Horror food

Readers of this blog often comment how adventurous I am. While it’s true that I like to push my culinary boundaries, I have my limits.

Just in case you think I recklessly eat every weird thing that comes my way, I thought I’d share a few horrors that are well down my ‘to eat’ list - such as this offering that I spotted this in a local Chinese cafe yesterday.  I suspect I may get around to trying it one day just for the hell of it.  

This product range really amuses me. Someone has gone to a lot of trouble to design cheerful packaging that belies the horrors within. What’s even funnier is that it’s all labelled in English even though, apart from a few weirdos like me, most native English speakers would recoil at the thought of eating duck icky bits.



A foodie friend recently invited us over for dinner and, when I asked what he’d like us to bring, he replied “scare us”, so off I toddled to the shop selling the abovementioned duck bits.

Sauced, semi-dried duck tongue.

Given that he lived in Hong Kong for many years, and his wife is Hong Kong Chinese, I should have known better than to present them with this lame attempt at horror food.

They hoovered them up without a blink and offered to cook me some freshly prepared ones some day.

I’ve cheated a bit with this example, because I ended up eating a couple of the duck tongues. They’re ok.

Pig spine soup (spotted on the menu of a Korean restaurant in Queen Street).  As much as I admire this restaurant’s pragmatic honesty, I don’t like pork and the dish’s main ingredient is spine. What more can I say?

The other night I heard Kieran coughing and spluttering out in the kitchen, followed by the tap running hard. It transpired he’d gone to make vegemite toast and, in his rush to satisfy his hunger, had grabbed the first jar he saw with a yellow and red label. Poor lad; this sambal is seriously HOT.

The Chinese may have cornered the horror food market, but Stutz burger bar in Ohakune is giving them a run for their money.

My husband and kids reckoned their burgers are the worst they’ve ever tried. As for Stutz’s garlic chips, even my greaseaholic family was flummoxed by this soggy garlic butter topped nightmare.

They offered me some, and I was tempted to kill off my arteries and try them just so I could regale you with how ghastly they were. But my nerves failed and I simply couldn’t bring myself to do it.

Gluten-free glue

I'm currently experimenting with a gluten-free diet. That is, when I'm not eating gluten-infested food.

I'll spare you the digestive details behind my decision to try going gluten-free, other than to say the issues were sufficiently annoying for me to try taking this step. The reason I suspect gluten as the culprit, rather than something else, is because in recent years I've noticed that I feel unwell if I eat bread more than once a day. For some reason cake binges don't seem to have the same effect (so the problem might not be a gluten intolerance after all).

It's possible to bake some passable cakes using ground nuts instead of wheat flour so I surmised it must also be possible to make a gluten-free steamed pudding. My first attempt one recent cold evening tasted great but looken incredibly insipid and had a dense, very rubbery texture.
"It's just like a dish sponge," hubby and kids pronounced. And I had to agree. Not even copious quantities of custard could hide the awful rubbery truth.

The dish sponge texture was hardly surprising, given I'd made it using smooth ultra-white flours such as tapioca, rice and potato flours. Maybe it just needed some texture from ground almonds? So I gave everyone enough time to recover from the horrors of Round One, then made a chocolate version that included a cup of ground almonds.

It wasn't quite so dish spongy this time round. But it still wasn't great. The left overs sat, studiously ignored, in the fridge until today. Curious as to its sticking power, I tried a few gluten-free steamed pudding experiments.

Experiment one:














Experiment two:

Although I've largely been good at avoiding foods containing gluten, self-denial has never been one of my stronger suites. As a result, I've fallen off the wagon several times over the past few days.

I'm back on it again but I don't hold out much hope for sticking (pardon the pun) to my gluten-free regime the next time I feel like having a steamed pudding for dessert.

Fear factor food

After she'd offloaded the chokos yesterday, Lily proffered another gift: home-made fermented tofu.

She prefaced the offering with a comment that many Chinese people find it a bit much (!) but she brought me some because she knows I like to try new things. Gingerly, I lifted the lid off and took a sniff: several scatological descriptors came to mind.

Fermented tofu is made by dicing plain tofu and leaving it to fester at room temperature for several weeks. Once it has grown legs, then refrigerate it and leave it to mature. Apparently it gets better with keeping.

I have eaten commercial fermented bean curd on many occasions, but it's preserved in a chillied brine and has quite a different appearance and aroma to Lily's version.

