An Encounter with Blowfish, Part One

In Japan, eating blowfish is a big-time delicacy. Flavor aside, the fish contains severe toxins that can kill you if the fish isn't prepared properly. It's part of the appeal, if not the appeal in itself, and I'm not entirely positive of why that is. But either way, blowfish, or fugu, as it's called in Japanese, is a big deal.


Last night I made my first strides towards eating fugu. It had been a month or so since one of my clients started serving it up in his restaurant, and though it didn't warrant a tasting of it's own, I'd been the one nominated to write it up and ensure that the glories of fugu were properly extolled. Every chance that came about, I'd cross my fingers in hopes that I could partake in the excitement--all to no avail.


Why did I want to eat blowfish so badly? It's a foodie's purple heart and gold medal rolled all into one--yes, I'm that badass that I had the guts to try this. And I survived. (After all, fugu is not that dangerous. As bad as the toxins can be, a special liscense is required to even purchase the fish, and you have to prove you're not going to kill anyone.) Only 12 chefs in New York are certified. If I'm lucky enough to work with one, I'd better take my chance while it's safe.

So finally the opportunity came last night. And in the first course of my tasting appeared little bits of blowfish in a square of soy gelatin. It may not sound tasty, but it was--as much as I hate gelatin, it imparted a sweetness that was just right while it gently melted to reveal the crunchy, chewy fish. A great mixture of flavors (in quite unexpected form), it was my first encounter with blowfish.


But what does blowfish taste like, exactly? I couldn't tell you, because the chef ran out of the good stuff before I could try it on its own. At least I survived part one -- here's hoping to a part two, and soon!