What is the most exotic and/or weirdest and/or most disgusting food you have ever eaten (or attempted to eat)? What were the circumstances that led to the consumption of this exotic/weird/disgusting food? And, how was it?
Let's see if we can get some participation from any of the Finnish/Swedish readers!
Relaxin' on the boat to Sweden!
Åsa, me, Eve, and Nicco
Åsa, me, Eve, and Nicco
This past Saturday the team traveled to Sweden for a match. We played pretty well and had some great moments in the game which showed that this team has a lot of potential to do well. We came away with a 1-1 tie. Our goal was scored from a perfectly-placed free kick by Eve. Mycket bra, Eve!
The Burrito of Champions
There is a quote which says,"Don't fear failure so much that you refuse to try new things. The saddest summary of a life contains three descriptions: could have, might have, and should have."
I have been told my entire life that I am just like my father, Dr. Bob Robison. My dad is a "seize the moment" type of guy, who is competitive, outgoing, impulsive, hardworking, and loves to have a good time. He is always willing to try something new. My dad and I are the type of people that need someone like my mom in our lives--someone that is sensible, prepared, and as much as we hate to admit it, usually right. My three brothers and I all seemed to inherit the competitive gene from my dad. Whether we are playing soccer, basketball, football, wrestling, arm-wrestling, chess, Scrabble, Texas hold 'em, Risk, Trivial Pursuit, Kentucky golf, charades, or going fishing, each of us is full of determination to be victorious. Upon completion of any of these said competitions, the winner in my family (except for my mother, who is actually a gracious winner) is likely stand up and proceed into the Bob Robison victory dance, which entails getting in the face of the loser, making an obnoxious "Woooooo" sound, moving pointed fingers back and forth, and shaking the ass.
The point is, if you challenge us to something, we accept. This is how I have found myself the catcher of at least 4 different wedding bouquets. Trust me, I'm in no rush to get married, but there's just something glorious about beating those other girls to the bushel of flowers flying through the air.
It is with this competitive attitude and willingness to try new things that I found myself eating the most disgusting combination of foods I have ever tried.
So far I have been very pleased with all the food I have eaten in Åland. I mentioned in my last entry the deliciousness of the school lunch. But, in contrast, on our team trip to Sweden, I encountered a meal which absolutely must be discussed. After our game on Saturday, we were on our way to watch a match between two teams from the highest league in Sweden (side note: these teams were stacked with national players from Sweden, Germany, Australia, and more. They were amazing.). Since we would not be eating again until hours later when we would board the boat back to Åland, we stopped at a fast-food restaurant for a quick bite. Granted, perhaps I shouldn't judge all Swedish foods through the representation of a fast-food restaurant. If someone were to come to America only to taste the fine cuisine from White Castle or Taco Bell, I'd like to think he or she could have experienced some better options from our nation's menu. So, Sweden, I may be willing to give you another chance. But for now, my friends from the mainland of Finland will be happy to hear me ask, "Sweden, what were you thinking?"
I walked into the tiny restaurant which was bustling with seemingly-happy consumers. I looked up at the lighted menu hanging above the counter to find Swedish descriptions accompanied by pictures. Unfortunately for me, I had just taken out my dried-up daily contacts that I mainly wear for playing soccer. So, though I could see enough of the pictures to know that I had the option of eating one of many hamburger-looking-things or one of many burrito-looking-things, I was unable to distinguish what exactly came with each. I looked at Lena, our team's physical trainer, to ask her what was on Burrito #7.
"Uh, it says shrimp salad," she responded. "You like shrimp salad?"
Sure. Shrimp salad (like your typical eggs and mayonnaise chicken salad, but with shrimp) was the first thing I ate when I came to Åland. It's pretty good. It's not exactly what comes to mind when I hear "burrito," but whatever.
"Yeah Lena, I'll take Number Sjua."
Because I don't speak Swedish, Lena ordered for the both of us. And then she stepped outside of the restaurant to talk to my coach while I waited for our food to be prepared. I watched the woman who took our orders begin on Lena's meal. Apparently Lena had ordered one of the burrito options as well. The woman spread the burrito tortilla on the counter and readied some lettuce, onions, and tomatoes by placing them near by. No shock here. These are all normal burrito ingredients. Next, she scooped three heaping helpings of a thick, pink substance that I took to be shrimp salad onto the tortilla.
Oh, maybe this is mine, not Lena's.
