In Conclusion

            As my two weeks of gastronomic adventure come to a close, what I have I learned in the process? The most surprising aspect of this project, for me, was how difficult it was to find foods I had never tried before. I think it is a testament to the absurdity of the American surplus that I can walk into a supermarket full of tens of thousands of foods and find only a few that I have never tried before. I also like to think of myself as a pretty adventurous eater – if someone presents me with a new food, I make a point of tasting it.

            Since I’ve tried so many of the foods local to New England, I had to turn to foods that came from across the country or globe to find that new experience. Consequently, my carbon footprint associated with this project was significantly more substantial than I would have liked. The other result of this long distance taste-testing was that many of my foods were – I believe – mediocre specimens. The rule tends to be that fresh foods taste better, so some of the excitement of the novelty was tempered by the lesser quality of the food. I found this with basically all the exotic fruits I tried over the last two weeks.

            Interestingly, the foods that I had the lowest expectations for – tofurky, parsnip, almond milk – ended up being the most impressive. I was thoroughly convinced by the soy-based turkey substitute to the extent that I doubt I will by deli turkey again. I don’t have much need for almond milk in my daily life, but I’m glad I know there is a tasty, dairy-free alternative out there.

            Every one of the fruits and vegetables I tried were presented by their various online proponents as essentially perfect foods. They were all full of the valuable nutrients and fiber that I need, but while I’m living in New England, there is only one that I want to eat again. I am happy to say that this one is the most local: the parsnip. I do want to try the tropical fruits again, but not until I can obtain fresh ones.

            The two best tasting foods I tried – though they were prepared by restaurants, which isn’t really fair – were those two strange, rubbery sea creatures. The calamari to start the project and the octopus to end it really epitomize my goals for this project. I was able to put aside my long-held prejudice against ingesting tentacles and see what all the fuss was about. In so doing, I have now experienced a wide variety of new foods and learned not to trust my initial expectations. Sometimes the brightest fruit isn’t the sweetest, and that unassuming, dull old parsnip turns out to be delicious. Thanks for reading and bon appétit!

Tako Sushi and Orange Hurricane Maki

            Incidentally, but appropriately, I find myself ending this project in much the same way I began it: consuming a strange, aquatic, tentacled beast. This time, I entered a sushi restaurant and chose the two items on the menu with ingredients I had never tried before. One was the so-called Orange Hurricane maki – a roll filled with crawfish (the new food), cream cheese and lobster sauce, and topped with some raw salmon. The other was tako sushi which is just a slice of octopus laid on top of some rice. Now, I love sushi. I hesitate to discriminate against other kinds of food, but sushi is easily one of my favorite cuisines. Despite this near obsession, I have a few types that I tend to eat much more than others and therefore I had never tried either of these sea creatures.

            With my deep love of sushi and my recent good experience with squid boosting my confidence, I was very excited to try my octopus. When the dish arrived, the two types of sushi were really quite beautiful – the pale white octopus with purple fringes next to the bright orange of the salmon and crawfish roll.

Saving the most exciting for last, I tried one of the crawfish pieces first. I have yet to eat a piece of sushi I didn’t enjoy, and this was not to be the first. The crawfish tasted understandably like lobster (reinforced by the lobster sauce) but with a sweeter note to it, to use the “Taste Makers” vocabulary. The salmon helped complete the soft texture of the roll as a whole. It really was delicious. Apparently, the fact that I had never eaten crawfish is remarkable, because the annual US crawfish harvest is over 100,000,000 pounds¹. I suppose my deprivation is merely a result of my location. Since 98% of the US crawfish harvest comes from Louisiana², I guess most crawfish are eaten in the South.

