The "meat" component of the meal (which is usually fish) looked like dried apricot-sized chunks, with little tiny white balls (smaller than 100s and 1000s) covering the chunks and in the sauce. I asked Moriam, the cook, what it was. "Mach dim", she said. Did this mean it was fish AND eggs or it was fish eggs? I asked for further clarification. "Dim," she says, pointing at the little white balls. And what are the chunks? "Dim," she says again. So I think what I'm eating is fish eggs with chicken eggs broken up into chunks.
My first bite - about half of one of the chunks - confirms that the chunks are definitely not chicken eggs. On closer inspection, I notice that there is a membrane-type covering around the chunk with a veiny-looking line in it. Again I ask Moriam what the chunks are. "Dim," she repeats, then washes her hands and comes over to pick up the half-eaten chunk. She mashes it between her fingers so it separates into lots of tiny white balls. Clearly, it was fish eggs in some kind of sac.
Somewhat perturbed, I ask how much this "delicacy" costs per kg. Everyone laughs at me. "No, no... Yesterday's fish!" Ew. I am eating the future spawn of yesterday's lunch. After this horrifying realisation, both the sheer disgustingness of it to my Western middle-class palate and concerns about the potential bugs growing on and in these fish eggs, I was unable to eat any more. I still feel queasy when I think about it.
It could only be worse if the fish were caught in the pond outside my house, where a couple of weeks ago I counted 10 dead floaters. I chose not to ask from where the fish had come. Sometimes, it's better to be in the dark. I'd already asked too many questions that had answers I didn't want to hear.
1 comment:
that is disgusting... i cant believe you haven't been sick more monie!
ergh!
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