Lily's fermented tofu

Commercial fermented tofu in chilli brine

I had a wee taste yesterday and it was strong, but edible. Today I slathered a whole lot on a cracker and can report that its taste (and smell) has rounded out a lot over night. It's studded with chilli, so is hot, but is nowhere near as salty as the commercial variety. To my surprise, it had a lovely creamy texture.

Nice. But I think I'd better go and brush my teeth now.

A weird and wonderful week

On Friday evening it dawned on me that my week-long 'never before eaten' challenge was over.

What a weird and wonderful week it has been. My mother thought my challenge was a really naff idea and couldn't figure out why I'd want to do such a "stupid thing". Call me contrary if you will, but I've loved (almost) every moment of it.

The week's highlights included:

• The challenge itself. I love new experiences and I love food. What more can I say.
• Sichuan food, even if we did potentially dice with death (or at least a dose of food poisoning) in the process.
• Being brave enough to eat chickens' paws, after decades of avoiding them. They're actually okay, if one avoids thinking about chicken leg skin. I'll eat them again.
• Watching the cat flee from the turkey spam (sorry Phoebe). See, I told you it was awful. And yes, I did give her something else for dinner that night.

Low points included:

• The flaccid, disappointing Indian lunch on the final day. I felt queasy all afternoon.
• My turkey spam, canned carrot, energy drink and chocolate breakfast cereal lunch. Ditto.
• Recurring thoughts of goat brain curry masala.

Perhaps the best outcome is that I've discovered that I enjoy blogging. I'll continue trying new food experiences, albeit less regularly than daily, so keep tuning in for the latest in Anna's Food Safari!

Desperate measures

I'd been going great guns with this challenge, until today. The challenge has been fun, but it is time consuming. First one has to decide which food to try, then it needs to be sourced (unless it's in one of my food collection piles). And it may even need to be prepared. Then photographed and consumed.

Work and other commitments got in the way and, before I knew it, it was 9.30 pm and I hadn't tried anything new for the day.

Desperate times call for desperate measures.

I rummaged through the fridge and pantries, but couldn't find anything I hadn't tried, or that didn't require any preparation, until I discovered a six-year-old box of herbal tea bags pushed to the back of a shelf.

I don't like herbal tea. I like coffee. If I'm feeling righteous, I sometimes drink green tea, and may even drink English breakfast tea at a push.

The only reason I have herbal tea is for visitors. Given that only about five of the 10 "Lipton Herbal Infusions caffeine free cranberry, raspberry and strawberry flavoured" tea bags (ugh) had been consumed during the past six years, it looks like I've had few herbal tea fans over. Either that or they'd taken a look at what was on offer and opted for water.

There was nothing else on offer, so an ancient herbal tea it would be for me. Sigh.

The signs weren't good, the packaging had stuck to the tea bag and, once I finally peeled most of it off, I noticed the tea bag's contents were clumped together. Thankful for small mercies, I reminded myself that at least it was only a herbal horror and unlikely to involve any animal parts.

The tea looked lovely - like raspberry cordial - and smelled ok. It tasted foul. No taste really, just and ancient cardboardy flavour. Two sips later, it was down the drain.

A nutter...and proud of it

Back in the 'eighties a friend told me about a (Kiwi) flatmate who cooked and ate chickens' feet. At the time New Zealand's population had very few Chinese and the concept of eating chickens' feet was virtually unknown.

I recall being utterly horrified and commenting that only a nutter would eat something so repulsive.

Well, never say "never" (unless it involves eating brains). I've had many an opportunity to eat chickens' feet over the years but have never been tempted. Until now. What has this food challenge done to me?

Last night my brothers Brody and John, and my adventurous 11-year-old son Kieran, headed to a Sichuan Chinese restaurant to see what culinary challenges we could confront. When I say "we", I exclude John, a most unadventurous eater. He stuck to spring rolls.

The menu offered plenty of wonderful potential to try new things. We had to rule out a few though, such as sea cucumbers (advance notice required, otherwise I would have eaten one - honest!), and a variety of pork lung/intestine/squidgy bit dishes (I don't like pork).

To get the ball rolling, I bought a bottle of Tsingtao beer. I've never before tried Chinese beer and found Tsingtao to be very light (in all senses, including 2% alcohol) and not very bubbly.

