Offbeat
Testicles.
So after my food column debut in the Crimson (a day in Chinatown), I have a few other columns in the works. I think one of my favorite kinds of food adventures is the complete gross-out.
Which is why I need to know if you know where to get testicles. Not frozen ones from the supermarket. Because I can’t really cook, and I’d like to give testicular-induced culinary joy its best shot.
So pray tell, gentle readers: what restaurant in Boston serves balls?
I’d like fries with a side of lethal injection, please.
mmm fries and death
Meals to Die For is a memoir of a prison cook who prepared final meals for inmates. Apparently they didn’t always get what they wanted. (An appeal?) Filet mignon became t-bone steak… 24 hamburgers became 4.
On the Arizona Department of Corrections website, the state where the author worked, you can see what each prisoner requested.
They’re usually some combo of hamburger and fried eggs. For example, this guy got a little excited:
Six fried eggs, cooked over-easy, 16 strips of bacon, one large portion of hash-browns, one pint of pineapple sherbet ice cream, one “breakfast steak” well done. One 16 ounce cup filled with ice, one 7UP, 1 Dr. Pepper, 1 Coke, one portion of hot sauce, one cup of coffee, two packets of sugar and four Rolaids tablets.
I mean, who needs the Rolaids when you’re about to uh, DIE? I guess you don’t your last moments on earth ruined not only by the stony-faced executioner wielding a syringe but a bad case of acid reflux.
Anyway, read the interview with the chef.
Mmm, crickets.
It also came in a cheese-dusted flavor.
Whilst browsing gourmet food shop Cardullo’s in Harvard Square, I came across this little novelty gem – salt n’ vinegar crick-ettes. They also came in perennial favorite sour cream and onion as well as something cheesy.
Since I do a bit of food writing now, I’ve been wondering about the improbable varieties of chocolates offered, particularly things like wasabi and bacon flavored bars. (Usually not together.) So I started interrogating the cashier about chocolate. Are there more local chocolate producers? No. Noticing any trends with chocolate flavors? Just bacon. I wish there were a story here. Maybe I’ll write a feature on the improbable, decadent marriage of bacon and chocolate.
Totally edible.
Yes, these are miniburgers, about big as a thumbtip and far more delicious. I would hope.
They’re basically little cookie sandwiches with sesame seeds sprinkled on top, white chocolate mimicking the gooey delights of Kraft singles, milk chocolate aping hamburger patty. Delicious.
Found at Unique Grocery in Union Square.
I’m trying to save money now, but if I had some, I would probably blow it on pretty baubles for my ears, like beaded chandelier earrings or the elegant green stones found at Topaz in Harvard Square.
Now, if only I could find the perfect turquoise necklace, I would be in accessory heaven.
Icelandic Cuisine, Or How Lingbo Ate Rotten Shark, Rare Whale, and Smoked Puffin
Hákarl is fermented shark meat that’s served in small cubes. It sounded absolutely disgusting, so I knew I had to try it.
toast, rotten shark, herring 3 ways
I found a seafood place that was supposed to serve this local specialty. It was featured in an appetizer along with pickled herring. Neither sounded appetizing, but I went ahead and ordered anyway.
It looked innocent enough – pale, pink, a bit of a rubbery texture, but put it in your mouth and the taste is pure ammonia – like chewing gum made of industrial cleaning fluids. You’re supposed to chase it with Schnapps. I was given a shot of the local speciality, Brennivín, nicknamed “Black Death.”
Also on my plate was pickled herring 3 ways, with no way managing to overcome its offensive heritage.
I ate a lot of the bread that night. The smjör (butter) was good. I enviously glared at my friend’s meal of cod and langoustine (lobster) in a cream sauce.
So far, Iceland: 1. Lingbo: 0.
I wasn’t about to give up yet. Next on my hit list was a cuddly, peaceful mammal.
“Where can I get good whale?” I asked one local.
“Þrir Frakkar,” he replied immediately. The name means Three Frenchmen.
He went into the tricky particulars of preparing whale.”The thing about whale is that you have to cook it right. You can only cook it for 40 seconds on each side or else it tastes like cod liver oil. They have puffin, too.”
Sold! I asked the hotel owner where it was, and he drew it up on a map – just a short walk away, but then again, everything was a short walk away from our very centrally located hotel room.
When 7pm rolled around, Marco and I were seated with menus listing delicacies like smoked puffin and hashed fish on Icelandic black bread. He got salted cod on a bed of apples and raisins.
a puffin appetizer
First was a smoked puffin appetizer. It came in maroon strips with blobs of yellow mustard, whose tangy sweetness provided a nice counterpart to the gamey, smokey taste of puffin. It was particularly delicious atop bread with a dollop of mustard.
whale steak
Then the main event. Mine was served with with a pepper cream sauce. I gingerly lifted a steak with my fork and noted the purplish blood that was mingling with the sauce.
I bit into my first piece, expecting the exotic, and ended up with a mouthful of familiar. If you like steak, you’ll love whale. It’s darker, denser, and more intense than its bovine counterpart, but otherwise similar in flavor. However, it wasn’t entirely beef. There was a faint undercurrent of fishiness and that made you aware that you were still eating a very, very rare slab of a marine animal.
Food presentation was suspect, plated with an afterthought of pale potato spheres. One small spot in the steak was overdone. The local was right: a mouthful of cod liver oil.
The thing is, I don’t really like steak, even the normal kind that comes from cows. I struggled to finish one of my two steaks, and again looked lustfully after Marco’s meal. I had the waitress pack up the leftover whale steak.