But this thought quickly disappeared at the lady's next move, when she dug another spoon deep into a bucket and pulled out to reveal, much to my surprise, an impressive scoop of gloppy mashed potatoes. She then slapped it upon the meal.
What the...??? Mashed potatoes?! With shrimp salad?! Okay, that's not mine.
Two more shovels of mashed potatoes joined the shrimp salad on the tortilla, which was becoming quite crowded. She threw on the vegetables to make what I assumed would be a completed burrito. But wait...she wasn't done. What is one more additive that could make this already-curious combination the perfect and ingenious invention of a meal? Maybe some sort of sauce or condiment? Perhaps a sprinkling of minced nuts to give it a little crunch?
No. Ladies and gentleman, what this burrito needed was a hot dog.
I'm not kidding.
She laid a footlong hot dog on top of the goulash, then mushed it all together as she wrapped the burrito and covered it in foil. Ding! Finished!
Shocked at what I had just seen, I poked my head out the door. "Lena, what did you order?" I asked incredulously. "Anyways, I think it's ready."
Lena's response: "I didn't order anything. I only ordered for you."
Oh no.
I looked around. The rest of my teammates weren't claiming it. I squinted up at the menu to look at the picture that coincided with Burrito #7. Oh my. There is was. I hadn't seen it before. Sure enough, I had missed the skinny, rounded tip of a hot dog poking out the end of this poster child for the weirdest burrito ever made. Ugh...
I considered my situation: tortilla, lettuce, onions, tomatoes, shrimp salad, mashed potatoes, hot dog. Each of these can be enjoyable--when served alone. Mashed potatoes are excellent on Thanksgiving. A hot dog is perfect at a ball game. But together? Wow. But I was starving. I'd just played 90 minutes of soccer and we weren't eating again for a couple of hours. Plus, I didn't want to come off as picky or wasteful or as though I thought of myself as too good for the hot dog-mashed potatoes-shrimp salad burrito.
I claimed it.
I walked outside, phenomenon in hand, and mentioned to my coach Ubbe that I had never seen a burrito with a hot dog before. He sensed the skepticism in my voice, and said, "No, it's good! Come on, I thought you were a risk-taker! You have to try it!"
That's it. He challenged me. I had no choice. And before I could stop myself, I blurted, "I am a risk-taker. I'll eat the whole thing."
(Insert foot in mouth)
Instead, I had to insert the first bite of the burrito freak show. I pulled down the top-half of the foil and went straight for the money-bite, getting some hot dog, some mashed potatoes, some shrimp salad, and some veggies all at once to be sure to experience the full flavor this burrito had to offer. I was afraid, but part of me thought that maybe there's something magical that happens when these foods come together. Maybe there's a chance that for some reason it's really, really good.
Nope.
I gagged.
Then spit the bite in the trash can.
It wasn't even the mashed potato-onion-tomato-shrimp salad combo that got me. It was the key ingredient of the rubbery hot dog that I couldn't handle. It had to go.
"Ubbe, this is disgusting," I grimaced. "I can't have this hot dog in here. It's already weird enough. You want the hot dog?"
"Oh yeah, I'll take it," Ubbe said as he walked toward me.
"Sorry, I already bit it," I mumbled as I grabbed the butchered end of the hot dog and attempted to pull it from the burrito. Problem. It was stuck. Probably suctioned down with great force from the sticky mess within. I wiggled it around. No dice.
"Um. I can't get it," I said and I looked at Ubbe. For some reason, I then held out my burrito in a 'you want to try?' gesture.
The next thing I knew, Ubbe was knuckle-deep in my burrito, attempting to wrestle the hot dog from the obstinate grip of mashed potatoes and shrimp salad. A small crowd of my teammates began to gather round as the mixture started to ooze through fissures in the burrito's thin shell. I looked up at Ubbe again and I think we both realized how ludicrous this situation was. He pulled his fingers out, sans hot dog, and apologized. I laughed.
But now, the hot dog had challenged me too. It was coming out, dammit, and I was going to eat that burrito like I said I would. I went back into the burrito, managed a steady handle on the hot dog, and pulled--nice, and slow. I heard an "ew" from one of my teammates.
"I got it! I got it out!" I said proudly.
"Ha!" laughed Ubbe, taking the hot dog in hand. "It's a girl!"
That's funny, if I had to choose a sex for a hot dog it would have been a boy...wait, what am I saying?
Comparing the removal of a hot dog from my burrito to the miracle of life did not increase its edible appeal.
