Culinary traveler’s fear factor

Culinary Traveler’s Fear Factor: This gives me the creeps. Enjoy the ride!

It’s banging on my head, do not eat that, DO NOT EAT THAT.
And yet I do.
I’m hungry.
And too curious.
Especially the latter one.

I eagerly sample new dishes everywhere. Sometimes, my choices don’t hit the mark. But if I don’t like something, I don’t have to eat it again.
Few foods are worth dying over.

Well, sometimes it’s been close.
This is the story culinary traveler’s fear factor.

This post is translated from my original article written in Finnish: Ruokamatkaiijan pelkokerroin – se antaa mulle öögaa

Lately, while we were stationary in Belgrade, I was surprised to find that I no longer craved being on the move.
Instead, I constantly yearn for the foods of different countries, new and familiar treats, and exotic taste experiences.
The food itself is already a reason to travel. But…

Culinary Traveler’s Fear Factor:
Chicken in Many Forms It Shouldn’t Be Eaten

My first basic level in the Portuguese language included “galinha e arroz,” chicken and rice.

On a work trip in Mozambique, after a 38-hour journey and a workday following four flights, my colleague and I, along with our interviewees, ended up at a rural restaurant for a well-deserved dinner. The proud restaurant owner brought multivolume menus to our table.

We made our decisions, each in our own way. Time to order!

“I’ll have…”
“That’s finished.”
“Oh, well then I’ll take…”
“That’s finished too.”
“Well, what about…”
“That’s not available either.”
“Hmmm… What do you have?”
“Galinha e arroz!” chicken and rice, the waiter cheerfully exclaimed.

Well then. Leg, half, or whole? the man asked professionally.
Each of us in our group of about ten decided how much we would like.
The waiter then said he didn’t have that much, but would it be okay if he brought rice and all the chicken he had?

Of course! Or were there other options?

Unexpected Culinary Experiences:
When Things Go Wrong

On that trip, I ate chicken products again, in the form of a fried egg.

I couldn’t think of an easy way to hide the vague omelet. I considered dropping it on the floor, but what if it was picked up and put back on my plate?

I also accidentally drank not-so-clean well water. We had mentioned buying our drinking water ourselves. Our hospitable host had interpreted our bottled water request as a desire to drink from a bottle, regardless of its contents.

How do you guide a local without being a picky European and how do you protect yourself without offending hospitable people?

We failed here: Our hostess had bottled well water flowing through Maputo’s dumps in old water bottles. I’m not joking or exaggerating. Even the more informed locals don’t use that water; I managed to gulp down a glass and warn my colleague. The culinary traveler’s fear factor was quite high at that point.

Accompanied by salmonella, I trudged through work trips and later received an unsuitable antibiotic course, even an overdose. (The doctor at Aurora Hospital’s tropical diseases department described it as an elephant dose.)

We moved to a hotel in downtown Maputo, and I remember how wonderfully cool the floor tiles felt on my back while lying in front of the toilet during breaks between work.

On the way home, during a layover in South Africa, I got antibodies at the hospital, an injection to ease the long flight, and permission to fly to Europe. KLM’s cabin crew knew about my situation and was advised only to monitor my condition without waking me.

My last food memory from that trip is waking up on the flight to see others eating ice cream
– I’m not offered anything?

Terrible, Can Someone Eat Dog?

Apparently, quite a few people can.

I’ve wondered in various Asian countries what kind of meat I’m eating.

Can someone eat dog? Where did the dog come from? In my case, from Beijing. I was at a Beijing restaurant with my childhood friend in the year sausage and steak, which I believe was 2002, a year we remember for delicious duck.

We tried Peking duck in a renowned restaurant. A beggar outside the window was signaling to us in hunger. Meanwhile, we were proudly sitting at a table with white linen, eagerly waiting to see what would be served.

Gradually, it dawned on us that the duck was to be eaten whole.
Oh, where are tho the Toulouse-style duck leg?

Tiina and I agreed that one would eat the brain, and the other the broth. I may have been clever in choosing the brain, as they’re not very large on a duck.
And in the end, they weren’t much different from a couple of fatty bits.

