You want me to eat ... what?
Haggis, anyone? Or how about Fried Pork Casings and Fresh Chilies?
Recently, my neighbour Dave invited us over to celebrate Robbie Burns Day with some haggis.
This is a bit odd considering neither of us is Scottish. In fact, I think if I did one of those genetic tests, it would come back: “Not Scottish in any way.”
Nevertheless, I am always up for an invite to Dave’s and always, always ready to eat just about anything. At least once.
If you have never tried haggis, then you may not really realize that Dave’s invitation is a two-edged sword. Sure, there will be a free cocktail before dinner, but then you actually have to, you know, eat the dinner.
Even the Scots — neither known for the delicacy of their cuisine or being particularly worried about the sensibilities of, well, anyone — decided to disguise the contents of this particular dish and give it a relatively benign-sound name. Though you have to admit, “haggis” doesn’t have quite the “élan” of “crème brûlée” for example. (If you think using two French words in one sentence is a bit snobby, remember we are talking about eating haggis, for God’s sake, and if there is such a thing as a Scottish snob, I have yet to meet one.)
But even they gave the dish a nice name. I mean, who in their right mind would say, “Hey, would you like to come over for some boiled organ meat and oatmeal stuffed into a sheep’s stomach?”
No one, that’s who. Except Dave, who pretty much said those words to me on the phone. He might have added, “… and a martini” to sweeten the offer.
The smarter way around it is to give the otherwise horrifying food an interesting and distracting name. The French are very good at this. You can imagine the scene:
1st Chef: Hey Jean-Paul, I’ve got a pile of cow glands here, what should we do with them? The dog won’t touch them.”
2nd Chef: Listen Pierre, we’ve already got these stiffs eating liver, we can sell them anything. Take those thymus glands and do what we always do — fry them in some butter.
1st Chef: What should we call it, “Glands de Thymus en Beurre Blanc”?
2nd Chef: Are you insane? Hell, even I wouldn’t eat that. We’ll call them, um, Sweetbreads! That’ll sell.
The Italians also eat many unusual things like fried calf’s brains and one of my favourites, what the Florentines call “lampredotto.” In our family we just called it “trippa.” This is a delicious dish simmered in tomato, onion and celery. The problem is what is simmering — slices of the cow’s fourth stomach, the abomasum. This is clearly not a good name for a menu item. It’s not even a good name for a horror movie. Well, maybe it’s not that bad. “You are trapped in a giant cow’s stomach and the only way out may be worse than death — The Abomasum. Starring Will Ferrell as the stomach.”
The only cuisine that appears not to worry about disguising their lessthan-regular food items seem to be the Chinese. I love Chinese food — from traditional Cantonese to the more exotic varieties now available in the city. At these little eateries, the food is amazing; the menu item names, not so much. You get tastysounding dishes such as (and I am not making this up) Chicken and Large Intestine Hot Pot and Sliced Pork with Wood Ear Fungus. The only nod to Western sensibilities is the dish named Black Pudding and Offal Stew. Here’s a hint: It’s not the Jell-O Pudding your mom made and the “offal stew” is for most people, well, awful.
Nonetheless, our family is pretty much game for anything and we’ve eaten things we couldn’t identify or pronounce. The only dish that ever stopped us was Fried Pork Casings and Fresh Chilies. Let’s put it this way, even a half-pound of red-hot chili peppers could not quite disguise the fact that you were eating a pig’s bum.
That dish made Dave’s haggis seem like a tasty treat — with or without the scotch.