After adequately savoring my first piece of crawfish sushi, I turned to the one I was simultaneously least and most excited to try. Even though I had thoroughly enjoyed the calamari that started this project, I couldn’t shake my prejudice against eating rubbery animals with suction cups. The sushi before me was so elegant, though, that it really was irresistible. So, with a little flourish, I popped the whole piece in my mouth. As expected, it was excessively chewy. Where the squid had been fried and therefore complemented by the crunch of the batter, this octopus presented itself in all its raw, rubbery glory. But with the chewiness came a subtle and pleasant flavor – not overly fishy. The emphasis of the taste was more on a subtle savoriness, and I would happily eat it again.

1.      http://www.cajuncrawfishpie.com/crawfish-farming.html

2.      http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Crayfish#United_States

Almond Milk

            Milk alternatives have never really been a part of my life. I don’t drink all that much milk, and when I do, I don’t question that it comes from a cow. When I learned that now, you can find not only soy, but also almond milk, I was intrigued. The brand I found was made by Blue Diamond, whose almonds I have enjoyed extensively in my life. In my parents’ house, a can of “smokehouse” almonds is a household staple. So before I even knew they made almond milk, they had my brand loyalty.

            First I tried just drinking a glass of it. I rarely just drink cow’s milk, but I thought I should make the comparison. I found the almond milk to have a surprisingly understated flavor. The end of the sip conveyed a hint of the drink’s nutty source, but mostly the drink was refreshing, clean tasting, and decidedly milky. For avid milk-lovers – and Melanie DuPuis demonstrated they are many – might not be satisfied, but since I don’t particularly like drinking milk on its own, I actually think I prefer a glass of this “Almond Breeze.” Certainly for vegans or anyone who doesn’t want to support our dairy system, almond milk can rival its soy counterpart. I haven’t had very much soy milk in my life, but I don’t have very positive memories of those few times. The Blue Diamond website goes so far as to guarantee the taste of their milk. They say they will fully refund any customer who doesn’t think “the lusciously smooth taste of Almond Breeze is more delicious¹” than soy milk. I know I won’t be asking for a refund.

            I also tried this milk in a bowl of Cap’n Crunch. Much like my experience with tofurky, when the mild nuttiness of the milk was hidden by the cereal flavor, I really couldn’t tell I wasn’t consuming cow’s milk. Therefore the merit of almond milk as a substitute very much depends on how you consume it. I thought it was delicious in both contexts, but I don’t see it replacing cow’s milk any time soon.

1.      http://www.almondbreeze.com/?navid=342

Parsnip Chips

            Until one of my friends brought one home from MarketShares, parsnips were a complete mystery to me. I could have told you they were vegetables, but beyond that they could have been, purple, square, tiny, lump – I had no clue. So when she pulled out of her bag a big, almost cylindrical orange blob, I had to try it. I tried it raw and found that it tastes extremely carrot-like. The parsnip is actually a lot like a giant carrot. I decided to follow a recipe I found that looked delicious for parsnip chips.

            I sliced and boiled the parsnip, rubbed them in melted butter and flour and then fried them in vegetable oil. After the frying, I seasoned them with salt, pepper, and chili powder. The result was a plate full of great tasting parsnip chips. Of course, pretty much anything fried is good, but the parsnip’s earthy taste still came through and worked well with the other flavors. I heard people doing the local eating project complain about how parsnips are the only vegetables left at this time of year. While I wouldn’t want to live on parsnips, I got a good deal of satisfaction out of mine.

            Considering parsnip store well and can therefore be available all year, I am surprised I have not come across them before. Apparently they are good sources of fiber, folic acid, and various vitamins, and they are low in calories¹, so why don’t people eat more of them. The taste could be a possible explanation, but people eat tons of carrots. Parsnips taste extremely similar and are much bigger. Something has drastically hurt parsnips’ reputation.

            I was able to dig up some historical explanations: parsnips’ affordability established their place as “crops for the poor².” They also have the reputation in Ireland of being pig food – not good enough for humans². Another factor that may have hurt its reputation is its unfortunate similarity in appearance to the poisonous water hemlock³.

