Eggs a la Fetus

     I have, at times, been called an adventurous eater. There just isn’t much that shocks me when it comes to food, and even if it does, chances are, I’m still gonna pop it in my mouth. If for no other reason, just so I can say, “Yea, I’ve tried that.” But every once in a great while, I come across something that, though I would never admit it to the people I’m eating with, kind of scares me. Recently, I had this kind of culinary experience, and as a result, I discovered just how incredibly twisted my palate really is. What could this dish be? Some type of organ meat? No. Testicles? Childs play. The fertilized, developed, and aborted fetus of a duck? Now you’re talking.

     Balut, as the Filipinos call it, is exactly as I described it; A partially developed duck fetus still in its shell. Meal includes: Egg yolk, egg white, duck meat, veins, bones, internal organs, eyeballs, feet, feathers, and a soft but very visible beak. Add salt and pepper, and you have yourself a treat! I had the privilege of discovering this strange looking dish at a friend’s house where I learned a few interesting things about balut. The favorite part of many who eat it is the mildly salty liquid that little daffy is floating in. Balut is considered an aphrodisiac by many.  And apparently if you don’t boil the eggs, and you keep them nice and warm, you’ll have yourself real live duck babies for your companionship and amusement. My friend assured me that she knew of the validity of that last fun fact from personal experience. This night however, we were hungry, and opted not to incubate any for future pets. When the eggs came out of the water, I was instructed to crack one end just enough to make peeling the shell back easier, drink the liquid inside, then remove the shell as I eat, and “try not to look at it.”

     I grabbed an egg, cracked it as I was told, and braced myself for what I was about to do. I took a swig of the liquid and let it sit on my tongue for a while so that I could really taste it. It was reminiscent of a watered down stock, very mild in flavor, and surprisingly, I enjoyed it. Then I began to take the shell off, and the first thing that I saw was a head with tiny feathers; its eyes covered by a thin membrane, and its beak wide open. I look a bite and the texture was shocking to the point that I had trouble believing it. I told myself over and over that the little birdie was going to be rubbery, or crunchy, or slimy, but I couldn’t have been more wrong. It had the texture of very tender meat, and the beak and bones were so soft it was like biting into a softshell crab, I didn’t even notice them. After I ate the head, the rest seemed easy. Aside from the one or two noticeable feathers, I think that anyone who tried balut with a blindfold on would think that they were eating an omelet with duck meat, and hey… who wouldn’t want that? 

"Pho"n with Noodles

I'm sitting with some good friends at a small table in a crowded, slightly loud restaurant.  I'm starving. Within seconds all of my senses are bombarded at once. The smell of beef stock simmering in the kitchen permeates the air, I can hear the slurping of noodles, and on all sides I see huge bowls of everything right in the world being devoured by those fortunate enough to have been in front of me in line. Salivation soon follows. The waiter comes to take our order and I am still trying to decide between the ox tail and the number one (tripe, rare beef, brisket, and beef tendon) I go with the number one and in a few short minutes...bliss.

This, in a nutshell, describes my first experience at Thanh Binh II. I was no stranger to pho, but my previous experiences were mediocre at best... there's not much of a Vietnamese population in South Carolina where I used to live, and the pho that you could find was catered to white people who (like me) had never eaten the good stuff. But sitting there with a big, steaming bowl of noodle soup, loaded with enough chili paste to make the devil himself break out in a sweat, I knew that I could never go back. I was hooked.

Only one downside: Every time I've gone to Thanh Binh II, I have felt like I've been gypped on the amount of protein I get in my pho, particularly the tripe and tendon. There tends to be a lot of rare beef, a little less brisket, a low to moderate amount of tripe, and next to no tendon, which is a problem for me because the gelatinous, melt in your mouth, oh so perfectly squishy tendon is my favorite part. Other than that, it's great, and whenever I get a craving for pho, this is the first place on my list. (Oh, and in case you were wondering, the next time I went I got the ox tail, it's delicious)