Dear Readers, I Apologize

Warning: The following entry may offend or disgust some readers. Proceed with caution.

      So the Fugu, or blow fish, didn't kill me. Am I stronger for it? I don't know...probably not. But in keeping with cuisine-themed entries, I'll discuss my latest and (not so) greatest adventure. Imagine an extremely small restaurant. Actually, restaurant isn't the right word...how about this, a small room attached to the kitchen of a Korean woman's apartment. There are only four tables, and in typical Korean fashion I take my shoes off at the door and sit cross-legged on the floor. I'm the only one there. I point to a picture of what appears to be grilled strips of meat on a bed of vegetable but the lady shakes her head in disagreement. She points to a bowl of soup but I really want the grilled meat. I reluctantly agree to the soup and begin to enjoy my many side dishes. I'm soon greeted by a scalding hot bowl of soup which I know better than to taste just yet. As I stir it gently and wait for it to cool, the Korean woman surprises me with a small plate of meat chunks on shards of broken bones. I suppose she could tell that I really wanted to try it and for her kindness, I was grateful. That feeling was soon short lived however. You see, I forgot to tell you that I was dining at a restaurant which only serves one thing...dog.

      I knew coming over here that I was going to try dog meat. When would this opportunity arise again? Might as well live in the moment. And I've eaten my fair share of odd animals. Things that Southerners don't necessarily consider strange but could be peculiar to the rest of the world such as turtle soup, fried frogs, raccoon gumbo, grilled oysters, alligator sauce picante, squirrel jambalaya, and fried garfish patties come to mind. I've even got friends from back home that won't eat some of those staples. And then in my brief worldly travels I've been able to sample horse steak, crocodile burgers, raw beef, antelope, ostrich, gazelle, and kangaroo steak. I've yet to bat an eyelash at the idea of experiencing any and all different foods. I honestly thought it'd be the same for dog.

      The bowl of soup didn't seem weird to me. Perhaps because the chunks of dog meat were mixed into a spicy broth with a hearty amount of vegetables. Everything changed once I was brought the plate of dog on the bone. There were several short bones, clearly having been broken, laid across some green onions with chunks of meat dangling from them. Dog meat is a perfectly disgusting blend of mushy fat surrounded by slimy cartilage. It has the look and smell of raw pig fat (I was reminded of the pork that my father uses in hog's head cheese before it is ground up) and is served pink and under cooked. At best, I can describe the taste as fatty, dark meat chicken mixed with gristly beef.

      For the first time, I experienced a hesitation while eating food. Guilt maybe? My conscience kicking in? I don't exactly know but it was very unsettling. I think the moment that really did it for me was when I realized that I was gnawing on the chopped up leg bones of a dog, eating scraps of meat and marrow as if I were a dog myself. It had a very cannibalistic feel to it. So after reading that I ask, "Would you like to try dog?" Me neither. But in one month I'll be visited by my brother Brandon and our friend Quentin so I'm going to assume that I'll be sitting cross-legged in a Korean woman's kitchen over a hot plate of dog one more time.