Some foods are measured not by their “ahhh” but by their “eeuuwww” factor. We know which ones they are.
The notion of dining out on frog leg’s meunière – meaty amphibian limbs sautéed in butter, a bit of garlic, drizzled with lemon juice and dusted with chopped fresh parsley is repellent to some but swoonworthy to others. A fair number feel the same way about, say, sautéed sweetbreads in white bean ragout.
Sweetbreads, not to be confused with bread baked with apples, sugar, cinnamon and raisins, usually come from a well-cleaned calf, lamb or pig thymus gland, also called the throat sweetbread.
This is not to be confused with the pancreas, also called the “stomach sweetbread,” prized because its large oval shape can be sliced into medallions.
A breakfast treat in some households consists of fried calf’s brains scrambled with eggs in bacon drippings with scallions – unless you prefer organs south of the noggin, like liver – which isn’t worth its metabolic function unless prepared medium rare, topped with butter-braised red onions, with sides of rice and gravy and fresh green beans.
Be aware too of the most honored part of a whole fish at any Asian dinner party: If offered a fish eye, it must be accepted and consumed. A word to the squeamish: Don’t chew; swallow it whole and pretend it’s a giant round vitamin capsule.
It’s hard to say where food aversions begin. For many the roots lie in what one grows up eating at home, and/or what friends eat. It’s hard to surprise the seasoned traveler, because many part of the world enjoy organ meats to a greater degree than most North Americans.
For example, Easterners new to Colorado are not as likely to be excited by the presence of Rocky Mountain oysters as those accustomed to eating calf testicles.
Alternately known as prairie oysters, Montana tendergroins, cowboy caviar, swinging beef and calf fries, the image, if not the slightly chewy texture, lacks appeal for novices.
There are still parts of Asia where men believe animal genitals are an aphrodisiac. This conviction comes from the Roman notion that eating healthy animal organs could correct an ailment corresponding to the organ of the man eating it.
Which accounts for Beijing’s Penis Emporium, a restaurant devoted to dog, ox, donkey, seal and snake. Fried, braised, in fondue or hotpot. Deer blood cocktail. Yours for the asking.
Or not.
Speaking of blood, there’s nothing like blood sausage on bread, layered between paper-thin slices of tomato, leaf lettuce, onion and whole-grain mustard.
Unless, of course, the notion makes your blood curdle.
Just in case you’re interested in what incredible edibles strike a chord in other parts of the world, take a peek inside the covers of “Fierce Food,” by Christa Weil (Plume, $14/paperback).
Read it and hope that when you visit Iceland it will be outside Thorrablot season, the month-
long January commemoration of ancient Viking conquests. It includes such gastronomic wonders as twice-cooked sheep’s head (the head is first charred black then boiled) and hakarl, putrified shark meat. Weil says, “It does to your taste buds what Viking marauders once did to unsuspecting Scottish villages of yore.”
Sneer if you like, but the real secret to perfect chicken soup is chicken feet. Tied in a double thickness bag of cheesecloth and boiled for two or three hours, it is the foundation for celery, onion, parsley and barley soup. Just remove the cheesecloth before adding the remaining ingredients and hope that none of the tiny claws have slipped through.
Or ask Southerners about the goodness of pig’s feet, otherwise known as trotters, pickled or cooked with a pot of navy beans. The feet should be scrubbed clean, boiled until the hardened skin starts to dissolve into a gelatinous mass; then boiled some more with beans, onion, garlic and thyme.
Trotters and beans make the perfect meal for a bitterly cold Saturday, especially if accompanied by hotwater corn bread, slaw and hot pepper sauce.
If these foods are too frightening for your Halloween table, you can always go for cornichons, pâté and crackers. Just remember that pâté is made with liver. Puréed liver encased in gelatin.
Gelatin comes from …
Oh well, happy Halloween.
Staff writer Ellen Sweets can be reached at 303-954-1284 or esweets@denverpost.com.
