I haven't done much worth blogging about lately, so instead, I will tell you the story of The Grossest Thing I Ever Ate.
To preface, I am not a picky eater. In fact, I have trouble understanding picky eaters and they tend to get on my nerves. There are foods that I am allergic to, and foods that I eat. There are no foods that I can eat, but opt not to. Some foods I am not particularly fond of (I'm looking at you, lima beans!), but I will still eat them without complaint. When I was in the Peace Corps, I ate pretty much everything that was offered to me. Fried pig skin, sure, why not? Wild boar? Yum! Armadillo, iguana? Tastes like chicken! I lived with a family in close proximity to five or six other houses. Per local custom, whenever anyone made a special dish (i.e. not rice and beans), they would often send some over to the neighbors to try. Every few weeks, one of these special dishes was something called Chomfain. (I never saw the word written down, so I have no idea how to spell it, but that's how it sounded to me.) It had a pork flavor, but a creamy texture, sort of like pureed sausage. Upon inquiry, I learned that it did indeed come from a pig. I never thought much more about it, and happily gobbled it up whenever it was sent my way.
Until one fateful day, when I saw a neighbor girl walk by holding a severed pig's head.
Me (grossed out, but curious): Hey Adriana, what are you doing with that pig's head?
Adriana (excitedly): I'm going to make Chomfain!
After a brief moment of confusion, I was hit with a cold, ugly truth.
And that, my friends, is the Grossest Thing I Ever Ate. Although once I learned of its true origin, I never ate it again.