This is the second addition to a miniseries about my first encounters with new and unfamiliar foods. Part 1, described the exotic foods I tried as a child and teenager. Now, we’ll see how I reacted to new or strange foods as an adult.

A reader provided feedback regarding how the first installment was too long and couldn’t be enjoyed in one sitting. I took that to heart and this article is now part 2 of a 3-part series.

Thanks for the advice!

Snail (aka escargot)

The first time I ate escargot was at Hollywood Café, in Montrose. I was about 18 or 19 and the place was nothing like it is today. Back then, the strip center was a high-end addition to the gayborhood. One end of the building was an internet café and gay book store, and the opposite side had a modern style Asian restaurant. There was a hair & nail salon in between both businesses, which has remained open to this day.

So, about that snail… It’s okay, but not my thing. The escargot was served on a plastic tray, which reminded me of the painting trays I used in art class at school. The tray had 6 wells filled with butter and a chewy snail.

I’ve eaten escargot at 5-star restaurants since then, and still don’t like it. I don’t like food with a lot of fatty oils. Not only is escargot oily, but it has enough salt to kill 20 snails.

Balut (Filipino Century Egg)

I worked as a CNA at a nursing home in my early 20s. While the team ate lunch, one of my coworkers described the traditional foods she missed from the Philippines. She was craving something called a “century egg” and described it as a fertilized and partially developed egg.

Most people in the break room were grossed out, but I wanted to try it and asked if she’d be willing to bring one to work.

A week or so later, I was cracking open a freshly cooked egg.

The first thing I noticed was the yolk. It wasn’t the yellow yolk we’ve all seen at the center of an egg prepared, sunny-side-up. It was still yellow, but misshapen and had blood vessels branching through it.

The next thing I noticed was the fetus. It had a huge black eye that was glazed over with a translucent eyelid. I could see a tiny beak and what looked like tiny, pre-formed feathers.

My coworker told me to slurp it down, and made a drinking motion with her hands.

1. I brought the egg to my lips and stared into the eye of the fetus. I sipped some of the juices and tasted the familiar flavor of chicken broth.
2. I tried the vascular egg yolk next. The bloody veins grossed me out, but it tasted just like an ordinary yolk in a hard-boiled egg.
3. And finally, the fetus entered my mouth. I chewed and chewed, and it tasted like chicken… but crunchy. The bones were soft and added a slight crunch to the meat.

Overall, the “century egg” almost tasted like chicken noodle soup. It was definitely an experience, but I probably won’t go out of my way to eat it again.

INJERA (Ethiopian Spongy Tortilla)

My boyfriend works with people from around the world, and regularly meets vendors for lunch and dinner. One of his vendors took him to a traditional Ethiopian restaurant one night. He loved the experience so much, he couldn’t stop talking about how we needed to plan a group outing to the restaurant.

We need at least 4 friends to come with us because the experience is wasted on just 2 people. The tables are huge and the banquet comes with a lot of food.

We made plans to meet a few friends from college at the restaurant. When we sat at the table, my boyfriend told everyone to put down their menus because he’s ordering for the table.

After ordering, my boyfriend described how we’re supposed to eat. He first pointed out how nobody at the table has silverware.

I looked at my napkin and noticed it was indeed missing cutlery.

He continued to explain that our table was missing utensils because we’re supposed to eat with our hands. The table will be served a huge plate of food and we’re going to use this special bread, injera, to scoop up and grab food from the plate.

Some of our friends squirmed uncomfortably in their seats. A few faces were pale with horror at the idea that we’d be sharing food without the safe medium of utensils.

A couple friends loudly declared their intentions to go wash their hands, so there’d be no doubt they had clean hands and they expected the same from the rest of the table.

Everyone at the table was watchful as we took turns going to the restroom before the food arrived.

The servers placed a huge circular platter at the center of our table, full of various meats, lentils, and vegetables. They also served each member of the party two coiled rolls of injera, and placed extra rolls around the table. My boyfriend showed us how to unroll the spongy bread and reached into the center of the platter to scoop out some food.

The injera looked like a tan sponge and tore apart easily. As I held it in my hand, I couldn’t help thinking of how it felt like a flimsy silicone oven mitt.

I tasted a small piece, and it was bland. It didn’t have any flavor, except for a slight saltiness.

I tore off a larger piece of injera and anxiously waited for my turn to reach into the communal platter. I watched as our friends struggled to balance the spongy bread as they reached for some food. A couple dropped their pieces and quickly tried to scoop up whichever food the sponge landed on, as though it was their target all along.

I somehow managed not to drop my piece of injera, or the food I targeted.

As we took turns sampling the Ethiopian cuisine, I noticed how richly spiced and seasoned the food was. I recognized how the bland injera didn’t distract from the flavorful food. In fact, the slight saltiness enhanced some of the flavors.

Conversations around the table started after we went around the table a couple times. The anxiety wore away and everyone in our party seemed comfortable with this new way of eating.

It was a unique experience.

I’d love to go back and try it again, but I fear that’s an unfulfillable wish. Most of our friends have busy lives and scheduling anything is difficult. Some are downright unreliable and tend to flake out minutes before scheduled meet-ups. And, in a world after Covid-19, communal dinners require a level of trust we’ll never truly get back.

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These were a few stories of my first encounters with exotic foods as a young adult. Next time, we’ll see how I reacted to new foods as I approached the midpoint of my life.