A tourist said to me, “Koreans eat some F$%#ed up stuff.”
Well, it could be perceived that way if you don’t know the culture. Like my father said, “Food is food. Eat to live.” My father has a very unusual palate- an adventurous palate. He would tell us about how he would eat nightcrawlers and cockroaches and frogs in the jungles of Vietnam while we ate our boring macaroni and cheese and fish sticks at dinner. My sisters and I would say, “Gross.” And my mother would say, “Larry, stop it. We’re eating.” What was it exactly we were eating? Boring processed food that sucked all the life out of what was once filled with it. My father liked to eat food that-for him- was filled with life.
When we went to the store, his mouth would salivate over blood and tongue cold cuts that he would put between White Wonder Bread with a healthy swab of Miracle Whip. A mid meal treat for him was potted meat sandwiches. When he went out to dinner he sought snake, alligator, and any other sort of unusual animal available.
Warning…this part is kinda gross. When my sister Jill was a baby my father took her to check her diaper. While he was doing this- Jill, being a baby, she couldn’t verbal communicate, my sister tried to say something to Dad. She had something on her finger and she pointed it at my Dad’s face, and said, “Uh, uh.” My father, not knowing what she was trying to say, unconsciously put her finger in his mouth. Well, he found out he had to change her diaper for number 2 as well as number 1. He said it didn’t taste all that bad.
I wish my father could be in Korea to try all the strange wonderful foods here.