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Posts Tagged ‘noodles’

you ate WHAT?

We met a group of friends for dinner last night. We were hoping for Vietnamese food, but two of the friends were visiting from California and wanted to do something “New York” style that they couldn’t get in California. Really, that doesn’t leave much. You can get anything in California. Not saying it’s going to be good, but they do have pizza and deli food there.

By the time we met up with them, the group had already made reservations at a noodle place in Chinatown. Really? Noodles? I’m pretty sure you can get that in California and I had lo mein for dinner the night before but hey, you’re the guests. So noodles it was. Supposedly this was one of the best noodle places ever.

It was, in a word, a dive. The kind of place where I wouldn’t use the bathroom. And this is coming from a person who has used every bathroom in Penn Station without hesitation. They had full body roasted pigs and ducks hanging in the window, which was really nice for the vegetarian dining with us.

I glanced at the menu, knowing full well there would be nothing that would grab me. I was suddenly craving a burger. A pastrami sandwich. Sushi. Anything that wasn’t noodles in a claustrophobic dive. I found a soup that looked good; shrimp dumplings with noodles. But everyone else was ordering a main course as well as a soup, so I scanned the menu trying to find something that didn’t say tripe or fish ball. There was jellyfish with thousand egg and pork stomach porridge and a whole bunch of stuff that was exactly what I had for dinner the previous night. I was stuck. And the waiter was headed our way.

“What do you think beef muscle is?”
“I think all beef you eat is muscle unless it’s tripe/”
“Yea, muscle is like, regular beef. Like you would get in stew.”
“Probably just beef strips.”
“Try it.”
“Try it.”
“Order it, how bad could it be?”

Ok. I ordered my soup. I ordered the noodles with beef muscle. The waiter repeated the order back to me with raised eyebrow. That should have been a sign. “Beef muscle? Ok.”

The soup came and it was very good. The dinners came. Duck. Chicken. Some mushroom thing. Lo mein. Beef muscle.

That was my beef muscle. The plate hadn’t even hit the table before I determined that I was not going to eat that. I wasn’t even going to pretend to eat it.

We all began to poke and prod it with our forks. We stared at it. We giggled. We guessed as to what part of what animal this could possibly be.

I finished my soup and had some duck and dug into Todd’s Lo mein, but there was no way that gelatinous, alien form on those noodles was going anywhere near my mouth. Leave it to the guys to try it.

Nelson went first. Then Todd. Then Greg. I guess it was the manly man thing to do, to try the strange meat that was making everyone gag on sight. They all said the same thing; the flavor wasn’t horrible, but the texture was weird. And then Lorraine poked at it a bit more. She turned over one piece of meat and gasped.

“Oh my god. That looks like a urethra!”

And it did. We poked some more and moved the pieces of meat around and sort of formed a shape that looked remarkably like a flaccid penis.

“It’s…it’s….cow cock!”

I had to remind them that it was not my choice to order the cow cock for dinner. I was rushed into it. It’s just muscle, they said. It’s just regular beef.

“Uh guys. You ate cock.”

No, we are not twelve years old. But, c’mon. If you just realized that the three guys at your table accidentally ate penis for dinner, you’d be laughing, too. Because it wasn’t really the fact that it was penis. I mean, Andrew Zimmern eats penis all the time. Animal penis, too. It was the way it looked. Just cut up and slopped there on the plate, all mangled and rubbery, like a joke the Chinese play on white people who think they are being hip by ordering questionable food. In fact, I’m pretty sure the whole staff was in the back room laughing at us as we gawked at the hunks of meat in the plate.

Of course, the whole subway ride back was spent making “dick breath” jokes at the guys. This was the first time I met three of the people we were with. And now I will forever be known to them as the girl who ordered cow’s dick. At least I’m not the person who ate it.

Short review of the restuarant: The food was mediocre, the dick was too soft. But the company was really good. Which makes any meal a four star meal.

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