         




          Whatever the reason, I think it’s time we reject these unfair prejudices and repair the parsnip’s reputation, so that everyone can enjoy parsnip chips or any of the other countless parsnip recipes out there. For my part, I will try to inform those who – like I had – have no idea what a parsnip even is.

1.      http://www.everynutrient.com/healthbenefitsofparsnips.html

2.      http://www.parsniprecipes.co.uk/parsnips-why-they-are-unpopular/3.      http://www.vegparadise.com/highestperch21.html

Prickly Pear

            The prickly pear is a surprisingly desired fruit. Considering it grows on a cactus and is coated in tiny spines, the fact that it is coveted for both food and medicine is counterintuitive. While the science is not there to support it, the prickly pear fruit has a history in Mexican folk medicine as a treatment for diabetes and the juice was used to treat burns¹. A writer for the Arizona Republic, who sees the fruits grow wild, reports on its many nutritious qualities: high vitamin C, calcium, potassium, and fiber, and low sodium, cholesterol, and saturated fat². It seems like I can’t find a fruit or vegetable that someone isn’t raving about. DuPuis’s account of milk’s rise to perfect food-hood makes a bit more sense now that I notice lots of foods being promoted in a similar manner. Apparently you can find a proponent for any food more nutritious than a Twinkie. Don’t get me wrong – I love fruit, but this prickly pear did not please me.

            If its nutrients were present, its flavors were not. Upon cutting it open, I was excited to find an enticing pomegranate-red flesh that looked juicy and flavorful. When I cut off the skin and took a bite, however, I felt horribly deceived. The flavor was virtually nonexistent – at best a slight tanginess – and the texture was that of a dry watermelon. Add to these qualities an overabundance of hard, little seeds and the whole experience was decidedly underwhelming. I am willing to give prickly pears the benefit of the doubt and say that mine was just a bad representative. After all, the non-locality of this fruit once again means it is hardly fresh of the cactus. Plus, I really have no idea where it was in the ripening process. I’m thinking, based on the texture, that it was probably a little overripe.

            So where does this leave me? I suppose the jury is still out on the prickly pear as a food and as a medicine. Will I eat it again? I think probably not, unless I travel a couple thousand miles to the southwest.

1.      http://www.drugs.com/npp/prickly-pear.html

2.      http://www.azcentral.com/health/diet/articles/0531prickly0531.html

Tofurkey Sandwich

            Before this project, I subscribed to the belief – which I think is common to many meat-eaters – that soy-based “meats” are inherently gross and/or utterly inadequate substitutes, even without having ever tasted any. When I saw some deli-style tofurky slices in the campus market, I realized I had never tasted it and that I ought to if I was to pass judgment on it. So, for lunch today, I decided to make a sandwich using this meat substitute.

            Now, my sandwiches are notoriously packed with ingredients. Since I didn’t want to miss the taste of the tofurky amidst all these others, I first ate a piece plain. I was presently surprised to find it a pretty satisfactory imitation. There is something mildly disconcerting about the experience of eating soy and tasting turkey, but the flavor is convincing enough that I was able to commit myself to the illusion. I then joined it with many of my favorite sandwich ingredients: mayonnaise, cheddar, avocado, tomato, and lettuce, with a few drops of peri peri hot sauce.

            The result was a quite delicious sandwich. I thoroughly enjoyed it and the soy aftertaste that had betrayed the nature of the “turkey” was masked, and I really could have been eating a turkey sandwich. Even the texture is pretty accurate, which is truly a mysterious miracle of culinary engineering. I have to say, tofurky far exceeded my expectations.

            Given that this “turkey” carries with it none of the injustices and energetic efficiency of industrial turkey production, I am now thinking my days of deli turkey may be behind me. I honestly don’t think I enjoyed my tofurky sandwich any less than I do a regular turkey sandwich. So, to those who are like I was, I suggest you taste this food before evaluating it. If someone is able to taste its non-turkeyness and is bothered by it, they need not eat it, but for those who cannot tell the difference, don’t be a turkey! Choose the one that is better for the environment.

