Foods

Several nights ago, I made the mistake of asking about balut.  If you don't want to eat balut in the Philippines, then you should pretend you don't know it exists.  Tita Jane assured me she loves it, it's healthy (it's really not, and you have to remember what it is--a cholesterol factory for baby chickens), and that we'd get beer and balut on our trip to Subic Bay.  Well, Subic Bay happened, but balut didn't. 

I was at her house a few days later, and made mistake #2 of mentioning balut again.  Damn.  She said she had San Mig (I guess it's like their Bud Light here in that it seems to be more popular than the full-calorie version, except that it doesn't taste like complete crap).  I told her I'd need Red Horse.  The label tells you it's extra strong, but I couldn't tell the proof from the bottle.  There's some joke about when you drink it, you'll feel like the horse has kicked you.  I have already experienced that this trip.

Anyway, the next thing I know (there was no further mention of balut) while sitting at their dinner table, full of bangus, pork asago, green mango salad, and Sans Rival, Tito Edward arrives back to the house via scooter with a sack full of hot eggs.  I mean, they are hot to touch.  Like, extremely.  I don't know how high temperatures are able to keep here, but I've noticed that with several other hot foods.  They claim it's just the styrofoam, or "styro" packaging, but it must be like space material or something.  I have to watch Tita Jane slurp the egg/chicken juice from the egg first.  That in itself makes me gag.  I really can't handle the thought of eggs, period.  The inside of the shell is a windy interstate of blood vessels.  Kind of pretty, really, if you don't think of the function. 

EAT IT!!  EAT THE BALUT!!! is what I'm commanded.  Ugh.  Why did I have to wonder aloud about this "food"?  I really knew I would do it, but for some reason, decided I needed to look and poke at it and whine about it for about 15 minutes before shoving the delicious morsel of hot vinegar-soaked chicken embryo right in my trap.  Actually, it was the bottom half of the little chickee.  I saw the outline of the head and beak within the white of the egg, and I just couldn't do it.  In fact, Tita Jane couldn't do it either--her balls seemed to ascend as she retracted her statements that balut is delicious.  That juice she drank?  That was it for her.  She then looked at my fate, lying there helpless on the dish, and decided she couldn't go through with it. 

I continued without her.  The yoke shows up as a little yellow disc, also covered with blood vessels.  Ew.  That was my first bite, taking the whole thing as one bite, and I almost threw up.  I dawdled some more before eating the "stone," the round white bit that lies flush against the shell, so named for its hard consistency.  Really, it is tasteless.  More dawdling ensued before the camera was flipped to video mode and all eyes were on me to eat this half developed chicken.  San Mig in hand, I did it.  It was dipped in vinegar, and, surprisingly, not *quite* as detestable as I had anticipated.  Will I do it again??  Ayoko.

Anything else I tell you about adventurous foods will be unimpressive.  But I'll say that every time I manage to keep a morsel of shrimp, prawns, squid, or octopus down without it coming out the wrong orifice, I give myself a hearty pat on the back.