I Would Rather Eat My Own Liver Than Try Sea Urchin Again
Last night some friends and I went to a local Japanese restaurant for a birthday celebration. Although I had not tried sushi before coming to Augusta, I have developed a growing fondness and appreciation for it, though my knowledge of the various types is far from perfect (very far). At any rate, since I had already eaten, I decided to instead settle for a few bottles of Sapporo. As I was sipping my beer and perusing the sushi menu, I came across quite a few exotic items which I had not tried before, and, since I have rarely been able to resist the allure of new experiences (and especially that of strange foods), I ordered the following: octopus, eel, jellyfish, conch, and sea urchin. I didn’t even know it was possible to eat the last three, and by failing to heed this harbinger of destruction, I prove once again that I am not possessed of an overly developed intuition.
After some minutes, my order finally arrived, beautifully arranged as only Japanese food can be. Each item was placed neatly upon a small dollop of rice to which it was fastened by a thin smear of wasabi.
Diligently taking up my chopsticks, I charged audaciously through each uncooked morsel. The octopus was the first to fall victim to my insatiable curiosity. I found it rather bland, though the wasabi very nearly reduced me to tears. Next came the jellyfish, which looked like sautéed onions and tasted quite a bit like you would expect a jellyfish to taste- rubbery and full of brine. Overall the taste was not an unpleasant one, and I would probably order this again. The conch, too, proved rather bland, but not displeasing.
Now I was faced with eating either the eel or the sea urchin. I chose to save the eel for last because it actually looked as though it might be rather tasty. The sea urchin, on the other hand, resembled a cross between the orange brain of a mutant and a fresh pile of baby excrement, and smelled only slightly better. I should have listened to my roommates advice: “Good luck with that.” Undaunted (well, perhaps only slightly daunted) I placed the entire glutinous mass in my mouth at once, as instructed by my colleagues.
I am not exactly sure how to describe the taste of sea urchin, though I can say that if I had been in less genteel company I would have spit the entire, foul-tasting glob across the room. I suppose, if pressed, I would say that it had the exact consistency and flavor of an enormous ball of vomit-flavored snot with slight fecal undertones. Since I had decided spitting it out was out of the question, I instead slowly chewed the disgusting blob over the course of five minutes or so, loathing each nauseating swallow. When I had finished the last of it, I briefly considered excusing myself and nonchalantly vomiting it into the men’s room toilet, but this would have been an obvious admission of defeat. I wondered aloud why this particular item was on the menu in the first place. The only possible justification I can see for eating sea urchin is in the event that everything else on the planet (to include cockroaches, earth worms, and maggots) has become extinct, and you are possessed of an overly strong will to live. The only saving grace was that I still had the eel to help kill some of the taste in my mouth.
I have tasted a great many outlandish dishes in my travels, including, but not limited to: fried buffalo tongue (delicious!), fried grasshoppers (great with beer, much better than potato chips), snake bile (to cure a cough in China- it had a sweet, syrupy taste), a bag of raw bug larvae (not terribly good, and from the way the Thai gentleman selling it to me grinned, I think it may very well not have been intended for human consumption), yak butter tea in Tibet (definitely an acquired taste, but once you have, it is addictive), and some mysterious foods in China better left unknown. Almost without exception I have had wonderful luck. Sea urchin has caused me to reevaluate many of my old beliefs. For example, my old motto: “I will try anything twice.” has been amended to include “except sea urchin, or anything remotely resembling sea urchin..” The only possible reason I can see for any rational person to partake of this abomination is if there is (a considerable sum of) money involved. If, however, you are ever in need of a good practical joke, or really wish to test someone’s fortitude, I heartily recommend a heaping order of raw sea urchin.
After some minutes, my order finally arrived, beautifully arranged as only Japanese food can be. Each item was placed neatly upon a small dollop of rice to which it was fastened by a thin smear of wasabi.
Diligently taking up my chopsticks, I charged audaciously through each uncooked morsel. The octopus was the first to fall victim to my insatiable curiosity. I found it rather bland, though the wasabi very nearly reduced me to tears. Next came the jellyfish, which looked like sautéed onions and tasted quite a bit like you would expect a jellyfish to taste- rubbery and full of brine. Overall the taste was not an unpleasant one, and I would probably order this again. The conch, too, proved rather bland, but not displeasing.
Now I was faced with eating either the eel or the sea urchin. I chose to save the eel for last because it actually looked as though it might be rather tasty. The sea urchin, on the other hand, resembled a cross between the orange brain of a mutant and a fresh pile of baby excrement, and smelled only slightly better. I should have listened to my roommates advice: “Good luck with that.” Undaunted (well, perhaps only slightly daunted) I placed the entire glutinous mass in my mouth at once, as instructed by my colleagues.
I am not exactly sure how to describe the taste of sea urchin, though I can say that if I had been in less genteel company I would have spit the entire, foul-tasting glob across the room. I suppose, if pressed, I would say that it had the exact consistency and flavor of an enormous ball of vomit-flavored snot with slight fecal undertones. Since I had decided spitting it out was out of the question, I instead slowly chewed the disgusting blob over the course of five minutes or so, loathing each nauseating swallow. When I had finished the last of it, I briefly considered excusing myself and nonchalantly vomiting it into the men’s room toilet, but this would have been an obvious admission of defeat. I wondered aloud why this particular item was on the menu in the first place. The only possible justification I can see for eating sea urchin is in the event that everything else on the planet (to include cockroaches, earth worms, and maggots) has become extinct, and you are possessed of an overly strong will to live. The only saving grace was that I still had the eel to help kill some of the taste in my mouth.
I have tasted a great many outlandish dishes in my travels, including, but not limited to: fried buffalo tongue (delicious!), fried grasshoppers (great with beer, much better than potato chips), snake bile (to cure a cough in China- it had a sweet, syrupy taste), a bag of raw bug larvae (not terribly good, and from the way the Thai gentleman selling it to me grinned, I think it may very well not have been intended for human consumption), yak butter tea in Tibet (definitely an acquired taste, but once you have, it is addictive), and some mysterious foods in China better left unknown. Almost without exception I have had wonderful luck. Sea urchin has caused me to reevaluate many of my old beliefs. For example, my old motto: “I will try anything twice.” has been amended to include “except sea urchin, or anything remotely resembling sea urchin..” The only possible reason I can see for any rational person to partake of this abomination is if there is (a considerable sum of) money involved. If, however, you are ever in need of a good practical joke, or really wish to test someone’s fortitude, I heartily recommend a heaping order of raw sea urchin.
posted by Joel Hardin | 7:07 AM
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