But, as promised, I ate it. Right down to the last horrible bite of sloppy tortilla. It was disgusting, and my stomach still hadn't recovered the next day, and I still get the chills when I think about that first bite, but it was all worth it. My friend Elise likes to say, "Do it for the story," encouraging ridiculous and spontaneous behavior simply for the fact that recounting the ridiculous and spontaneous behavior makes it all worthwhile. Imagine if I hadn't eaten that burrito of champions. I would have no material for my blog!
I will always try new things, at least once. Sometimes this leads to regret, but it's better than the regret of never trying at all.
What about you, reader? What interesting food did you dare try?
The Burrito of Champions
There is a quote which says,"Don't fear failure so much that you refuse to try new things. The saddest summary of a life contains three descriptions: could have, might have, and should have."
I have been told my entire life that I am just like my father, Dr. Bob Robison. My dad is a "seize the moment" type of guy, who is competitive, outgoing, impulsive, hardworking, and loves to have a good time. He is always willing to try something new. My dad and I are the type of people that need someone like my mom in our lives--someone that is sensible, prepared, and as much as we hate to admit it, usually right. My three brothers and I all seemed to inherit the competitive gene from my dad. Whether we are playing soccer, basketball, football, wrestling, arm-wrestling, chess, Scrabble, Texas hold 'em, Risk, Trivial Pursuit, Kentucky golf, charades, or going fishing, each of us is full of determination to be victorious. Upon completion of any of these said competitions, the winner in my family (except for my mother, who is actually a gracious winner) is likely stand up and proceed into the Bob Robison victory dance, which entails getting in the face of the loser, making an obnoxious "Woooooo" sound, moving pointed fingers back and forth, and shaking the ass.
The point is, if you challenge us to something, we accept. This is how I have found myself the catcher of at least 4 different wedding bouquets. Trust me, I'm in no rush to get married, but there's just something glorious about beating those other girls to the bushel of flowers flying through the air.
It is with this competitive attitude and willingness to try new things that I found myself eating the most disgusting combination of foods I have ever tried.
So far I have been very pleased with all the food I have eaten in Åland. I mentioned in my last entry the deliciousness of the school lunch. But, in contrast, on our team trip to Sweden, I encountered a meal which absolutely must be discussed. After our game on Saturday, we were on our way to watch a match between two teams from the highest league in Sweden (side note: these teams were stacked with national players from Sweden, Germany, Australia, and more. They were amazing.). Since we would not be eating again until hours later when we would board the boat back to Åland, we stopped at a fast-food restaurant for a quick bite. Granted, perhaps I shouldn't judge all Swedish foods through the representation of a fast-food restaurant. If someone were to come to America only to taste the fine cuisine from White Castle or Taco Bell, I'd like to think he or she could have experienced some better options from our nation's menu. So, Sweden, I may be willing to give you another chance. But for now, my friends from the mainland of Finland will be happy to hear me ask, "Sweden, what were you thinking?"
I walked into the tiny restaurant which was bustling with seemingly-happy consumers. I looked up at the lighted menu hanging above the counter to find Swedish descriptions accompanied by pictures. Unfortunately for me, I had just taken out my dried-up daily contacts that I mainly wear for playing soccer. So, though I could see enough of the pictures to know that I had the option of eating one of many hamburger-looking-things or one of many burrito-looking-things, I was unable to distinguish what exactly came with each. I looked at Lena, our team's physical trainer, to ask her what was on Burrito #7.
"Uh, it says shrimp salad," she responded. "You like shrimp salad?"
Sure. Shrimp salad (like your typical eggs and mayonnaise chicken salad, but with shrimp) was the first thing I ate when I came to Åland. It's pretty good. It's not exactly what comes to mind when I hear "burrito," but whatever.
"Yeah Lena, I'll take Number Sjua."
Because I don't speak Swedish, Lena ordered for the both of us. And then she stepped outside of the restaurant to talk to my coach while I waited for our food to be prepared. I watched the woman who took our orders begin on Lena's meal. Apparently Lena had ordered one of the burrito options as well. The woman spread the burrito tortilla on the counter and readied some lettuce, onions, and tomatoes by placing them near by. No shock here. These are all normal burrito ingredients. Next, she scooped three heaping helpings of a thick, pink substance that I took to be shrimp salad onto the tortilla.
Oh, maybe this is mine, not Lena's.
