D
eep fry me a local delicacy in the middle of Cambodia, river rat or tarantula for example and I will happily see what my taste buds think of it.
THERE HAS ALWAYS BEEN ONE EXCEPTION TO THIS RULE THOUGH, AND IT COMES IN THE SHAPE OF A DUCK EGG. Many years ago when I was still in highschool, harbouring a fondness for food and cooking that seemed to keep growing day after day, I returned home and saw a program that just had to be watched. Its title was something along the lines of “Worlds 100 Weirdest Foods” and was straight out of the good old UsofA with the typical overenthusiastic commentary included at no extra charge. Now I turned my nose up at some offerings, “Hundred Year Old Eggs” for example which I have since tried and do not taste too bad once you get over the appearance and odour, yelled at the TV at other choices such as Caviar or Sweetbreads (Thymus glands), both of which I am quite partial too.
Sitting at a makeshift table in a market in Saigon, with fellow chef Federico for company, we were happily eating our way through the amazing seafood on offer, all of which passed the intense heat of the charcoal BBQ, when something caught our eyes. It was the shape of an egg, a large egg, a duck egg perhaps? We both looked at each other, Federico grinned, I grimaced.
It was the second spoon
that my brain decided to think about what it was going on in my mouth. The lovely intense poultry flavour was not enough to override the image that was present in my mind of the unfolding foetus on that TV show.
Uncontrollable gagging in public is never a good thing, doing it at a very large street restaurant on a shared table surrounded by local Saigonese is definitely not a good thing. Not because they are offended or care about what this foreigner is up to, but because it provides a great bit of entertainment to see a big shaven headed westerner gagging on something a 4yr old local would knock back in a second before coming back for more! After a few mouthfuls of trusty Saigon Beer and with many smiling/laughing eyes focussed on me I had to man up and finish the last little bit in the shell, a task I completed in the same manner as I take paracetamol. It didn’t even touch the sides. The third and final part of this dish was still to come of course, I mean what kind of multi-course meal in an egg-shell do you know of that doesn’t come with desert included? So the very hard boiled remnants of the yolk was dispatched quickly and quietly to the disappointment of the onlookers, leaving a very strong and chalky eggy aftertaste that was not unpleasant but definitely not desert!
Would I try it again? Most definitely.Would I be looking forward to it? Probably not, though at least this time I would know what to expect and could probably/hopefully focus on enjoying the flavour rather than wondering if that subtle bit of resistance on my teeth is skull or spine.
yD
n Re e c y la
The inclusion of dog meat stirred not one jot of emotion, as even at my tender age I could not see the difference between sticking a piece of Daisy the cow, or Rover the Shitzu in my mouth. Protein, it’s all good protein.
T
here was however one item on the list, fairly high up there too which did not sit well with me, even with my pragmatic young mind. It is known in the Philippines as “Balut egg”, in Cambodia as “pong tea khon“ and in Vietnam as “hột vịt lộn”, but to most foreigners it’s known as a “fertilised duck egg”. It is an egg that is incubated to the point of maturity, typically around 20-22days before being aborted by boiling in a pan of water, and is a popular snack to accompany a bottle or two of the local beer.
eyes and chewed. Surprisingly tender was my initial thought, think traditional French veal being like braising steak in comparison to this. So tender, almost pate like. The bones, one of my biggest fears were barely detectable, and when I did find one it turned out to be pretty flexible and almost gelatinous in nature.
Written B
“I am somewhat proud to say that I will happily try anything when it comes to food”
Even after all these years I can still picture the way the Philippines consume the contents of the egg. One starts by cracking open the less pointed end of the egg, one is then confronted with ones starter: Soup. After slurping up this clear consommé like liquid one is free to peel the egg a little further until the foetus is found. Next on the show they pulled the whole chick out of the egg and unwrapped it from its foetal position, an image that burned itself into my retinas, but not more so than the image of a local dropping the whole thing into his mouth and dealing with it in the manner I deal with Cadburys Cream Eggs, smiles and all! Here I deviated, I wimped out a little, I stuck my spoon in, closed my
e
Facing My Food Fear!
So what did it taste like?