Today we will convincingly demonstrate once more that I am not and never will be a Foodie.
On the Tibetan plateau, the roof of the world, a caterpillar fungus is transforming the lives of nomadic yak herders… The fungus takes over the bodies of caterpillar larvae, then shoots up like grass out of the dead insects’ heads. As unappetizing as that may sound, the nutty-tasting fungus is highly valued as an aphrodisiac and for its purported medicinal benefits. Demand has soared in Beijing, Shanghai and other faraway cities. — NYTimes
Yo, anything that transforms the lives of nomadic yak herders is okay in my book, whether it’s an improved grip on their shepherd’s crook or the development of edible caterpillar fungus. And if Asian men can be convinced that swallowing this delectable spore can get and keep the wrinkles out, I say amen. (I also say No Thanks.)
Is there anything people WON’T put in their pie holes? Probably there’s something so abhorrent on all sensory and deep-seeded taboo levels to universally defy human consumption, but it’s also abundantly clear that if whatever it is can be packaged as an aphrodisiac, all bets are off.
A New York gallery on Sunday offered adventurous eaters the opportunity to sample cheese made from human breast milk, getting mixed reviews and some puzzled looks.
Three varieties were available on Sunday — West Side Funk, Midtown Smoke, described as “creamy and just pure heaven,” and Wisconsin Chew, the taste of which apparently reflected the vegetable-filled diet of the woman who provided its milk. — Reuters
I’ve sampled human breast milk — but I don’t remember it too well because I was an infant at the time. Long before the time my memory kicked in, the nipple popped out and I never saw it again. That worked fine for me, and, as far as I know, for Mom, who never expressed (sorry) a desire to repackage her secretions for snacks later on.
The thought of eating somebody else’s mother’s milk makes me gag, despite the attractiveness of the natural container. Whipping it into a cheese product doesn’t help even a little bit, and naming it Funk absolutely queers the deal. It is udderly repulsive.
It also suggests rancid permutations — what other body secretions are likely recipe items? Blood? Crotch sweat? Urine? Webeneezer suggested a smegma-based breakfast food called “Smegmeal.” Intestinal polyps? The viscous fluid that drains from your eye after a puncture wound? (Full disclosure: I accidentally tasted that when it happened to me. It was bitter, and slightly salty.)
It’s often said that a starving person will eat anything and be damned happy to have it. So never say never. Admittedly, that’s not exactly a glowing review of a product, but then I started this by disclaiming any competence at the foodie game. Q.E.D. And pass the beer.