But this thought quickly disappeared at the lady's next move, when she dug another spoon deep into a bucket and pulled out to reveal, much to my surprise, an impressive scoop of gloppy mashed potatoes. She then slapped it upon the meal.
What the...??? Mashed potatoes?! With shrimp salad?! Okay, that's not mine.
Two more shovels of mashed potatoes joined the shrimp salad on the tortilla, which was becoming quite crowded. She threw on the vegetables to make what I assumed would be a completed burrito. But wait...she wasn't done. What is one more additive that could make this already-curious combination the perfect and ingenious invention of a meal? Maybe some sort of sauce or condiment? Perhaps a sprinkling of minced nuts to give it a little crunch?
No. Ladies and gentleman, what this burrito needed was a hot dog.
I'm not kidding.
She laid a footlong hot dog on top of the goulash, then mushed it all together as she wrapped the burrito and covered it in foil. Ding! Finished!
Shocked at what I had just seen, I poked my head out the door. "Lena, what did you order?" I asked incredulously. "Anyways, I think it's ready."
Lena's response: "I didn't order anything. I only ordered for you."
Oh no.
I looked around. The rest of my teammates weren't claiming it. I squinted up at the menu to look at the picture that coincided with Burrito #7. Oh my. There is was. I hadn't seen it before. Sure enough, I had missed the skinny, rounded tip of a hot dog poking out the end of this poster child for the weirdest burrito ever made. Ugh...
I considered my situation: tortilla, lettuce, onions, tomatoes, shrimp salad, mashed potatoes, hot dog. Each of these can be enjoyable--when served alone. Mashed potatoes are excellent on Thanksgiving. A hot dog is perfect at a ball game. But together? Wow. But I was starving. I'd just played 90 minutes of soccer and we weren't eating again for a couple of hours. Plus, I didn't want to come off as picky or wasteful or as though I thought of myself as too good for the hot dog-mashed potatoes-shrimp salad burrito.
I claimed it.
I walked outside, phenomenon in hand, and mentioned to my coach Ubbe that I had never seen a burrito with a hot dog before. He sensed the skepticism in my voice, and said, "No, it's good! Come on, I thought you were a risk-taker! You have to try it!"
That's it. He challenged me. I had no choice. And before I could stop myself, I blurted, "I am a risk-taker. I'll eat the whole thing."
(Insert foot in mouth)
Instead, I had to insert the first bite of the burrito freak show. I pulled down the top-half of the foil and went straight for the money-bite, getting some hot dog, some mashed potatoes, some shrimp salad, and some veggies all at once to be sure to experience the full flavor this burrito had to offer. I was afraid, but part of me thought that maybe there's something magical that happens when these foods come together. Maybe there's a chance that for some reason it's really, really good.
Nope.
I gagged.
Then spit the bite in the trash can.
It wasn't even the mashed potato-onion-tomato-shrimp salad combo that got me. It was the key ingredient of the rubbery hot dog that I couldn't handle. It had to go.
"Ubbe, this is disgusting," I grimaced. "I can't have this hot dog in here. It's already weird enough. You want the hot dog?"
"Oh yeah, I'll take it," Ubbe said as he walked toward me.
"Sorry, I already bit it," I mumbled as I grabbed the butchered end of the hot dog and attempted to pull it from the burrito. Problem. It was stuck. Probably suctioned down with great force from the sticky mess within. I wiggled it around. No dice.
"Um. I can't get it," I said and I looked at Ubbe. For some reason, I then held out my burrito in a 'you want to try?' gesture.
The next thing I knew, Ubbe was knuckle-deep in my burrito, attempting to wrestle the hot dog from the obstinate grip of mashed potatoes and shrimp salad. A small crowd of my teammates began to gather round as the mixture started to ooze through fissures in the burrito's thin shell. I looked up at Ubbe again and I think we both realized how ludicrous this situation was. He pulled his fingers out, sans hot dog, and apologized. I laughed.
But now, the hot dog had challenged me too. It was coming out, dammit, and I was going to eat that burrito like I said I would. I went back into the burrito, managed a steady handle on the hot dog, and pulled--nice, and slow. I heard an "ew" from one of my teammates.
"I got it! I got it out!" I said proudly.
"Ha!" laughed Ubbe, taking the hot dog in hand. "It's a girl!"
That's funny, if I had to choose a sex for a hot dog it would have been a boy...wait, what am I saying?
Comparing the removal of a hot dog from my burrito to the miracle of life did not increase its edible appeal.
