It started with snails, just once or twice; even the occasional frog’s leg. Before I knew it, I was into haggis and eel, sweetbreads and tripe. And then it was just a short leap into chicken feet, milt and brawn. Now, it’s crickets, fugu and sea cucumber.
As an inspector I can’t afford to be squeamish but nor would I ever want to be. There are only so many meals one can eat in a year so why not experiment a little? In fact, I’m the very opposite of squeamish – I’ll try anything. For me, there are few things more exciting than spying something unfamiliar on the menu. And isn’t curiosity one of the best things about life?
I met a friend for dinner recently who’s a fussy eater. He was late so I ordered some crispy pig’s ears to snack on while I waited. When he arrived it didn’t take long before he was enthusiastically popping them into his mouth and saying “These are great. What are they?” His face lost a little colour when he heard my answer, but I had to remind him that he’d been loving them minutes earlier.
In the UK when people discover what I do for a living, their first question is rarely “What’s your favourite country or your favourite cuisine?” but more often “What’s the strangest thing you’ve ever eaten?” How odd that we are fascinated by unusual food yet so timid at the same time. So why are we so neophobic when it comes to unfamiliar tastes?
Our parents can carry some of the blame – the fussiest eaters I know were born to families where the evening meal was safe, familiar and heavy on the blandness. There’s perhaps an element of cultural superiority at play here too – we might smirk at the strange food habits of ‘Johnny Foreigner’ without realising he’s laughing at our own lack of adventure.
Climate, history, religion, geography, farming methods and a myriad of other factors govern the make-up of most nations’ foods. We’re not adverse to a little adventure in our own cuisine – Stargazy pie anyone? – but surely one of the joys of international travel (remember that?) is trying unfamiliar foods and, as a consequence, becoming more daring in our choices at home.
We eat some animals that other countries don’t and avoid others that some cultures consider fair game – no pun intended. Is it because we view some animals as pets? Does anthropomorphism play a role? And why do foods fall out of fashion? Reindeer and rabbit were once widely enjoyed but are now seen as luxury items – and that can’t be all down to Bambi and Thumper.
At a time of environmental consciousness and health awareness, surely now is the time we should be eating more natural ingredients and less processed food. I’ve had yakitori with over 25 different parts of the chicken. (Granted, the first time I had chicken sashimi I did pause slightly). I’ve had a soup of double-boiled snow frog with deer placenta and fish maw; I don’t think it’ll ever be considered for inclusion as one of Heinz’s 57 varieties but it should have been – it was utterly sublime. I’ve had chocolate covered scorpions, Durian fruit that smells awful but tastes divine, sandworm soup, snake soup, bird’s nest soup, razorbill, 100 year-old-egg, horse, crocodile and ants. But one thing you wouldn’t catch me eating is a cheap supermarket sausage.
Squeamishness for some people also includes handling food – so many supermarket ingredients and ready-made meals are designed so that you don’t actually need to touch the food. Touching food? Whatever next? Food shouldn’t be kept at arm’s length. Preparing ingredients should be joyful and physical, not sombre and scary. The friends of mine who live the most passionate lives are the one who roll up their sleeves and get their hands dirty, figuratively and literally.
We have enough routine in our lives so why make what we eat routine too? We only have a certain number of mouthfuls left in a lifetime. One of the great joys of eating out is enjoying produce and ingredients we don’t often find to cook at home, so take that leap, put your faith in chefs – and try something new.