Rating = 5

Now for The Business. I honed straight in on "hot and sour chicken paws". Chicken PAWS? How could I resist? (Quite easily, really.) But I didn't. The hot and sour chicken paws were actually cold, hot and sour. i.e. refrigerator cold, accompanied by salty vegetable chunks, some pickled chillis and a light vinegary sauce.

Thank God they'd trimmed the claws off and cut the paws into bits so you could almost pretend not to notice what they really were. Could I eat one?

Yep. They were okay, quite bony with gelatinous skin. Chickenish tasting. I wasn't nearly as freaked out as I though I'd be - probably thanks to having consumed turkey spam the day before. Not much could be worse than that. I think the chicken paws would have been nicer if they were heated. Brody reckoned they should have been accompanied by a dipping sauce.

Rating = 6

Next up was a classic Sichuan dish, Chongquing fried chicken. Sichuan food uses lots of chilli peppers and sichuan pepper, which has mouth numbing quality and this dish had loads of both.

Nestled amongst vast quantities of fried dried red chillis were tasty nuggets of slightly lemony tasting fried chicken, accompanied by deep fried peanuts. Yum, yum, yum.

The dish was very spicy hot from the sichuan peppercorns, which made my mouth and lips go quite numb and tingly. Impressive!

Rating = 8

I didn't eat any of the chillis because I assumed they were there to lend flavour, rather than to be eaten per se. Imagine the next day's after burn if one did consume them all. We reckon there must've been the equivalent of about 100 chillis in the dish! Here's what was left after we mined out all of the chicken:

One of the other dishes we ordered, scallop and egg custard, was a nice foil to the chicken. This savoury steamed custard, studded with dried (?) scallop and scented with sesame oil came in a cute bamboo serving dish. It was lovely, albeit a bit salty.

Rating = 8

We finished the meal with a light, soupy fermented rice dessert. I thought I was ordering something previously untried but when it arrived, I realised that my Chinese cleaner has given me a similar type of dish in the past. Her (home made) version is, I think, nicer than the one we had at the restaurant. The restaurant one was refreshing, but too sweet. It should have had more of a sour tang.

We all enjoyed our meal until Brody insisted upon getting the restaurant owner to reveal the restaurant's food hygiene rating (which suspiciously had a plastic bag taped over it). It was a 'D' (i.e. the restaurant is one step off being closed down because of poor food hygiene standards).

Eeek. Wish us luck.

Animal experimentation

Here's what happened when I offered Phoebe cat a Turkey Spam dinner:

Upping the ante

So far this challenge has been a pretty easy ride so I decided to up the ante and try a truly scary food group: previously untasted Kiwi food.

Given that I'm a highly adventurous eater, and a born and bred Kiwi, there's a damn good reason why I haven't got round to trying certain foods over the past 46 years.

Where better to get the ball rolling than Foodtown's canned meat aisle?

$16 later I was the somewhat trepidatious owner of a tin of turkey spam, a tin of cooked carrots, an energy drink and a box of "Big Bugs 'n Mud - with chocolatey crunchy cluster crackle" (love the alliteration) breakfast cereal.

Lunch wasn't going to be good.

My mate Janice called by just before noon and innocently accepted the offer of a bite to eat. She quickly opted for toast when I told her what was on the menu.

The thought of turkey spam really scared me. Which bits of the turkey would it contain? Did those bits contain feet? Or brains? Or other unmentionables?

As for the carrots, I don't like cooked carrots so canned ones held no great promise. Trouble was, they were the only available canned vege that I'd never previously eaten...until now.

I've never seen the point of energy drinks. And I don't particularly like sweet beverages. So an energy drink seemed an ideal accompaniment for my loathsome lunch.

As for chocolate breakfast cereal. I make my own low fat, low sugar museli. For a change I'll sometimes breakfast on wholemeal toast, or porridge. Say no more.

In the interests of getting lunch down and keeping it down, I decided not to read the ingredients lists beforehand. Especially not on the turkey.

The turkey was scary stuff; salmon pink (I thought cooked turkey flesh was usually white?), firm and shiny. I was stupid enough to give it a big sniff and broke out in a cold sweat at its avian aroma.

Janice, who'd sampled a bit while I was steeling myself to take a bite, informed me it was foul (no pun intended). She then proceeded to read out the ingredients list, starting with "turkey broth".

Gad, what would go in to mass produced turkey broth? Images of frothy salmon pink stuff abounded. Telling her to shut up, I cut a bit, chewed and swallowed.

