mrmoshe Posted June 2, 2007 Posted June 2, 2007 Extreme cuisine: the meal where every bite could be your last WHEN the story emerged last month of a Chinese ship's doctor dying from eating blowfish in Western Australia, my interest was piqued — and I recently paid $200 to taste one of the world's most toxic marine animals in an Osaka restaurant. Blowfish organs contain the deadly poison tetrodotoxin, a substance 160,000 times more potent than cocaine that, when ingested, can shut down electrical signalling in nerves and kill within hours. In Japan, the fish is considered a delicacy, but must be prepared by licensed chefs who have studied for three years. Even so, it still claims 70 to 100 lives a year, mostly in rural areas and from fish improperly cleaned at home. Simply handling the organs is dangerous. A blowfish chef has to be a hocho no sae, or "virtuoso of the knife", as the edible meat has to be separated, with the greatest precision, from the poisonous liver and entrails. After efforts by Australian Search and Rescue failed to save the Chinese man aboard an iron ship off Dampier, a local policeman, sounding somewhat baffled, explained the blowfish phenomenon like this: "Apparently it is a delicacy and there are bars you can go to. They call it fugu and you have to sign an indemnity to say the chef or owners are not at fault if you fall ill." Even better than indemnity forms, in some fugu restaurants the chef will offer to take his own life if a customer falls ill. For centuries, Japanese fugu gourmets have dropped dead at their chopsticks, inspiring such haiku as: "I cannot see her tonight / I have to give her up / So I will eat fugu." Brilliant — gastronomic Russian roulette! Supposedly one of the great epicurean pleasures of the world, fugu is said to be matchless in its delicate flavour: high in protein, low in calories, full of collagen. And, according to one website, "… the dish bears no resemblance to the somewhat grotesque-looking fish". After surviving a six-course meal of an entire blowfish (minus, presumably, the poisonous liver), I'm inclined to disagree. Wholeheartedly. The only two Gaijin in a near-empty Osaka restaurant on a Friday night, my companion in kamikaze cuisine and I nervously ordered the fugu platter, much to the near-hysterical glee of our hostess. Her excitement was presumably intended to make us feel comfortable, but coupled with the horror film-esque soundtrack playing in the background and the possibility of paralysis, it was an unnerving start to a meal. Thankfully, the restaurant served beer. The first course, sashimi, was innocuous enough, although the only flavour seemed to come from the dipping sauce. The next course was cooked, and had a texture not unlike crocodile — it was served cold with pickled vegetables and was tasty enough. And after ingesting it, we both maintained control of our muscles. The third course was more confronting — a shabu-shabu cooking bowl of broth that we cooked over a flame at the table. The waitress brought out tofu and fresh vegetables, then chunks of roughly hacked fish, marbled with thin, spidery black veins and what appeared to be spinal cord jutting out. As the ugly chunks cooked, we deliberately impaired our own motor skills by downing large quantities of beer. Returning to our table with another course, our hostess was thrilled to be able to use a word she knew in English: "face". The fugu face was cooked in the broth and, I thought, verged on flavoursome — but that opinion was formed before I read that fugu skin may also be made into everyday objects like wallets or waterproof boxes. When the next course arrived, I was almost willing paralysis to set in. Four creamy coloured, tubular morsels of something unidentifiable went into the broth, and our hostess gestured to her stomach and grinned. Whatever it was, she was thrilled when we ate it. Finally, the last course: a traditional Fugu-zousui, the remaining part of the fish cooked with salt, rice and egg. This course was comfortingly bland. Although nonetheless nerve-racking. Nervous systems intact, we had survived. But I'm still waiting for the chef to take appropriate action.
Davy Posted June 9, 2007 Posted June 9, 2007 brave man, you wont catch me eating fugu Flatties would taste better! That was a good read Pete!
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