Went out with friends for Christmas Eve lunch at The Pu Pu Pot. Everyone was a regular, except for Steve, who stopped eating Chinese food after watching a Channel 4 documentary on bats. Whilst perusing the menu, Laverne casually asked if anyone had ever tried Shirako.
“Sounds Japanese, not Chinese,” I said.
“The Japanese call it Shirako, you’re right,” she confirmed, “but it’s popular throughout Asia.”
“What is it?” Steve asked, trying to locate it on the menu.
“It’s an exotic delicacy. Most foreigners won’t touch it.”
She was up to something.
“It’s the raw male genitalia of fish which still contains the seminal fluid and all the sperm sacs. It’ll be called something different in Chinese.”
Steve reached for his jacket.
“They liken it to runny cream cheese,” she continued, breezily.
“Another time, guys,” Steve muttered, rising from the table.
We pleaded with him to sit down but he’d heard enough and headed out.
“Never really liked him,” Laverne remarked to no one in particular, as she motioned for the waiter. “Drinks?”
“That’s a shame but at least now he won’t have to try the Shirako,” Alison giggled.
“They don’t serve it here. Never have,” she reassured the table. “He wouldn’t have like it anyway. It’s an acquired taste.”
So is Laverne.