A vain attempt to enhance lunch's palatability; smiley face food never worked with the kids and it didn't fool me either. That cylindar thingy to the left is a chunk of turkey spam. Full marks to me for struggling through most of it.

And the verdict?

Turkey spam: Overly salty, glistening, suspiciously pink. I'd voluntarily eat it again if I was stuck on a desert island. Rating = 3.5

Canned carrots: Unpleasantly squishy, salty, 'thin' tasting. Ditto re: the desert island. Rating = 3.5

Energy drink: sweet fizzy taste. Inoffensive but not really my thing. Rating = 5

And for the grand finale, a bowl of Big Bugs 'n Mud with milk, to chase away the spam and carrot taste.

The verdict: Very sweet (38% sugar), but not as sweet as I'd expected. Chocolatey but with an unusual underlying blandness from the puffed wheat, puffed rice and rolled oats. Give me home made museli any day. Rating = 5.

Unlike yesterday's dessert, the sum of the whole with today's lunch was less than the sum of the parts. I had to go to a meeting after lunch and found myself queasily obsessing on spammish thoughts as I drove. Not good.

My little secret

I'll let you in on a little secret: I collect food. I just can't resist the lure of an untried weird and wonderful ingredient. Trouble is, half the time I get my treasures home and either have no idea what to do with it, or lose enthusiasm for the task at hand.

At least the Internet has now been invented, which is invaluable for such foodie dilemmas. I wish I had an Internet connection at home back in the mid '90s when I bought a mock vegetarian sea slug from my local tofu products shop. Stir-frying it with garlic and ginger didn't really cut the mustard.

This is one of my pantries. I've just counted 12 (!) different types of vinegars in there - all of which I use.

My neglected treasures lie in folorn piles on the bench and servery, left there in the hope that sooner or later I'll get so fed up with them cluttering the place, that I'll finally get round to cooking them. Usually the theory works, even if - in the case of the tin of Matzo meal - it takes six months.

Today's food challenge is made with two such ingredients. Which is just as well, because I was working most of the day and didn't have the time or inclination to go trawling the local emporia for new exotic ingredients. As the Chinese say, problem equals opportunity.

The first treasures to try were some round things I found in a bulk bin at an Indian shop a while ago. I can't remember what they were, but I bought them because they reminded me of mini poppadams. The theory was that I could fry them into nice crispy bases for a range of finger food toppings.

They fried in no time, curling into exotic shapes. They were tasty enough in a crisp yet oddly chewy way. Even Rory ate some (well, two). Kieran's friend James, who is usually a pretty fussy eater, even liked them.

By group consensus, we rated them a 6.5.

Next on my list was a packet of Nata de Coco Jubes, product of Singapore. According to the packet these coconut jubes are a "high-fibre, low-calorie and cholestoral-free dessert". (I've never before encountered so many hyphens on a food pack - impressive!). The blurb went on (and this bit really intrigues me): "Spend hours of fun munching these chewy, juicy cubes or mix it with cocktails and other desserts to create your very own treats. Light and fibrous, it's especially suitable for the health conscious."

I just checked the back of the pack and it does indeed have fibre - 1%. Not much, but more than your average jube, I guess.

I'm not sure what the graphic designer was on when s/he developed this packaging.

The contents were...um... juby looking. They smelled weird - like jackfruit (something I detest, thanks to falling ill after eating jackfruit in Thailand years ago). And they tasted even weirder - sort of jackfruity and, indeed, slightly fibrous. Fibrous jubes just seem so wrong.

I'd bought another new ingredient, tapicoa flakes (provenance unknown), this time especially for the challenge.

Gula melaka, the classic Malaysian sago, palm sugar and coconut classic dessert, is one of my favourites. I thought the tapioca flakes would make a passable substitute for the sago, and that the Nata de Coco jubes would be an acceptable addition. Hence, a new-look gula melaka was born:

Okay, I'll admit it looks gross, but the sum of the whole was definitely greater than the sum of the parts. Don, who isn't keen on coconutty things, found it passable. Kieran and James both liked it, as did I. Rory wouldn't even sniff it.

We all agreed the jubes were weird and rated them 4.

The tapioca flakes were harmlessly bland, providing textural rather than taste interest. Kieran gave them an 8, I'd have said a 6.

We agreed the dessert's overall score was a 7.

