This is the final installment to the miniseries about my first encounters with new and unfamiliar foods. I’ve been so busy with my new job that months have passed since I published the first parts of this miniseries. To summarize:

• Part 1 – Describes the exotic foods I tried as a child and teenager.
• Part 2 – Covers my culinary discoveries as a young adult.

Now, let’s see how I reacted to new and different foods as I approached the midpoint of my life[1].

Frog Legs

Depending on where you’re from, frog legs could be considered “exotic.” I’ve always been curious about eating them, but they’re really hard to find at most high-end American restaurants (or any restaurant).

My boyfriend came home one evening and told me that he went to a business lunch at a restaurant with frog legs on the menu. He really wanted to order those frog legs, but couldn’t because it’s unprofessional to eat food like that during a business meeting. He was so thrilled at finding a restaurant that served frog legs, he decided we were going that same weekend.

We were so excited about those frog legs, we showed up that Saturday at 4 PM. We placed our order and joked about us eating dinner at “old people time.”

As we waited, I revealed that this is my first time eating frog legs.

My boyfriend couldn’t believe it. He ate them so often growing up, he assumed I did as well. He described how he’d go “frogging” around a pond at night to catch slimy frogs and skin them. His frogging escapades sounded gross, but I was too excited about eating something new to mind his stomach-turning stories.

That excitement faded when the waitress arrived with a plate of tiny human legs!

• The thighs and calves looked exactly like the legs of men at the gym.
• Their kneecaps looked just like the anatomy poster in my doctor’s office.
• The feet had fused toes, but still looked like they belonged to a human.
• They even had hips!
• The last thing I noticed was that both of my frogs had a flat ass.

I chuckled at how ridiculous I must look, staring in shock at my food. I went to that restaurant to eat frog legs, so I grabbed the first pair and…

I ate that frog’s ass!

I had a huge smile on my face, which prompted my boyfriend to say, “Wow! You must really like it.”

I couldn’t tell him the real reason why I was smiling so much, so I kept eating and moved from one calf to the next. I couldn’t bring myself to reveal my inner thoughts of how I just ate ass. Nor, could I openly admit how I named the frog, Kermit the Frog.

I still had that shit-eating grin on my face when I ate the next pair of frog legs.

Oh yeah. Frog legs taste like chicken.

Pickled Eggs

My boyfriend is from Louisiana and on a trip to see his family, he bought me a jar of pickled quail eggs. He thought I’d love them, but when he showed me the jar I recoiled in disgust.

The very idea of pickling an egg was disgusting. My face scrunched up like a sad raisin when he popped the mason jar open to impale a submerged egg with a fork. I thought he was joking when he handed me the fork loaded with an egg, but he encouraged me to eat it.

I sniffed it suspiciously and took a small bite.

I could see the hard-boiled yolk now, and sniffed it with even greater uncertainty. I couldn’t shake the feeling that the egg must have rotted in the jar and would make me sick. I already ate half of it and decided I’d better eat the whole thing.

The vinegar made it taste salty at first, but it had the same consistency and flavor as a regular hard-boiled egg. My boyfriend stabbed another egg, but the fork included one of the pickled jalapenos this time. I popped the whole egg and jalapeno into my mouth with one gulp. I noticed that in addition to the salty hard-boiled egg, the jalapeno added a very slight spiciness to it.

I liked it, but wasn’t going to pass judgement on it being a “good” food until I knew it wasn’t going to make me sick. After a few hours of normalcy and no digestive discomfort whatsoever, I decided that I liked pickled quail eggs.

I buy a jar of pickled eggs every time we travel to Louisiana. I like them so much, I learned how to pickle my own eggs.

There are a couple reasons why I wanted to learn how to make pickled eggs myself. I needed a cheaper way to eat them, but I also wanted to experiment with egg preservation methods for my survivalist blog. I did my research and made 2 jars. I ate one in December 2022, and ate the second jar over the next few months.

I’m glad to have been introduced to pickled eggs. Not only are they tasty, but I learned something new that may help me in the future.

Cumquats

I didn’t know cumquats existed before 2015. Actually, it was pure luck that I even learned of them at all.

I happened to walk past a friend’s cubicle at the right moment to see her eat what looked like a tiny orange. My coworker was facing away from the cubicle’s opening, so I snuck back to do a double-take. She had a plate full of what looked like baby oranges on her desk.

I watched with curious amazement as she grabbed another orange and popped it into her mouth. I never saw an orange that small before, and she ate the entire thing, skin and all…

Without peeling it!

I broke the silence to ask, “What are those things?! They look like tiny oranges.”

My coworker jumped out of her skin and clutched her chest. I quickly apologized for startling her and hoped I didn’t cause her to choke.

She caught her breath and said they’re cumquats.

I asked, “You eat them whole and don’t peel them?”

“Yes. Some people peel them, but most just eat the whole thing.”

She grabbed a cumquat and used a fingernail to peel part of the skin away. “See? The skin is very thin, so most people eat the entire fruit. Would you like to try one?”

“Sure!”

I looked at the cumquats and noticed that some were more orange in color than the others. I didn’t want my first experience with this new fruit to be bad, so I was hesitant to pick one at random.

So, I asked, “How do you tell which ones are ripe?”

“You can eat any of them, but some prefer the orange ones.”

She handed me two cumquats, one orange and the other yellow.

“Try the orange one.”

I sniffed it and immediately detected a familiar citrus aroma.

I popped the whole thing in my mouth and chewed. The tart juicy pulp was the first thing I noticed, but the flavor quickly sweetened as I chewed on it more.

I nodded and said it was good, before trying the yellow cumquat. This time, it was more tart than sweet. She said she’s eaten them all her life and can’t taste a difference between the colors.

She gave me a couple more cumquats to eat at my desk. I thanked her and scurried back to the relative privacy of my cubicle to do a more thorough taste-test. I noticed the skin was porous and had small orange specks, which appeared to be filled with tiny amounts of juice.

I put it in my mouth and noted how the flesh, beneath the skin, was mostly tart. The skin is what makes the fruit sweet. I also realized the seeds aren’t as intrusive or bitter as the seeds found in an orange.

I ate the other one and walked back to my coworker’s cubicle to ask where she got them. She shops at a grocery store in “China Town,” but they can be found at Central Market or Whole Foods.

On the trip home, I excitedly told my boyfriend about the new fruit I wanted him to try.

I’ve enjoyed those “tiny oranges” ever since that chance encounter in 2015.

***

These are all the exotic foods I’ve eaten, so far. I live in Houston, Texas and am exposed to cuisines from different cultures all the time. So much so, I no longer consider these new experiences with food to be exotic.

I don’t know if I’ll add a Part 4 or 5 to this miniseries later in life. Perhaps if I consume something truly exotic or unusual (to me), such as crickets, cockroach milk, or whatever else the world comes up with.

But, don’t hold your breath.

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[1] Midlife? According to the CDC, the average life expectancy of males in the USA is 73.2 years. That’s 73 years, 2 months, and 12 days. Midlife, according to that metric, is 36 ½ years of age. While I hope to be fit and healthy enough to live an active lifestyle past 100, let’s not be delusional. I’m probably going to live the average life-span… unless an accident happens, or I get murdered by some petty little snowflake who can’t tolerate a different opinion or point of view.