I was scrolling channels last night and determined I couldn’t take it any more..the news that is, and stumbled across the Food Network in which I have indulged myself in from time to time. The show was The Best Thing I ever Ate in which a minor foodie celeb would describe a dish which fit the title. It started me thinking. I’ve been eating all my life, and eating seriously for the last seven decades or so. I’ve eaten everywhere from my mother’s breast to street vendor shops in seriously suspect neighborhoods around the world to several of the Michelin starred purveyors of fine food. Hell, I thought, my opinion ought to be as good as theirs…the foodie celebs I mean. I even thought to improve on the through-line by opining as well on the Worst I’ve Ever Eaten, and the Most Unusual…., you get the idea. So here goes.

The Worst Food I’ve Ever Eaten

This was the most difficult category to pin down, mainly because I’ve eaten so much bad food over the years. I’m drawing the line herein at just plain bad food. I mean really bad food. Not food that’s bad for you, but food that I couldn’t get past my gullet. Let me give you an abbreviated list.

1. Civet Cat in Brown Gravy. At least that’s how it was described on the poorly translated menu in an elegant private dining room in Beijing. There were eight of us seated at a large round table with what you and I call a Lazy Susan in the middle. Our hosts were officials of various stripes from the Chinese Ministry of Industry and Technology. As I said previously, the menu translation was the best effort of a lower ranking official who evidently had not done well with beginner English. There must have been 10-15 unique dishes on offer, the star of which was the aforementioned Civet Cat. It looked good. It even smelled good. And I was anxious to try it in accordance with my rule for business meals. As the plates came round, I served myself judicious amounts of each offering including a decent sized serving of what appeared to me a mound of bits and pieces of meat suffused with a viscous brown gravy. Small scale warning bells sounded, but I plunged ahead as was my wont. I attacked the big dog, I mean Cat, first with a forkful of the meat bits with a large dollop of steaming gravy. And there it ended. I couldn’t make it any further. No chewing. No swallowing. Just a large mouthful of the worst tasting hash-up I had ever put in my mouth. I couldn’t talk with my mouth full so I motioned towards the door hopefully indicating that I needed to excuse myself briefly. I made it to the hallway, spit the horrific mouthful in a potted palm plant in the hall way, covered it up with fake grass and returned to the dinner, with all wondering where I had and why I had been there. I was silent on their unasked questions.

2. Haggis. I was one of dozens of invitees to a formal dinner somewhere in the Highlands of Scotland. It was an elegant place and the formality was even a bit inviting. Dress kilts for the Scots in attendance, black tie for the rest of us. There was the plaintive bellowing of the bagpipes along with a kind of military march around the large dining hall. There were the obligatory introductory remarks and then an overly long description of the meal to come, I guess that’s how they do it there. Haggis was the star of the show. The head kilt-wearer gave a description of the meal to come in an accent that no one but his close relatives could understand. Then the service of food, which had been prepared for by copious servings of the local hooch. Yes, I mean Scotch whiskey. Which pretty well prepared me for anything. Anything but Haggis, that is. Let me give you an abbreviated listing of ingredients. Minced sheep’s heart, liver and lungs. congealed with oatmeal, suet, chopped onions and spices. These were mixed together, and stuffed in a sheep’s stomach about the size of an american football. Come to think of it, it pretty much tasted what I think an American football might taste as well. I handled this pretty well I think, by using my coffee spoon to eat very, very small bites of the concoction, smiling to all at my table, and taking another gulp of some really fine whiskey.

3. Sewer Fish. No. that’s not its real name, but they didn’t say, and I didn’t ask. But that’s what it smelled and tasted like. I was in the large dining hall of the Bao Shan Steel Plant just outside Shanghai. It was said to be the largest rolling steel plant in the world. I was there on a tech tour which sought to show how advanced the Chinese were in manufacturing technology, about which I knew absolutely nothing. But as the senior person of the small American delegation, I was not only seated in the seat of honor, I was offered, almost ordered, to take the first portion of the large smelly fish they placed on the table just in front of me. I had bad feelings about this, but saw no way out. My host then served me an overly large chunk of the fish meat from just behind the gills (I thoughtI saw some scales clinging on). He covered it all with some yellowish sauce and stringy veggies. Thank god for the veggies. They all waited and watched until I took the first bite. Arrgh! But I chewed and swallowed without gagging, and everyone else then began their meal. I really don’t know what a fish raised in a sewer would taste like, but I’m pretty sure that this was close.

There are many more bad meals that I could add to this list, but In the interest of brevity I’ll stop here. Oddly, I concluded that what was the worst to me was somebody else’s best. Go figure.

The Most Unusual Things I Have Eaten

The previously described Worst could be included here as well, but it’s already a long list

1. Braised Chicken Feet. This was served at one of the swankiest restaurants in Hong Kong which was owned by a friend of our local manager who I think just wanted a look at an American family. Oddly, the meal was served in a private room on Family Day with only his family and mine. I had warned my kids that some of the food might seem a little strange, but to be polite, they should try a little of every thing, But if they ran across something that they didn’t think they cold handle, they should move it around on their plate and cover it up with lettuce or rice if there was no salad. Amongst the large array of offerings my eyes were drawn quickly to a large platter of braised and glazed chicken feet. Cut off just above the second joint. I watched closely as my daughter bravely served some to herself. I knew that her eating them was out of the question and saw her maneuver to cover them with a mound of rice. Well done, I thought. My son on the other hand was tearing in to them with abandon. They actually weren’t too bad.

