This would mark my second trip to one of the happiest countries in the world: The Phil- ippines. In March, I fell off the beaten path (which is rather easy to do outside of Boracay) where I swam with Whale Sharks, camped on an active volcano, and was accosted by young children with a crab. I also got grotesquely ill from a Wendy’s frosty, which goes to prove you really ought to steer clear of fast food joints on the other side of the world, and to an extent, at home as well. But my illness had more devastating effects on my itinerary. While I originally had a rather aggressive plan laid out in March, many items had to be left of the check list and moved back to the “to do” list. Well, this time around, I was finally able to do what I originally started six months ago.
I arrived to blue skies and hot weather. I checked into my hotel, the Pension Natividad, and was delighted by clean, bright rooms. The owner was quite forceful when she informed me that visitors were not allowed in this once-upon-a-time-catholic-church-now-turned-hotel. I assured her I had no intentions of bringing back any guests and wondered just what part of town I was staying in. When I booked the hotel, it was the first place mentioned in the Lonely Planet guide at a reasonable rate, so I booked it without much thought to the location. The Pension Natividad is in a part called Malate, which was once home to the
I am curious as how I always end up staying in the red light districts by no effort on my own! So, with eyes on the straight and narrow, I went to dinner, got some drinks at the Hobbit House (where the waiters are all “little people”, if that is the politically correct term now) and then went straight to bed.
The following morning, I woke up and went to a local café to get some breakfast and conduct some interviews for work. After that, I went over to the Taiwan Consulate to work out some visa issues. However, I was frustrated to find out that all visas had to be applied for in the morning, making my arrival one hour too late. I did find some comfort in the irony that the Taiwan Embassy was located right next to the UN office of the
After lunch, I began a run-around journey across
A few hours passed by and it was then time for diner. I went to a little burger stand next to a cage of men playing pool. I sat down next to two old men being served by a young lady and entered into the conversation. In
My plans for trying Balut were thwarted in March due to my gastro-intestinal issues and inopportune bus routes. Therefore, my first night hanging around a bus station was not going to be wasted without trying this famed, nighttime snack.
But what exactly is Balut, you ask. Fair question, I say. I first learned of Balut while watching a special on the Travel and Living Channel about the world’s strangest food. Beating out the worm in Tequila and chocolate covered scorpions, Balut ranked in at number one as the strangest food in the world. Do I have your attention now? Balut is, essentially, a partially developed duck fetus. Incubated perfectly to either 17 or 18 days for the best quality (i.e. reducing the risk of finding a feather or a beak in your Balut) these fetuses are steamed up and served right in their shells.
At 18 days, the duck has developed enough where you can start to see the shame of an animal start to take form (although, at this point, it could turn into some horribly mutated creature and you probably wouldn’t be the least bit surprised).
So there I was sitting at this burger stand, listening to plenty of vendors passing by shouting out “Balut”. I knew I had to try it. I asked my friends where I could get some good Balut and they immediately pointed to this man right down the street. They said he was the best. (Best? How do you become a master of Balut? I wonder if he sat on the eggs himself.) Well, I followed their esteemed local advice, and walked over to the Balut Vendor.
He sat their, relaxed in his fold-up lounge chair, reading a book while his daughter was playing on a rusty bicycle next to him. In front of him was his basket of steaming Balut, which to the untrained eye, would appear to just be a batch of hard-boiled eggs. On the cart were two large jars of vinegar, and several bowls of table salt. Of course, I needed lessons on the proper way to eat the Balut.
With a few other gentlemen huddling around, digging into their Balut, they helped guide me along. I learned that first you tap the bottom of the egg on the table and peel away the cracked shell to make a small hole. From the hole, you then slurp out the juice like taking a shot of duck fetus slime. Surprisingly, the mixture was salty and tasted just like chicken soup! (Sorry, I hope I didn’t turn you off of
The next stage includes the consumption of the Balut fetus itself. Once the juice has been slurped clean, you then peel off more of the shell to reveal a grotesquely formed fetus. Now time to think about the decision you made earlier as you tap on some vinegar, rub in the necessary quantity of salt, and then take a bite out of it. At first, it’s like eating chicken, then wait, no, just like an egg. Wait a second, we’re back to tasting chicken… hmm, then a taste you don’t recognize props up, panic sinks in, and then, ah yes, chicken again. The texture is probably the most awkward part of eating Balut. First, it starts off as a drink. Then, very smushy like the white of an egg. The yolk has since gotten very hard, so it’s almost like eating a hard candy. So, what exactly is the texture of Balut? Well, quite literally, everything!
Once I pulled away the last of the shell and I plopped the rest of the Balut into my mouth, I turned to the owner and gratefully said to him, “masarab”, which means “delicious”. He looked at me with a sideway glance, smiled, and said, “You know, you are the very first foreigner to try my Balut.”
And then I got on the bus.
Stay tuned for part two of my trip to the
Posts
1 comment:
i like......
Post a Comment