But, as promised, I ate it. Right down to the last horrible bite of sloppy tortilla. It was disgusting, and my stomach still hadn't recovered the next day, and I still get the chills when I think about that first bite, but it was all worth it. My friend Elise likes to say, "Do it for the story," encouraging ridiculous and spontaneous behavior simply for the fact that recounting the ridiculous and spontaneous behavior makes it all worthwhile. Imagine if I hadn't eaten that burrito of champions. I would have no material for my blog!
I will always try new things, at least once. Sometimes this leads to regret, but it's better than the regret of never trying at all.
What about you, reader? What interesting food did you dare try?
17 comments:
Applebee's House Sirloin. Worst. "Steak." Ever.
Also a general comment:
"Hey, do you wanna turn around?"
Wow. That sounds positively hideous. Pink paste? Hot dog? Mashed potatoes? No wonder I have never heard of a Swedish restaurant.
Your post reminded me of a number of things. So this may be a little long.
1. When we lived in Saudi Arabia, Taco Bell made a foray into the Gulf Region. The menu items came with instructions. For "Burrito" it said," Eat it like a banana, but you can eat the skin!" This was bizarre and made me feel very far from Texas.
2. In Argentina, they eat a sausage called morsilla. They love it. They go nuts for it. My thesis advisor encouraged me to try it but stopped short of telling me what it was until I took a glorious, pasty bite. My teeth stained with a dark maroon colored (but tasty) smear of something-or-other, she explained to me that it was fried pig's blood with seasoning wrapped in a sausage casing. Glory day.
3. Also in Argentina, cow's brain. Not much else to say. I had it with the morsilla. What did I have to lose? It wasn't bad, but I probably have Mad Cow's disease now...or Mad Human's disease...or whatever it's called.
4. Back to Saudi. I helped to eat a whole, roasted goat (replete with burnt hair, teeth, and eye balls) splayed out on a bed of rice. Actually really good, but the presentation was a little macabre.
5. Frog's legs. They DO NOT taste like chicken. They taste like off fish and pond water.
I'm sure there's more -probably something that found its way into my burger at dirty fast food restaurant I don't even know about- but that's what sprang to mind. Your spirit of adventure is admirable, just try not to let it lead you to a day by the toilet :)!
Wow, Doug! That's an impressive list. Fried pig's blood? Whole, roasted goat? And you tried cow's brain? Does that mean you would rather have Mad Cow's disease than be the top scientist in your field?
On 26th of July you can enjoy the morsilla. Locally it's called mustamakkara.
Ask and ye shall receive! 26th of July! I bet you can't wait! Coincidentally, the 26th if July is a major date in Cuban history. It marks the attack (failed attack) on the Moncada barracks and became the name of Fidel's movement. See what you learn just by knowing me!? But I digress.
And yes, I would rather have Mad Cow's disease as I am not a scientist...and I would also eat myself if I were a hot dog...and if the moon were made of BBQ spare ribs, I would eat it too.
Thanks for the comment (Mr./Mrs./Miss) Beck! And why will I be enjoying mustamakkara on the 26th of July? Is it because this is the date of a Finnish holiday on which this delicacy is served? Or is it because on this day a seemingly totally-unrelated event occurred in Cuban history and now it is for some reason recognized by Finns with mustamakkara? :) Or is this when we will be playing in your Finnish town? Are you bringing some to the game!? Whatever the reason, ok, I'll put it in my calender. The 26th of July: Try fried pig's blood. I mean, if it's being served around the world in places like Argentina and Finland, it must be good, right? :) :)
For all readers: Haha. I noticed I originally misspelled Oscar Mayer. This is pathetic, considering there is a song which clearly tells us how it is properly spelled. "My bologna has a first name, it's O-S-C-A-R, my bologna has a second name, it's M-"...apparently this is where I stopped listening.
Keep the responses coming, people!! I love 'em!
Hahaha oh man.. thank you for rescuing me from boredom at work with that! That was extremely adventurous of you.. keep these stories coming! As for my food adventures, I don't think I've eaten anything too ridiculous, although, let's get honest, I've probably eaten some questionable things at Taco Bell that I really don't remember.
PS - I loved every second of that video you sent me!
I was waiting for your next post... well worth it. great story about the burrito. i've eaten dad's version of chicken noodle soup, or, chicken noodle "plop," as we called it. at school i once ate a taco bell soft shell taco that had been sitting in the open for 2 or 3 days, against the reservations of my roommates - it was a little crusty but i enjoyed it. also have found plenty of food with hairs, staples, or other unidentified crustiness which I've eaten around. guess you could say i'm not a picky eater.
john meyer
Yay! More comments! You guys are crackin me up!!
