auradis

Ever since I was a young child, I’ve wondered what dog food tastes like. I should probably explain that my stomach is very easily visually stimulated, and literally anything can make me hungry, from the flowers on the tree outside of JZ’s apartment shaped like shortbread cookies to that scene in Lion King when Scar is taunting his three top minions with that zebra leg [I love watching animals eat]. I am always hungry.

I’ve never been interested in trying kibble, but dog treats [ie. those Milkbone things] always looked like fun, bone-shaped cookies. I recall having a dream many years ago that I actually tried one, but couldn’t taste anything in my dream.

These memories arose when I read that apparently, liver paté tastes like dog food. No joke.

Now, everyone I’ve met in college has been disgusted by the thought of eating liver. Although it’s definitely an acquired taste, I don’t think it’s fair of them to turn up their nose at something that’s really not that disgusting compared to brain or bugs — then again, Americans seem to be less imaginative about what they consume, probably because the only Americans who have starved were the Pilgrims and so were never really forced into such desperate measures, and that’s because they simply did not know how to grow crops. Well, I suppose people starved during the Great Depression too; I’ve heard tales of eating shoe leather [now THAT is atrocious].

Anyway, I love liver. I’ve been fed the stuff from a young age, and I definitely prefer it over the chewiness of heart or kidney. Chicken liver is good, and that’s the kind I have most commonly [I bought a tub of the stuff last semester and created some interesting results], although at one restaurant in China last summer, I was reminded of how absolutely delicious pork liver is. I would love the opportunity to try duck or goose liver, although the method of procuring those livers really makes me shudder.

In Chinese Civilizations class earlier this week, the prof was talking to us about Chinese cuisine. While describing either Mongolian or Sichuan hot pot, he mentioned trying pig brain and cow stomach, much to the distaste of my classmates [I’ve had the latter but I will NOT eat brain. It simply does not seem delicious in any way]. One classmate pointed out that another name for cow stomach is tripe, to which my prof added that changing the name does change one’s impression of a food. Foie gras, escargot, and caviar are all similar examples. Alas, Chinese people do not, to my knowledge, disguise their bizarre foods with foreign names, so some of the stuff inevitably ends up sounding gross to some.

I remember eating snail when we visited Dalian maybe six years ago — I had to extract it from the shell with a toothpick, but it wasn’t unpleasant. I must have developed extra inhibitions since then because I’m not sure I’d be able to eat it if I were faced with it today. I’ve also never been able to eat frog’s legs — I can’t even stand looking at them. If they taste like chicken, why not just eat chicken? I don’t want my chicken to come in the shape of little legs that I can imagine hopping around, attached to a frog [NOT delicious-looking as far as animals go]. I would also never eat bugs, although the ones that Timon and Pumbaa devoured in the Lion King movies really did look tasty.