My roommate, Peter, and I watched on in awe and horror as he ate. When the show finished, we wondered if the stuff was even sold in the States. We figured that if it was here, we could probably find it in New York. We made a pact: if we found it, we would try it.
For months, I tried to ignore places that even offered soup, but then one day Peter came home with the news that he'd heard of a place on St. Mark's that served it. It took another 4-5 months for me to stumble across the name of the place: Kenka.
We decided to go this past Saturday night. We made our way down to the east village. Our friend graciously lent us her digital camera so that we could document the experience. We showed up, ordered one bowl to share and a large beer each to wash it down.
To our dismay, when it showed up, it was not in soup form. Instead, it lay there curled on the plate, like this:
Things went from bad to worse when Peter posed for a mugshot:
The dish was sliced into smaller pieces. I had 2 and Peter bravely had 3. To be honest, it didn't really taste like much of anything, although the texture was pretty chewy. I was glad to put it behind me and head to Bua afterwards to try to drink away the memory of dinner, although my roommate has said we still need to hunt down a place with the soup. Thanks Anthony Bourdain. Thanks a lot.
...and here's proof that I had some too:
If anyone hears of a place serving Bull Penis Soup, please keep it to yourself. Thanks.
1 comment :
oh wow. I've always thought calamari would have the texture and firm squishiness of cooked penis. am I on point?
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