Out of the great multitude of food television personalities present today, my undisputed favorite is Andrew Zimmern, host of the Travel Channel’s Bizarre Food. It’s not just because of his charm and his warm personality, its because the man loves food enough to eat anything (and he’s kind enough to let the whole world watch). In case you’re not familiar with the show, Zimmern travels all over the world, partaking in strange and often revolting local “delicacies.” Viewers can see Zimmern eat all types of aversive foods, from cockroaches to rats to various animal penises.
Why is Zimmern’s show so well received? Why do we love to see him eat the foods that make us cringe?
I think that it has to do with our natural aversions to certain foods and the shock value that challenging those aversions brings to television. The old television show Fear Factor was quite popular for its tendency to unapologetically churn people’s stomachs. The show would usually contain a challenge round in which contestants were faced with the task of consuming large plates of vile foods (i.e. animal testicles and live bugs).
When we compare the two shows side-by-side, an interesting contrast becomes apparent: while the latter show treats the consumption of bizarre foods as a disgusting spectacle, the former treats it as a celebration of culinary culture and tradition. This comparison poses an interesting question about the nature of food-aversion: how is it that fear factor contestants are spitting up deer testicles while Zimmern is asking for seconds? Is our apprehension of certain foods hardwired into our brains, evoking some sort of instinctive fight-or-flight response, or are food-aversions a cultural manifestation, products of societal trends and taboos?
I attempted to understand this phenomenon by testing my own food-aversions. Though I’ve always been curious about it, I never had the gastronomical courage to sample head cheese (until last week, that is.) For those who are unfamiliar with the traditional European cold-cut, it is essentially a loaf composed of a chopped mixture of flesh from the head of a calf or a pig, which is simmered to produce a stock, and then poured into a dish where the fat and natural gelatins found in the head congeal, suspending the flesh in a savory meat jelly.
While the thought of eating the head of an animal may be especially discouraging to some, the cut of meat was not my qualm. In San Antonio, we eat a lot of barbacoa, a dish that is usually composed of slow cooked meat from the head of a cow. I learned long ago that it isn’t uncommon for restaurants to include the tongue and the eyeballs of the cow in their barbacoa tacos. Of course, barbacoa tacos were, by this time, already a staple of my diet; I’d always been aware that I was eating the head of an animal, but the newly discovered possibility of finding a big, gelatinous chunk of eyeball in my taco phased me for some time.
However, this story is proof that if the food tastes good, aversions can be overcome. It was not long before I shook off my fear of mashed eyeballs and picked up another barbacoa taco. Eventually, the shock of eating something unfamiliar fades away, and formerly aversive foods become integrated into our individual culinary cultures.
Andrew Zimmern regards his bizarre culinary encounters as an intimate form of enculturation. As he said in a Travel Channel interview, “Food is the simplest way for me to learn about another culture. Share a meal with folks and it will change your life as you see what real people are thinking and feeling.”
Food-aversions are at least partially influenced by social trends, as is evidenced by the vast differences in food preferences throughout different cultural groups. The foods one considers “normal” depend on the environment in which they were raised and the food sources available to them. Cultural groups share a relatively fixed diet, and unfamiliar foods are often the recipients of social stigmas.
However, I feel that no preconceived notion alone could have been responsible the visceral response I had to my first taste of head cheese. A feeling of dread fell over me even as I entered the grocery store and made my way to the deli counter. For me, the hardest part of eating head cheese was seeing the strange loaf of meat sitting on display. It looks like somebody replaced the fruit in your jello salad with chunks of mystery meat. Even though I was comfortable with the ingredients in the head cheese, something about it’s presentation made my stomach flip over at the sight of it.
At home, I had to close my eyes as I cut a sliver of the head cheese and popped it into my mouth. It had an intensely meaty flavor, like SPAM (one of my childhood favorites). It’s like eating the concentrated essence of beefy flavor. However, the textural sensation of the gelatinous stock made me gag instantaneously. I had to fight to keep the piece of meat down.
I was surprised at the force with which my body rejected the head cheese--a strange food which I’ve always been relatively optimistic about trying. Something about the sight and texture of the
After my experiment with head cheese, it was apparent to me that some aversions are simply products of our our own personal tastes. My aversion to the texture of gelatin, especially in the form of cold, congealed animal stock, is most likely the reason for my fear of head cheese. Just as my disdain for the taste of licorice is the reason for my aversion to Twizzlers.