Quail Eggs/Kwek Kwek

            When I first saw the can of quail eggs, I was a little put off. It had never really occurred to me to eat the eggs of any bird besides a chicken. Upon a little further thought, however, this distinction is really extremely arbitrary, and given how many chicken eggs I eat, I should have no problem eating quail eggs. These eggs are actually very popular in the Philippines, served hard boiled and then deep fried in a colored, flour dough. I decided to make this simple dish, called Kwek Kwek, to enjoy my quail eggs, since they were already hard boiled in the can.

            The process was easy enough: I just coated the eggs in the dough and threw them in some hot vegetable oil¹. The little dough balls were actually quite delicious. Fried things do tend to be, and I can’t say I could taste anything particularly quail-y, but they made for a very tasty snack. I can see why they are so popular among Filipino street vendors².

            Eating these miniature eggs raised a question for me that I’m surprised I had never thought about before. Why do we eat exclusively chicken eggs? I suppose it has a lot to do with the chicken’s long history in domestication. Still, apparently there are other species whose eggs we are able to harvest. I wonder what effect a larger market for quail eggs would have on the chicken egg industry. Is it possible that a wider variety of laying birds could mean less intense production of any one kind? I’m thinking about the difference between intense monoculture of plants versus the organic multi-crop system. Perhaps egg producers actively keep quail eggs out of the American market, considering the ones I bought were Japanese.

            While the smallness of quail eggs makes the Kwek Kwek a great bite-sized snack, there is no reason I can’t use chicken eggs in the future, so I’m glad to have this simple, scrumptious recipe in my repertoire. I can’t take the name, though. Maybe I’ll call them Kluk Kluk.

1.      http://www.pinoyrecipe.net/kwek-kwek-recipe-tukneneng/

2.      http://blogcritics.org/tastes/article/fried-quail-eggs-filipino-pop-culture/

Hawaiian Papaya

            I was really excited to try my papaya. It’s hard to imagine a tropical fruit tasting bad. Then again, my mangosteens and pomelo, while not tasting bad, did I think, misrepresent their fresh versions. Still, I had high hopes for my papaya, even though it was labeled as a Hawaiian papaya and therefore had travelled quite some distance from its tree. I wasn’t sure whether it was ripe, but found conflicting advice on the internet. Apparently a papaya is ripe it’s mostly yellow and it gives slightly to pressure. Mine only had one big yellow patch, but definitely gave when I squeezed it. So, mostly in the dark I decided to give in to my curiosity and just eat it. I’m fairly sure I have had drinks that contain papaya, but never without other fruits, so even if the flavors were real and not synthesized, I still couldn’t say what a papaya tasted like alone.

            I found multiple websites raving about the benefits of eating papayas and both described the flavor in the same adoring tone (verbatim): “Deliciously sweet with musky undertones and a soft, butter-like consistency.^{1, 2}.” Both papaya fan sites also recall that Columbus was purported to have called papaya the fruit of angels.

Columbus’s enthusiasm lives on in these sites which claim papaya provides countless health benefits, promoting a healthy heart, digestive and immune systems, to name a few¹. With so much strong endorsement, how could I not be excited?

When I halved my papaya, it revealed a bright, orange flesh – similar in color to cantaloupe. I scooped out the little black seeds. Considering how easy it was to remove the seeds and excess pulp with a spoon makes me think I got the ripeness just about right. I peeled one half a cut myself a chunk. Like the other out-of-season fruits I’ve tried for this project, my papaya didn’t live up to its hype. I keep reinforcing the idea that a fruit really can’t demonstrate its full gastronomic potential after having travelled thousands of miles. Once again, I am left with a strong desire to taste the fresh fruit so I can make a valid comparison.

