The Importance of Adventurous Eating (and 3 Tips for Doing It Right)

Fermented shark at the Bjarnarhofn Shark Museum in Iceland. MyImages - Micha/Shutterstock

The question hung in the air, for just a moment. “Would you like some airag?” my guide whispered in my ear, reiterating the invitation that my gracious host had extended—with a big smile—just a moment before. A few pertinent issues ran through my head as my eyes darted around the tidy, lovely Mongolian tent.

Is there any refrigeration here? Where are the horses? And how, exactly, did they ferment the horses’ milk?

But I knew this was important. My guide had said as much. It is a part of a greeting ritual, welcoming a stranger into their nomadic home, with Mongolia’s national beverage. So I quickly smiled and nodded, as our host poured the white liquid into a bowl and presented it.

“You only need to take three sips,” my guide whispered into my ear. I took four, for good measure. It was a bit sour, but not entirely unpleasant. The host looked happy. A cultural hurdle vaulted, we settled in to learn about life on the plains of Mongolia.

Adventurous eating (and drinking) can be a challenge for any traveler. It’s the classic dilemma you often face in far-flung places. On one hand, food is one of the few true and genuine entrées to foreign cultures. What better way to experience life on the ground, except to eat what the locals are eating?

On the other hand, there are the absolutely well-founded fears about a night of gastrointestinal distress that could likely follow. Based on years on the road and so many culinary encounters, here’s a few tips for fully, but safely, engaging in food-based adventures.

Get a Guide

Making my way through a public market in Yangon, the largest city in Burma (also known as Myanmar), I was surrounded by the strange and wonderful. And delicious. Pots popped and sizzled. Steam rose over the whole scene. Scents, unfamiliar and mouthwatering, permeated everything. This was a street food paradise—but for the moment, it was all just forbidden fruit.

I was on a tour with a guide who had more than two decades’ experience. He asked if I’d like to try a few things? Of course.

We sampled all over the market, at stands he knew adhered to high sanitary standards. Places he’d been taking guests for years—and nobody got sick. The last stop? A place roasting the biggest grasshoppers I had ever seen.

In one motion, the guide scooped one up, twisted off the legs and antennae, and extended it to me. I hesitated. Then, I ate the super-meaty insect with a single bite. Gooey and gross, but safe. No illness followed. I was thankful for a guide who knew not just what to eat but where to get them, safely.

Consider the Source

The southern city of Kagoshima in Japan is a beautiful place. Set on a big bay, the downtown streets sit within sight of Sakurajima, one of the country’s most active volcanoes. And where you have volcanic activity, you usually find hot springs.

I was staying nearby at an onsen resort. On my room’s balcony sat a tub, where steaming, natural water was pumped through—a bath, with a view.

And, after a soak, a luxurious 10-course dinner down in the restaurant. I had requested in advance for a few of the dishes to be non-seafood. They complied in a way that I never could have imagined.

Somewhere in the middle courses, a pale, pinkish meat arrived. The texture resembled raw yellowfin. “Chicken sashimi!” said the waiter, when I inquired about it. That’s right: raw chicken.

Most of us recoil just at the mention. Visions of a long night suffering from food poisoning ran through my head, and I had a long flight scheduled the next day.

But the waiter explained: They’d been serving it for years, and nobody had ever fallen ill. It is a speciality of Kagoshima. The chef knew the farmer well. The farm was just around the corner. It was organic and small and obsessively focused on raising chickens that are clean and healthy.

So, I ate it. And, as the joke goes, it tasted like chicken—except with a little less flavor and the feel of sashimi. An experience, for sure, and an opportunity to eat a meal prized by the locals there.

Be Prepared Not to Like the Food (But Eat It Anyway)

Adventurous eating doesn’t always taste so great. For example: Hakarl. Visiting a windswept village on the northern coast of Iceland on a cruise, I had chosen a food-tour shore excursion.

The village was set deep in a fjord and cradled by rugged mountains. Some Icelanders still believe in trolls. And, under murky skies, the clouds descending over the nearby ridge lines, I could imagine how people could envision little creatures living in the hidden places all around.

A hard and barren (and beautiful) place, food hasn’t always been plentiful or easy to come by in Iceland, especially in the winter. So they got creative. In the case of Hakarl, they buried Greenland shark in a hole to ferment and preserve it.

At the first few stops on the tour, the food was delicious, with offerings like fish cakes and smoked salmon. At the final place, with a craft beer in hand, I tried the shark. Our guide popped open a little tin, and invited me to have a taste.

It was, without exaggeration, the worst thing I’ve ever eaten. Somehow both fishy and funky, it was a disgusting punch in the mouth, washed down quickly by a shot of aquavit, a Nordic spirit.

Will I ever eat Hakarl again? No. Never. But it was definitely worth the experience, a sensory sneak peek into a generations-old part of Icelandic culture. And, of course, again, a very good story to tell, for many years to come.

3 More Less-Than-Appetizing Foods to Try While Traveling

Durian: Common in Southeast Asia and sometimes called the “king of fruits,” with a strong taste, the scent is even bolder—causing its ban in certain public places, including, famously, on Singapore’s public transit system.

Cuy: A Peruvian guinea pig, routinely consumed in the Andes, it is raised here for meat, and they’ve been served since Incan times. For North American palates, this will taste rather gamey.

Haggis: This is your ultimate dinner in Scotland. Sheep’s lungs, liver and heart, boiled in a sheep’s stomach, surprisingly pleasant, it’s often served with “neeps and tatties” (turnips and potatoes, respectively).