V-Card- Yes, you're right, lord knows what we have eaten at one of our many late-night stops at Taco Bell on the way home from the campus bars. Of course, anything eaten within the parameters of the the Taco Bell Library is automatically delicious and sacred, so we might actually be safe...
Aaron- Hahaha omg I forgot about chicken-noodle "plop." Also, would it be safe to say that the cheese on the crusty taco you ate was old and moldy? And you really ate foods that you would describe as having "unidentified crustiness?" SICK. Haha. John Meyer. I've actually misspelled his name as John Mayor before...
Doug- Okay, if you were a hot dog, and you were starving, you would eat yourself. But what if you weren't smothered in brown mustard and relish but instead in mashed potatoes and shrimp salad? Then would you eat yourself? Don't jerk me around, Norm! It's a simple question! A baby could answer it!
At first I was hesitant to add something because it would be lame, but then I remembered something I have tried to block out of my memory. One of my friends Dad's works for a Japenese company and has introduced me to a lot of different foods. Most I can handle, I don't always get more, but I can handle the taste, but there was one time where it involved raw dead fish about the size of minnows, and one started to move around in my mouth as I tried not to gag and washed it down immediately with Coke.
I can't do movement.
Bec, I can't touch the nasty burrito. At Ball State I took a huge bite of what I thought was mystery meat and it turned out to be liver that I totally hate. I immediately regurgitated the partially digested bolus to the dismay of my mates. I have encountered less that desirable eating ambience. Years ago I forced your mother to hike Isle Royal in Lake Superior. One night we had to boil water from a stream for our food and found out the next day that the water was contaminated by a healthy pile of moose dung. On another trip with young Ben and Aaron (you were but a mere twinkle) we stopped at a Waffle House for breakfast. Just as they brought our food, a sick person ran in attempting to get to the bathroom hurled all over the floor and wall near our table. We moved to anoher table, but since we were on a budget I made everyone eat their food to the sweet aroma of fresh vomitous. That's all I've got. Dad
OK, I finally came up with an answer. You might remember this one. We were on vacation in the Cayman Islands. We took a trip to Stingray City. The captain of the boat dropped anchor just outside the sandbar and let us dive for conch. A conch is a large saltwater snail (in a beautiful shell). When we brought them back onboard, the captain proceeded to cut the slimy things out of the shell and chop them up so we could feed them to the stingray. The stingray loved them. Anyways, your father thought they would be delicious for human consumption. Now they are served in all the local restaurants there, and if prepared correctly, they can be delicious. However, the catch words here are "prepared correctly". They were not very good.
By the way, I loved this entry into the blog. It was hilarious! Keep them coming.
the weirdrest thing i ever ate was turkey fries they asked me if i wanted a fried chicken liver and i took it and found out later it was pig nut's wasn't bad tasted like chicken grandma w.......lol
OK, it wasn't supposed to be a riddle, but here's the answer.
It has nothing to do with Cuba (I guess). On July, 26th you will be in Tampere for a game. Tampere is the hometown of mustamakkara. You can enjoy it with lingonberry jam.
I admit, it doesn't sound very tempting. BTW the most disgusting thing I have eaten was cows throut and beans in sauce that looked like a mix of blood and ketchup.
(Mr)
Grandma- Yay! My mom said you were trying to figure out how to post on my blog. I'm glad you did! Pig's nuts!? Wow. No thank you! Haha! :)
Mom- Of course I remember the conch! It was terrible! I guess humans and stingray don't share the same taste in food...
Dad- Do you notice that a lot of the posts on here deal with things you made people eat? The conch, chicken noodle plop, the moose-dung water, and the pukey waffle-house breakfast...haha. They all sounded like a good idea at the time, right?
Benny- Wow, live minnow. I can't believe you still swallowed it! I would have immediately spit that out. PS- thanks again for the "serenade" that other night. Haha.
Mr. Beck- Wow, a mix of blood and ketchup? That sounds terrible. I think I'll stick with the mustamakkara. :)
When I lived in the fraternity house our cook used to make perogies. They are basically like pasta shells only they aren't filled with sauce or cheese, but with mashed potato. Tasted like, I don't know, rubbery blandness. Not as gross as your story, but I sure avoided those after the first experience.
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