Not now, not ever

Although it would be easy to complete this challenge by only shopping at my local Chinese supermarket, I think a more diverse culinary approach better reflects the challenge's spirit. So it was off to Sandringham for some Indian inspiration.

I've been hanging on to a "Methi Malai Mater" recipe that one of the shops had on offer, mainly because I'd never tried it's star ingredient, fenugreek leaves. Here's one:

Snigger, snigger.

Keeping it seemly, here are some of its cuzzies:

It looks (and smells) very much like something that would grow in my lawn. That is, if it could fight its way above the kikuyu grass.

While browsing for further nouveau cuisine inspiration, I spotted a packet of brain masala. Curious as to whether it was a masala powder for a brain curry or (horror of horrors) a packet curried brain feast, I took a closer look. All of the ingredients were mercifully vegetal, but the packet helpfully pointed out that it provided sufficient masala for five goat brains.

I did, dear reader, briefly contemplate trying this dish in the interest of a new culinary experience. And contemplation was indeed brief. I. Will. Not. Ever. Never. Eat. A. Brain. Not even a teensy weensy goat one.

I also bought a packet of Chakkalu (round), a "spicy fried snack made from rice flour with ginger extract". Kieran and I thought that "bland" was a more apt description.

Rating: 5

I cooked the Methi Malai Mater when I got home. The recipe describes it as a "rich and flavourful Indian vegetable dish. The Methi or Fenugreek leaves give a wonderful aroma and unique taste..."

I thought the Methi or Fenugreek leaves added little taste, but plenty of stalky texture. They did, however, impart a spicy fenugreek aroma. The dish was nice enough, in a chewy way, but I'd substitute the fenugreek with spinach or finely sliced cabbage leaves if I was to make it again.

Rating: 6

The day's final new experience - something that's been lurking on my kitchen servery for months - was a packet of Falooda dessert mix.

It was easy to make and the milky combination of cubed rosewater jelly, short noodley thingies, nuts, raisins and other mysterious treats were a hit with all of us. Well, all of us, except Rory. It was all too pink and weird for him.

Rating: 9

Day 2: Feeling the fear and eating one anyway

Every time I go to my local Chinese emporium I contemplate the salted duck eggs. And every time I decide "another day". For some reason, I've always been squeemish about the thought of eating duck eggs. The thought of eating a preserved one has been even less appealing.

Time to feel the fear and eat one anyway.

A quick bit of research on the Internet showed that they can be eaten with rice congee, a food I've only eaten a few times and had never cooked myself.

The half-dozen packs of plastic-wrapped salted duck eggs are a product of the People's Republic of China. Trying not to think about all of the Chinese food scare stories I've read of late, I braced myself and bought a pack. Hopefully the ducks have been fed something nicer than melamine.

Here's what they look like inside - not very appealing. Thank God they didn't smell.

I also bought some Japanese seasoned vegetables. Who could resist such a cerise temptation?

Well, now that I've tried it, I can. The pickled veges had an appealing crunch, but a weird taste which I think was from Japenese basil, listed as one of the ingredients. Kieran didn't like it either.

Rating: 4

I made the congee as follows:

1 cup long grain white Jasmine rice

9 c home made chicken stock (you could use water but will get a blander result)

1 tsp salt

2 salty duck eggs, diced

Finely chopped spring onion, to taste

1 or 2 drops each of sesame oil and chilli oil, to taste

Wash rice and add to the water along with the salt. Bring to the boil, then turn the heat down and simmer 1-2 hours until the rice is creamy.

Add duck egg about 15 minutes before cooking is complete.

Serve topped with a sprinkle of spring onion, and the sesame/chilli oils.

It was nice. The duck yolk had a firm, almost granular texture. It's eggier tasting than chicken's eggs, but was not offensive.

Rating 7

Although I want to push some culinary boundaries, foodie flagellation is not the aim of the game. So I bought some yummy looking things too:

We all loved the strawberry gummy chocolates (product of China) and they were hoovered up in seconds. Even Rory tried them, guzzling as many as he could get away with. As Kieran said "they're just like normal lollies"!

Rating: 10

The cassava cake was less successful; stodgy and bland. Mildly coconut flavoured. Kieran, who is having a growth spurt, was happy to take care of all of the leftovers. I think the cassava cake had the potential to be nice, but was probably mass produced on the cheap. I'd have put a little salt in the coconut/glutinous rice base, plus more sugar in the cassava custard topping.

Rating: 5