Although some aversions may be rooted in cultural traditions, others are more difficult to explain. Sometimes, our instincts seem to tell us what foods to avoid, and we must decide whether to fight our aversions or to submit to them. It is important, I think, for us to try the foods we fear at least once, if only to avoid missing out on the hidden treasures of the culinary universe. As for me, I think I’ll listen to my body and avoid eating more head cheese for the time being.
Why is Zimmern’s show so well received? Why do we love to see him eat the foods that make us cringe?
I think that it has to do with our natural aversions to certain foods and the shock value that challenging those aversions brings to television. The old television show Fear Factor was quite popular for its tendency to unapologetically churn people’s stomachs. The show would usually contain a challenge round in which contestants were faced with the task of consuming large plates of vile foods (i.e. animal testicles and live bugs).
When we compare the two shows side-by-side, an interesting contrast becomes apparent: while the latter show treats the consumption of bizarre foods as a disgusting spectacle, the former treats it as a celebration of culinary culture and tradition. This comparison poses an interesting question about the nature of food-aversion: how is it that fear factor contestants are spitting up deer testicles while Zimmern is asking for seconds? Is our apprehension of certain foods hardwired into our brains, evoking some sort of instinctive fight-or-flight response, or are food-aversions a cultural manifestation, products of societal trends and taboos?
I attempted to understand this phenomenon by testing my own food-aversions. Though I’ve always been curious about it, I never had the gastronomical courage to sample head cheese (until last week, that is.) For those who are unfamiliar with the traditional European cold-cut, it is essentially a loaf composed of a chopped mixture of flesh from the head of a calf or a pig, which is simmered to produce a stock, and then poured into a dish where the fat and natural gelatins found in the head congeal, suspending the flesh in a savory meat jelly.
While the thought of eating the head of an animal may be especially discouraging to some, the cut of meat was not my qualm. In San Antonio, we eat a lot of barbacoa, a dish that is usually composed of slow cooked meat from the head of a cow. I learned long ago that it isn’t uncommon for restaurants to include the tongue and the eyeballs of the cow in their barbacoa tacos. Of course, barbacoa tacos were, by this time, already a staple of my diet; I’d always been aware that I was eating the head of an animal, but the newly discovered possibility of finding a big, gelatinous chunk of eyeball in my taco phased me for some time.
However, this story is proof that if the food tastes good, aversions can be overcome. It was not long before I shook off my fear of mashed eyeballs and picked up another barbacoa taco. Eventually, the shock of eating something unfamiliar fades away, and formerly aversive foods become integrated into our individual culinary cultures.
Andrew Zimmern regards his bizarre culinary encounters as an intimate form of enculturation. As he said in a Travel Channel interview, “Food is the simplest way for me to learn about another culture. Share a meal with folks and it will change your life as you see what real people are thinking and feeling.”
Food-aversions are at least partially influenced by social trends, as is evidenced by the vast differences in food preferences throughout different cultural groups. The foods one considers “normal” depend on the environment in which they were raised and the food sources available to them. Cultural groups share a relatively fixed diet, and unfamiliar foods are often the recipients of social stigmas.
However, I feel that no preconceived notion alone could have been responsible the visceral response I had to my first taste of head cheese. A feeling of dread fell over me even as I entered the grocery store and made my way to the deli counter. For me, the hardest part of eating head cheese was seeing the strange loaf of meat sitting on display. It looks like somebody replaced the fruit in your jello salad with chunks of mystery meat. Even though I was comfortable with the ingredients in the head cheese, something about it’s presentation made my stomach flip over at the sight of it.
At home, I had to close my eyes as I cut a sliver of the head cheese and popped it into my mouth. It had an intensely meaty flavor, like SPAM (one of my childhood favorites). It’s like eating the concentrated essence of beefy flavor. However, the textural sensation of the gelatinous stock made me gag instantaneously. I had to fight to keep the piece of meat down.
I was surprised at the force with which my body rejected the head cheese--a strange food which I’ve always been relatively optimistic about trying. Something about the sight and texture of the
After my experiment with head cheese, it was apparent to me that some aversions are simply products of our our own personal tastes. My aversion to the texture of gelatin, especially in the form of cold, congealed animal stock, is most likely the reason for my fear of head cheese. Just as my disdain for the taste of licorice is the reason for my aversion to Twizzlers.
Although some aversions may be rooted in cultural traditions, others are more difficult to explain. Sometimes, our instincts seem to tell us what foods to avoid, and we must decide whether to fight our aversions or to submit to them. It is important, I think, for us to try the foods we fear at least once, if only to avoid missing out on the hidden treasures of the culinary universe. As for me, I think I’ll listen to my body and avoid eating more head cheese for the time being.
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