Tiina, on the other hand, had to swallow a liter’s worth of cooking broth, which probably tasted mostly like dishwater. (Sorry to all admirers of that dish.)
Tiina then declared she wasn’t going to swallow her soup.
What, after I had choked down the greasy brain rolls?

On the same trip, we ate some excellent meat soups, wondering if this was beef or perhaps…? Better not to think too much. In the end, the meat tastes the same, and it’s a dead animal lying on the plate.

As you can probably tell, I am a foodie and eat meat with a good appetite. I can talk about my meat consumption, food appreciation, ethical production, and so on in another post. And not necessarily here on my travel blog.

If it worries you too much, it’s better to stick to vegetables. As I often do when the origin of the food is unclear. There’s often no guarantee of the ethicality of European restaurant food either.

The Worst Food Experiences are a bit of surprise

There are plenty of food experiences around the world, but oddly enough, my worst experiences are from places no one warns you about.

In France, I ate a steak that tasted like old socks and complained to my companions, my sister, and my partner. They advised me to leave it on the plate, but I didn’t believe them.
Nah, my stomach can handle anything.
Vomit came for a visit.

As a steel-stomached person who has been only sick from food poisoning, I got the worst food poisoning from a Finnish supermarket ready-made salad. I stopped counting the number of vomits after number 13 while lying on the hallway floor of our home.

Luckily, literally shitty food experiences are very few.

Italian Cuisines – Neither Trippa Nor Tomato Sauce Drowns You

Whenever I hear someone complaining about terrible Italian food, I’m reminded of the year I spent in California as a teenager.

I missed Italian food a lot, and my local acquaintance said it was terrible. I could hardly believe my ears until I ate at that “restaurant” serving watery spaghetti where my acquaintance had gotten to know “Italian food.”
I didn’t want to taste that horrible soup again. It should be noted that that dish was not intended to be soup.

Since then, I’ve probably eaten Italian food thousands of times. The best, surprise surprise, in Italy.

Used to Finnish pizzas, I was confused on my first trip to Rome (in the 20th century): Only one topping besides cheese and tomato sauce?
I ordered pizza prosciutto. It was, by the way, the best pizza I had ever eaten up to that point.

Later, I’ve enjoyed Italian food throughout Italy. Italian food is still one of my passions.
But what’s this Italian food? It doesn’t exist. Every region, city, and small town has its own specialties.

In Italy, you can indulge — and be picky.

As someone mildly allergic to tomatoes, I’m not a fan of tomato-based sauces.
Nor am I a fan of sauces in general, especially when the food is drenched in them so you can’t distinguish the flavor of the ingredients.
Sometimes that’s the point. To drown the less quality ingredients for you not to notice.

I hate smelly fish. Veneto’s very fishy fish require some getting used to, but they’re certainly healthy if taste is any indication. Tuscan tripe I eat out of necessity, but it hasn’t inspired any cravings.

So, I can’t say I like Italian food. And yet I do, because I love Roman cuisine. Artichokes and simple pastas.

Every cuisine has its good and bad representations.

What gives me the creeps

Maybe my biggest fear while traveling relates to one of my greatest passions: Food, of course.

I encourage trying local delicacies everywhere. As mentioned, I sample new dishes curiously.
I might not try them again.

There is a limit to one thing. I’m terrified that one day IT will happen.

That I’ll be honored with a sheep’s eye to swallow.

To avoid that, I’m even willing to behave a bit badly so I’d never get such a delicacy.
No, I wouldn’t, but I still try to hide the evil eye in a flowerpot if necessary.

Share your experiences

• What delights or horrifies you?
• What would you refuse to put in your mouth a second time or even for the first time?
• What could you eat over and over again or every time you go to a certain place?
• Share your tips on what exotic dish everyone should try at least once!

Write in the comments!

P.S. I totally forgot to tell about my experience of a rat in the restaurant. That’s normal in many places, but in Vietnam I saw one eating the meat that was been cooked for us. But in the another story then…