1.      http://www.whfoods.com/genpage.php?tname=foodspice&dbid=47
2.      http://www.enzyme-facts.com/papaya.html

Agar Agar (Strange Tofu Custard Pie)

            When I walked into the Chinese supermarket, the first thing that caught my eye was a box full of these strange, brightly colored sticks. They were two to a package and there were yellow, red, green, and white ones. I picked up a yellow one and read the label. I think this easily takes the cake for the most mysterious food product (maybe product of any kind) I’ve ever seen. Obviously, I had to buy it, but what was it? Agar-agar. From the shape and the look of it, I took it to be some strange sort of candy. I looked to the ingredients hoping to divine some clue about its contents and found only two: agar-agar and yellow #5. In a cruelly circular fashion, I had learned that this yellow stick called agar-agar was made of agar-agar and yellow. Finally – though I shouldn’t have been surprised at this point – when I turned it over and read the nutrition facts, I found 0% across the board.

            It was not until I got home and was able to do a little research that I gained any real insight into this mysterious food. It turns out I had not found some delicious foreign candy. In fact, agar-agar is about as close to the opposite as it gets. It is made from seaweed and is used as a vegetarian substitute for gelatin to thicken custards and the like¹. Why they feel the need to dye it unnatural colors I couldn’t say. Once I understood what I had on my hands, I realized I needed a recipe if I was going to eat it (I did actually try it raw and found it flavorless and almost unchewable). I found one that called itself “No-Bake Cheesecake²” and decided to go for it. Quite mysteriously – and appropriately given my previous experience with agar-agar – this recipe included no cheese of any kind. Instead it is a sort of sweet tofu custard. When I put the recipe into action, it didn’t turn out quite the way I’d hoped. The agar-agar didn’t seem to do its job of thickening and the filling remained pretty soupy even after chilling in the refrigerator. Even so, it didn’t turn out too badly and the graham cracker crust added a very tasty crunch. In the end it made for a light, creamy, and very vegetarian-friendly dessert. My roommate actually really liked it.

            It’s hard to say exactly what the agar-agar contributed to the mix, but it is certainly the strangest food product I’ve consumed for this project. It also sounds much more exotic than it is, so it should be useful for wowing people at parties – “I’ve eaten agar-agar!”

1.      http://dairyfreecooking.about.com/od/dairyfreeglossary/g/AgarAgar.htm

2.      http://www.cooks.com/rec/doc/0,1931,152172-237192,00.html

Mangosteen in Syrup

          In all the literature I found on mangosteens, everyone agrees they are a delicious, melt-in-your-mouth fruit. Unfortunately, I could not get the fresh fruit and had to settle for canned mangosteen in syrup. Apparently, before 2007, mangosteens in the US could only be found in cans. For fear of introducing the Asian fruit fly in America, the US banned the import of mangosteens¹, which are mostly grown in Thailand (the origin of mine as well). Now, mangosteens are allowed into the country on the condition that they have been irradiated to kill any flies. Just from an intuitive standpoint, I don’t feel quite so disappointed that I couldn’t find a whole, irradiated mangosteen.

          The canned fruit, however, didn’t live up to the hype of its fresh counterpart. The can was filled mostly with syrup with the pale white innards of about six mangosteens bobbing dully within. Having soaked in sugar-water for who knows how long, the meat of the fruit was overly sweet in a way that clearly overpowered its true flavor. I can’t say it tasted bad, but it had some of the texture of canned peaches, but with a much blander taste. I can only believe that this can which made its way to me from Thailand simply does not do justice to the fresh fruit. Canned fruits never do, though, so I can’t say I was too surprised. The experience has not turned me off of mangosteens. On the contrary, I am now even more curious to taste the fruit in the state the tree intended. Of course, I find myself having to weigh my culinary curiosity against the environmental irresponsibility of shipping a fruit halfway across the globe. How are we to balance the unprecedented opportunities of our time (I doubt my parents have even heard of a mangosteen) with the unprecedented environmental crises of our time?