We did crappy Thai food the next night.
I finished my food.
Tired of meal failures and semi-failures, I decided on Saegreifinn (The Sea Baron) for our last dinner. They were known for their cheap, tasty lobster soup, something which I figured would be as comforting and familiar as Kraft Easy Mac after rotten shark and rare whale.
We walked in and saw an few shelves of raw kebobs. Cod kebobs, whale kebobs, salmon kebobs, potato kebobs. Other than the potato, the whale was the cheapest option.
the menu at the sea baron
I spotted no menu, so I asked the cashier for one. She pointed to the platters of kebobs. That was the menu.
Our food came in styrofoam cups and trays, and there was no ambient noise other than the erratic rumbling of the refrigerator. We sat on nautically-themed stools at long tables too close together. The decor was somewhere between nautical and a disaster. And the lobster soup was delicious.
lobster soup
It wasn’t like a thick, creamy New England style lobster bisque. It was thinner, fragrant, and my spoon fished out tender chunks of langoustine. We dunked in buttered slices of bread and soaked up every last, savory drop. I also found a lone, confetti-sized square of red pepper and a few straggly bits of celery. Some talkative Hong Kong tourists and French tourists came in, and Marco was aghast that both our secret languages were rendered unsecret.
cod kebob
By the time I got my cod, I was already full. It was fresh and perfectly cooked, but bland, and I struggled to find the perfect condiments for it. “What’s that?” one of the Hong Kong tourists asked, pointing to the sweet mustard. “What about that?” he asked again, pointing to the very dilute, Icelandic brand soy sauce in a squeeze bottle. And then, “Where are you from?”
Nearing the end of my trip, I took a dip in the geothermal, silica-filled waters of the Blue Lagoon. Afterwards, I felt a bit peckish. The cafe offered skyr, the equivalent of yogurt here. It was super thick and creamy, with a smoother texture than yogurt, despite the fact it had a very low fat content. I wished they offered it in the US.
the city's best
But by far, one of our favorite meals on the trip was so good that we ate it with great gusto – three days in a row. It was the fabled Icelandic hot dog from Baejarins Beztu with all the condiments, including incredible fried onion bits and a sweet mustard.
“Why does this taste so good?” I cried in pylsur-related joy after taking a bite.
“It’s because it’s a combination of meats,” said the local who had treated us. “Lamb, cow, pig, and uh, some horse.”
On the last morning, I retrieved the whale from the fridge for a quick breakfast. It turned out that the restaurant had repackaged the steak with more potatoes and a side of pepper cream sauce. How thoughtful!
After a quick go in the microwave, it tasted as good as new.
“Like a barnyard in your mouth”: JoJo Taipei in Allston
It’s funny how your original goal (to introduce Dan to Chinese shaved ice) can morph into something utterly unrecognizable. In an epic rock-paper-scissors battle, it was decided that the spot would be JoJo Taipei in Allston. And when I saw pig intestines on the menu, how could I resist?
Actually, pig intestine showed up in 2 of the appetizers and 3-4 of the entrees. There was pig intestine in “fire casserole” (unclear), pig intestine in you noodles, pig intestine fried, pig instead steamed. It was a heaven of porcine entrails.
But that left many more options, since it would be hard to make a meal entirely of intestine. The waitress dropped off our complimentary roasted peanuts and pickled cabbages (delicious) and I did the ordering in Chinese. She seemed determined to speak Chinese, actually – usually waitresses pick up that my language skills are a little rusty, and switch over to English, but Dan only got a few quick admonitions to use his spoon and I did the ordering.
“We’re not very hungry,” I explained, requesting some suggestions.
“Ok, I’ll bring over stinky tofu and ‘xiao long bao’ (soup dumplings) then,” she replied immediately, already writing down our order. I was relieved to not have to make any decisions.
My camera crapped out after one picture, so dear blog reader, you will be treated to a far fancier camera this post.
Stinky Tofu
Stinky tofu arrived first. As soon as she set it down, the eponymous stink immediately hit you – like a breeze had blown over a manure pile. The dish itself was pretty disappointing – dry, with a the texture of a delicate sponge, and flavoring came only from a thin chili sauce that refused to cling to the fried surface of the tofu. Dan took one bite and made a face. “Like a barnyard in your mouth,” he said. I found that subsequent pieces didn’t have the same effect. You get used to the smell very fast.
Pig Intestine
Here is the pig intestine, with a nice peanutty dipping sauce and stuffed with chives. It reminded me a lot of the meat found on pig’s feet, with the same chewy, gelatinous quality.
Xiao Long Bao - soup dumpling
Our waitress brought his over, along with soup soons. I was confused on eating technique and just popped the whole thing in my mouth and struggled not to let a boiling mouthful of soup and pork overcome my physical capacities. Definitely something you have to eat hot. The skin of these buns are unleavened, so they have a thinner, translucent quality.
Bao Bing - Shaved ice with toppings
Finally, dessert time. It said to choose 3 toppings, but the waitress just smiled and said she’d put everything on a large shaved ice for us. It arrived on an enormous platter, every bit as bizarrely and richly satisfying as I remember – kidney beans, mung beans, red beans, tapioca pearls, condensed milk, some kind of sweet syrup, soft, mealy peanuts, all haphazardly lobbed onto a fluffy, finely grated bed of ice.
A worthy finale to an adventurous meal.
Tapioca pearls, peanuts, other kinds of goodness
