects in life, I want him to be open minded and willing to try things. Does this mean that he'll try balut? Perhaps when he's older he may (I shouldn't have to be responsible for providing him every opportunity to eat strange things!) but, for now he'll have to settle for raw onions, cilantro, licorice and anything with dried orange peel.