2. Lamb’s Brains. Sandra and I were on a grand tour of Arabian Horse farms in the UAE and Kuwait. I honestly can’t remember which country or Emirate we were in, but we were lavishly entertained by all. This particular operation was owned by a close relation of the Royal Family. Come to think of it, virtually everyone we met on this trip was a close relation of the Royal Family. We sat in viewing stands adjacent to his private show arena where our host educated us to the lineage of thirty-two horses. We had a short break half way through for he and his acolytes to attend to prayers. When he returned he presented Sandra with an elegant, fine wool lap blanket which he insisted that she use as needed and then take with her. It was nearing 2:00 pm and my stomach was growling when the Sheik indicated that it was time for lunch. we proceeded to a nearby dining facility with a huge spread of food layed out for all to see and partake of. Featured was a whole baby lamb which looked, smelled and tasted insanely good. Amongst the various platters was a presentation of what looked to be loosely cooked scrambled eggs with shavings of some sort decorating the top layer. Sandra tucked in as the Sheik was describing the dishes and pointing to Sandra’s plate while describing the delicacy of the meal…lamb’s brains. Sandra didn’t hesitate. She kept eating stopping only to compliment the Sheik and his chefs for the wonderful food.

3. Candied Grasshoppers. My long time japanese friend, Hideo H, and I had taken advantage of a spectacular early spring day to view the Cherry Blossom trees at a Shinto temple not far from Narita airport. It was as pretty as you might imagine, spoiled only slightly by the huge crowds. After a leisurely stroll around the grounds we headed for our car parked about a half mile away. As we neared the car, Hideo reminded me of the bottle of red wine we had brought along, and opined that it would be better with a snack of some kind. He offered to go to one of the nearby food stalls, get something to munch on with the wine, and meet me at the car. I obliged and had the wine open when he returned with a medium sized cellophane bag containing some small critters obviously candied with a brownish glaze. He offered me the open bag as I offered him a paper cup of red wine. We toasted our friendship and a wonderful day. They did’t taste too bad. Maybe it was the wine,

There are many others I could list here including the mostI unusual Organ of the Ox Soup that I shared at a banquet with the vice-mayor of Beijing….but I want to get to the good stuff

The Best Food I’ve Ever Had

I just noticed that none of the foods listed above (Worst or Most Unusual) were made or consumed in the USA. What about The Best?

The Best Food I’ve Ever Eaten

1. Angulas. I was at an elegant reception hosted by the CEO of Telephonica (the mammoth telecommunications company in Spain). I expected to be fed well and dosed by a spectacular Rioja wine, but I got even more than I expected. A liveried wait person soon came round with a cast iron serving dish chock-a-bloc with an aromatic, but unidentifiable, food stuff. It was served with a thin, crispy piece of toast with a mother of pearl spoon, much like you would be offered with high grade caviar. The small worm like bits were baby eel which had been sautéed in a sublime olive oil of the region and seasoned with a few flakes of dried red pepper and flash fried garlic. The flavors were near orgasmic. There was mixed English, Spanish and Catalan going on all round me, but I was looking for the waiter and another serving of baby eel. Google now reports that you can still buy them in Spain for about 1000 Euros per kilo. II don’t exactly know how much that is, but it sounds like a lot.
2. Whole Foie Gras in Steamed Savoy Cabbage. You’ve heard the aphorism “melt in your mouth” well this dish epitomizes that description. It did and with contrasting flavors of sweetness (yes it had some kind of fruit sauce on it), saltiness and what I can only describe as woodsiness. The foie gras was wrapped in steamed cabbage leaves decorated be bits of sea salt and the semi-sweet sauce. My mouth still waters (maybe even drools) when I think of it in a quiet moment. I didn’t hurt, of course, that it was served with a great french sauterne whose name I couldn’t pronounce then and can’t remember now. The wait staff at the Lucas Carton restaurant in the 8th arrondissement hovered nearby by to judge my reaction. I must have passed the test.
3. Fire Roasted Dove on the Argentine Pampas. I’m the first to admit that I’ve never particularly liked the taste of the doves that we shoot around my farm in North East Texas, or anywhere else for that matter. Not enough meat and chewy without much flavor except for the various sauces we dose them with. Not so on the Argentine Pampas near Cordoba. i suspect that my assessment of the cooked dove was positively impacted by the environment. And the gauchos who guided, assisted and cooked for us. I never knew for sure if they were cooking the doves we had shot that day or some they had secreted away and marinated for days previous to our arrival. I suspect the later. But, in any case, once the took them out of the fire and served them with frijoles and peppers, I would have sworn that they were not doves, but some kind of secreted winged creature that they had surprised us with. It was, in a word, the best bird I’ve ever eaten. Tender, flavorful, a little crusty and complemented by a mysterious sauce. Oh, I forgot to mention the bottles of Argentine red that helped wash it all down.

Ok. As I mentioned before, none of my food memories originate in the United States. That doesn’t mean that we don’t have good food here. We do. And lots of it; however, none of it rises to the level of creating an enduring memory.

For me, a memorable meal is one in which the food itself is of very high quality, has a touch of originality, attentive service, and above all an abundance of ambiance. I’d like to have them all again. Even the bad ones.