Monday, February 15, 2010

The Virgin bats for the other team

#2 Never Have I Ever: Eaten anything resembling a vagina

Foreplay: Don't get me wrong; I'm all for vaginas. I'm a self-declared feminist and will make you pay if you treat it like an F-word. I once nervously stuttered through an audition for the Vagina Monologues in college. My latest Facebook status reads: Lunar New Year, Valentine's Day, my period started. It's a very red day. I own a goddamn shirt emblazoned with "Vagina: It's What's For Dinner" smack dab on the front. Yet I can't say that I'm all that enthusiastic when it comes to going to town on yonic foods.

First of all, I've never been a huge fan of seafood (undeniably the most vaginal cuisine). I only just began to be civil to lobster and crab within the last two years. Shrimp and I have always been on good terms but now I'm acquainted to it outside of its tempura attire. Salmon is the only fish I will eat outside of sushi and that just happened in 2010. Secondly, I'm very sensitive to the texture of foods. Hummus was a cold, gritty nightmare for my mouth for the longest time; soft, mushy, overly juicy (shudder) peaches, plums, and pears are not allowed to pass through my lips. Lastly, these particular fish of the shell variety are not the uh... prettiest things. They look the same cooked as they do raw. They come in shells; what exactly are they trying to hiding in there? And clams look like they have eyes. Dear god...

But after shoving something phallic down my throat in the last entry, I decided to bat for the other team.

The Down and Dirty: For a belated Lunar New Year dinner, my parents set up a hot pot meal for the family. Seafood is usually the main fixin' but I was able to get away with stuffing my face with soy sauce chicken, soup-seared beef, and boiled spinach as a kid. But ever since discovering the miracle cooking agent also known as garlic after years and years of repugnant aversion towards the bulb, I'm more than willing to put my taste buds to the test with new foods.

As I assessed the spread in front of me, I ignored the savory plate of thinly sliced beef, the smell of freshly boiled chicken, the steam of delicate cubes of tofu. Instead forged ahead towards the daunting platter of raw mussels, oysters, and clams like a determined yet bewildered teenage boy towards third base. I plucked one of each and plopped them into the boiling pot of soup. At this point, I realized I didn't know what I was waiting for. I wasn't kidding when I said that they look exactly the same cooked as they do raw -- a gross mess of flapping flesh. Dad finally took pity on me after a few minutes and fished them out for me.

The mussel landed closest to my chopsticks. It was a vivid mustard yellow color and the size of an oblong gumball. Deciding that staring would further intimidate me (as it would to most young fellows when face to face with their own yonic endeavors), I held my breath and dove in quickly (as most young fellows should). It was... chewy. And soft. And chewy. I don't think I was even done swallowing when I blindly popped the oyster in my mouth. This was also soft. And chewy. I may appear to lack a thesaurus but honestly, there is no other way to describe devouring these fleshy bits while holding my breath and squeezing my eyes shut in silent horror and prayer.

I had to finally inhale -- or should I say gasp -- when I came upon the clam. This fucker was looking at me. Now, further research tells me that they're actually siphons but I dare anyone to tell me that pair of prongs don't look like eyes of omnipotent fury as if the clam is goading you, "Yeah, I know you're gonna eat me. You go ahead and fuckin' try." I apologetically turned it around, sucked the little bugger into my mouth, gave a few overtly aggressive chomps, and knocked back my bowl of soup. I came up flushed and panting.

"What are you doing?" my mother implored after witnessing my table mannerisms.

You don't want to know.

The Afterglow: Alright, it wasn't so bad but I didn't go back for seconds. And I definitely would not order anything from the mollusca phylum when eating out. I'm just not cut out for ensconced seafood with questionable consistency.

While I'm not put off by yonic foods, phallic ones are just easier to choke down. Next time I should probably stick to chocolate vaginas. Now, I'd be down for that.

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