1.      http://www.delish.com/food-fun/banned-food

Tito Al's Favorites

          Like many of the foods on this blog, my “Tito Al’s Choice” fried pork skins came from a nearby Chinese supermarket. My friend who was shopping with me (actually the same one who raved about pomelos) recommended the pork skins, and as I thought they were kind of gross and therefore exotic, I grabbed a bag. A few days later, I wanted a snack and decided to give Tito Al’s a try. Despite the mild revulsion that accompanied my knowledge of what I was eating, I opened the bag and crunched down on one of the little puffs. It’s hard for me to articulate why eating an animal’s skin seems so much grosser than its meat – but it does.

Once you get past the strangeness though, Tito Al’s favorite snack tastes essentially like bacon, just with an added crunch. This snack – which a quick Google search reveals to be quite ubiquitous in Chinese and Filipino stores – left me of two minds. As I learn more about the industrial meat production system and find myself perched on the brink of vegetarianism, these pork skins bring with them the same legacy of injustice to animals, workers, and the environment. Simultaneously, since this is the system we currently have, wasting as little of the animal as possible is a good thing and if people like eating Tito Al’s, it’s fine by me. Personally, I didn’t find them tasty enough to keep me eating. I don’t know who Tito Al is, but I hope he varies his diet, because one serving of these fried skin strips contains 10% of your daily saturated fat, 5% of your daily cholesterol, and 9% of your daily sodium.

Bamboo shoots!

Never have I felt so much like a panda as when I lowered some bamboo shoot into my mouth. OK. So pandas don't use chopsticks, and their bamboo isn't pickled in salt and MSG, but still... I don't feel like a panda very often.

These shoots remain a bit of a mystery since the only recipes I could find called for fresh bamboo shoots or at the very least, unpickled ones. The only thing I can think to do with them is add them to some sort of stir fry or fried rice dish. My first move, however, was to try them on their own. The long, soggy strand tasted most powerfully like MSG. The texture and what I could make of the inherent taste of the plant were reminiscent of baby corn. Although the high salt and MSG content of my “crispy seasoned” shoots undoubtedly affects their nutritional value, a cup of bamboo shoots on their own provide 10% of daily fiber needs and 18% of daily potassium, which “helps to maintain normal blood pressure and a steady heartbeat.¹” These nutritional bonuses and their low calorie content make bamboo shoots “ideal for: weight loss” and “optimum health.²” So, while they haven’t reached the status of milk, bamboo shoots are an excellent candidate for the next “perfect food” craze. I can picture the ads now: “great for your heart, an excellent source of fiber, with that tangy crunch you love!” The narrator shouts this at us while we watch a fit young person and a cute panda share a good munch on some fresh young shoots.

I may be too cynical here, seeing as fiber and potassium are both important nutrients for a healthy diet, but after eating my – albeit overly processed – bamboo shoots, I can’t get too excited about such a flavorless food. When it comes down to, no matter how seasoned they are, I’m still eating a giant blade of grass.

1.     http://agsyst.wsu.edu/bambroc.pdf

2.     http://www.great-workout.com/nutrition/vegetables/bamboo-shoots-nutrition-facts.cfm

Grapefruit? Orange? Pomelo!

I love grapefruits. I am often disappointed in restaurants or cafeterias when they serve grapefruit halves because that is simply not enough grapefruit for me. I will happily tuck in to an entire juicy, pink grapefruit at breakfast. Imagine my surprise, then, when a friend of mine told me I had been missing out on one of the grapefruit's delicious ancestors, the pomelo! He told me he had first tried it in China, but not to worry because they could often be found in American supermarkets. Despite his urgings, I went about a year enjoying my status quo of grapefruit before I encountered a pomelo while grocery shopping with this project in mind.

To the untrained eye, a pomelo could easily be a grapefruit. The key difference is that pomelos are the largest citrus fruit; apparently, they can grow to up to a foot in diameter¹, but mine was only a little larger than an average grapefruit.

