Bizarre Foods

In the three weeks I had leading up to coming to Ecuador I found myself watching a lot of the Travel Channel. Specifically, Bizarre Foods with Andrew Zimmern. For those of you who are not familiar with the show, Andrew Zimmern, a native Minnesotan (represent!), travels all over the world in search of the most unusual edible things he can find. Often, when dinner time rolls around, and a steaming plate of something new and unrecognizable is placed in front of me, my stomach begs me to politely decline and sprint for the emergency Ritz crackers I have hidden in my top dresser drawer. But before I can even reach for the plate my brain takes over and asks my stomach, “hey, what would Andrew Zimmern do?” While all of this is going on, the rest of the family quietly begins to eat their meal. And while trying not to stare, they watch me out of the corner of their eyes as I smile and take the first bite.

Most of the time, its not the taste of the food that turns me off, it’s the thought of exactly what I’m eating. I found this to be especially true the night I got home from training and my host mother was making sheep stew.
“What are you cooking?”
“Sheep.”
“Oh, really?”
“Yes, have you tried it before?”
“No, never.”
“Don’t worry, I’m making it into a stew.”
I smiled at her and walked to my room to put my stuff away. My brain and stomach began to argue.
“No way. No. Way.”
“Dude, its just sheep. Its like lamb.”
“Whatever, we pet those sheep today. I’m not eating it.”
“Oh come on, what would Andrew Zimmern do?”
My stomach had no rebuttal.
I walked into the kitchen and took my place at the table. With a fork, I stabbed a chunk of sheep, lifted it to my mouth, quickly chewed and swallowed. I was surprised at how much: A) I enjoyed it and B) It tasted like beef. Conversation that night surrounded the death of Michael Jackson as the children asked me whether or not I knew him personally and Angel tried to convince Rubi that his ghost now haunted Northern Ecuador.

The next day, our very pregnant cow, Emilia*, finally gave birth to a beautiful baby boy. That night I got home and saw Carmen, my host mother, stirring a pot of a thick yellow substance.
“Whats that?” I asked.
“Calostro.” She replied.
“Hmm…whats calostro?”
“Well you know how that cow had her baby, right?”
I did not like where this was going.
“Yeah?”
“Ok, well calstro is what comes out after the baby, but before the milk.”
I had heard enough, but she continued.
“It is very special for us because we can only have it when a cow gives birth.”
She had to add that didn’t she? She asked me if I would try it.
“Oh, of course!” I replied.
Damnit. I don’t even drink milk, let alone baby birth substances. I sat down and my host mother handed me a large, steaming cup of calostro. I started to panic. I thought of Andrew Zimmern’s closing monologue and how he ended every episode with, “…and remember, if it looks good, eat it!” This, however, did NOT look good. Andrew couldn’t even help me now. I grabbed a spoon and scooped up some calostro. Everybody else dug in. I just sat there.
“You don’t have t eat it if you don’t want.”
“No, no, its just really hot.” I lied.
I ate the spoonful. It was sweet and warm and curdley and thick all at the same time. I got two more bites down before I had to throw in the towel. Once everyone had finished eating, I snuck outside and offered the rest of my calostro to the dogs, who happily accepted.

Whenever we eat something new, I usually take the time to watch everybody else’s mannerisms and then try to follow suit. The night we had salmon was the first time an entire fried fish had been placed in front of me - ever. Skin, eyeballs, little fins, everything. I was unsure where to start so I tried to eat my salad and nonchalantly watch Angel across the table to see what to do with the fish. He, very skillfully, opened the fish with his fork and pulled the meat from its spine and little ribs. I began to do the same. Soon only the salmon head was left on my plate. I looked around the table and noticed that everybody else was well on their way to finishing their salmon heads, eyeballs and all. I looked at my salmon head. It looked at me. I looked over at Rubi, who had finished hers and was now eyeing my plate. I stabbed the head with my fork and thought about its little brain, eyes, and teeth. I couldn’t do it. Rubi, however, had a taste for salmon heads and seemed to be patiently waiting for me to offer her mine. I moved it to her plate and she happily chowed down. I was satisfied not to have to resort to the dogs.

Other “bizarre” foods I have eaten so far include: cow intestines, guinea pig, and cow stomach. I have only been here for a little over two weeks now so you (and I) can imagine the possibilities.


p.s. To this day I am not exactly sure what calostro is. Feel free to share if you do.

*Names have been changed.