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It tasted like chicken

Latimer

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In Kyoto a few evenings ago, my partner and I sat down for a kaiseki--multi-course--meal at a beautiful, very elegant restaurant and, looking over the menu, I saw that one of the items on the menu was deep-fried blowfish. I mentioned to my partner that I understood blowfish to be highly toxic and dangerous to eat--I had heard that people died from eating it--and, consulting my cellphone, came up with the following from Wikipedia:

"Fugu can be lethally poisonous to humans due to its tetrodotoxin, meaning it must be carefully prepared to remove toxic parts and to avoid contaminating the meat.[2]

"The restaurant preparation of fugu is strictly controlled by law in Japan[3] and several other countries, and only chefs who have qualified after three or more years of rigorous training are allowed to prepare the fish.[2][4] Domestic preparation occasionally leads to accidental death.[4]

"Fugu is served as sashimi and nabemono.[4] The liver was served as a traditional dish named fugu-kimo, being widely thought to be a tasty part, but it is also the most poisonous, and serving this organ in restaurants was banned in Japan in 1984.[4] Fugu has become one of the most celebrated dishes in Japanese cuisine."


"It takes three years of 'rigorous training' to qualify to prepare it? Do you really want to try it?" I asked.

"So, we'll ask the server what she thinks," He responded.

"Right. Like she's really going to tell you it's a risky proposition."

So, of course, my partner asked if it was safe. And, of course, the comely, kimono-clad server assured him that it was perfectly safe and that all of their chefs were certified, having trained in the art of blowfish preparation for three years.

In due course, the blowfish arrived. It looked innocent enough. Two or three bites large. I figured I'd hedge my bets with one bite and jokingly added as it brought a piece to my mouth, "It will probably taste like chicken".

Sure enough, it tasted like chicken. Very good chicken. Good enough that I had a second bite.

Here's my question: What experiences have you had eating foods you were reluctant to try, or foods the general population finds repellent?
 
I was reluctant to try raw oysters. They just seemed a pointless exercise to me if you were supposed to just slide them down without chewing them anyway, like taking a medicine that was in capsule form. It seemed, much like your blowfish, like a sort of bragging rights dish.

Eventually I tried one with lemon juice, another with Tabasco, and another with cocktail sauce. Afterward, I still felt it was pointless.

I very much like them cooked in gumbos, fried in a crisp dredge, and in jambalaya.

On your dinner, what's the point? It sounds like rock climbing without a rope. Of course one can do it and live, but is it necessary to do it just to prove you've faced death needlessly? I mean, how good can a piece of fish be? By your own account, it doesn't sound like anything orgasmic, and certainly not worth dying over. Three years of training or no, a mistake can still be made and you can still die, but for what? Adrenaline? Is life so boring that extreme danger over gnosh is needed to be entertained?

That sounds harsh, but it just sounds so irrational to me. By no means do I advocate playing it safe in life and not exploring, but why risk death over a snack? My feeling wouldn't be, as I lay on my deathbed, that I had lived well, but that I had given up future decades of adventure, love, and living, for a stupid piece of fish. I would have pissed it all away.
 
That sounds harsh, but it just sounds so irrational to me. By no means do I advocate playing it safe in life and not exploring, but why risk death over a snack? My feeling wouldn't be, as I lay on my deathbed, that I had lived well, but that I had given up future decades of adventure, love, and living, for a stupid piece of fish. I would have pissed it all away.
Stupid white Anglo people...

 
I understand that the blowfish can sometimes make your lips and tongue numb, although the reaction is harmless.
 
If cotton wool tastes as great as the chicken at the buffet up the road on the Tennessee line, I'ma bouta pull down some sheet rock and get to cookin' sumpthin' totally different tomorrow.
 
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