Upon cutting it open, I discovered a pink, grapefruit-like flesh, but the rind was very thick and spongy. I cut away a slice and peeled away the membrane which was much tougher than a grapefruit’s. Getting at the flesh was a bit of chore – somewhat like removing the seeds from a pomegranate – but it was a worthwhile endeavor. The fruit was juicy and refreshing, but also very mild. Since it looked so much like a grapefruit, I expected some of that unique, grapefruit-y bitterness, but that taste wasn’t present. It was overall an enjoyable experience, but the friend who had advocated them said it wasn’t as good as the ones he had eaten in the past. I guess I can’t complain about a less-than-perfect pomelo given that it’s February and the fruit probably travelled across the country just so I could have a new experience.

Still, I hope there are more pomelos in my future. I can only imagine what a pomelo tastes like fresh off the tree. I wonder why it’s such a relatively unknown fruit. It is the source of grapefruits, yet I’ve never seen pomelo juice for sale or even a fruit drink with the flavor. In a world where you can buy drinks flavored with dragonfruit, jackfruit, and all sorts of exotic sounding berries, why were pomelos left in the dust? Maybe the name just doesn’t conjure up that Indonesian paradise. Or, maybe their time just hasn't come yet. In Khatchadourian's "Taste Makers" article, Hagen and her team did taste and analyze a Tahitian pomelo, which sounded much more flavorful than mine. Mine didn't have any "hints of rice, peppercorn, and freshly cut grass²" – or maybe I'm just not a taste maker. In the article, after tasting the pomelo Hagen concluded, “a good soda²,” so when I see pomelo-ade for sale in the Blue Room, I’ll know who’s responsible. I’d be happy to see such a product made from my pomelo, so I can’t wait to get my hands on an even fresher one.

1.        http://www.theworldwidegourmet.com/products/fruits/pomelo/

2.        Khatchadourian, Raffi. “Taste Makers.” The New Yorker, November 23, 2009.

Happy Valentine's Day, Squid!

I am well aware of – and quite happy about – the fact that humans are omnivores. I take advantage of this fact every day. Still, there are some foods that just beg the question: who looked at that and decided to put it in their mouth?

For almost all of the first two decades of my life, squid fell into this category. Throughout my childhood, the question of eating a squid was simply moot. I knew that squid were slippery, had ten tentacles, and were certainly not food. Grilled cheese was good enough for me. As I entered adolescence and began encountering people who raved about fried calamari, I wasn’t swayed. I didn’t care what it was dipped in or how hot it was cooked – a squid is a squid.

Since the age of about 15 or 16, however, I have stopped rejecting new foods. At some point, I realized that I just love food and by being such a picky eater, I had been depriving myself of some delicious experiences. Even so, I never found myself driven to go out of my way to chew on some rubbery, tentacled, sea alien.

Much of the world, however, does not share my prejudice. Squid is eaten in various forms in as disparate locales as Sicily and Tokyo. About 200,000 tons of squid a year are consumed in Spain alone¹. And that statistic is from 1987 – I can only imagine how many of these strange creatures are eaten today.

It was with this squiddy history behind me and a calamari-loving girlfriend by my side that I found myself this February 14^th at an Italian restaurant looking down at the menu. And what did I find staring back at me from that prime menu spot, the first appetizer? Of course, calamari fritti. Feeling adventurous and self-sacrificial on this most sacred of Hallmark holidays, I suggested we split it.

Now, you might look at the picture and say, “that’s no fair – it’s all decked out in peppers and sundried tomatoes and dripping in herby vinegar.” Well I say a squid is a squid, and when tasted that dish there was no denying its squidness. As I had expected, the chewiness was there, but with it came an unexpected savoriness that complimented the satisfying crunch of the fried batter. The chef probably deserves as much praise as the squid, but the dish was delicious and I ate every last bite. A purist may say I have yet to really try squid, but it’s probably best to ease into these things, and my first try was a great success. Good news for me – maybe not so good for all the squid out there.

1.       http://findarticles.com/p/articles/mi_m3089/is_n2_v52/ai_10826769/