Gag Reflex- Picante de Cuy

I pride myself on having a bit of a culinary adventure every now and again. So far on this trip I haven't gone wrong. I've ordered several and eaten several Peruvian, Nicaraguan, Israeli, Chinese, Italian, and Amercan food dishes never knowing quite what it was that I ordered or received. Random mystery meats, odd pastries, new fruits, funky smelling cheeses, unusual animal parts (cow's feet, heart, liver, spleen) But I finally met my match.

It's called a cuy, it looks like a rat. Some say it tastes like chicken and has crisp delicate skin like a suckling pig, but eating just a 1/4 of one almost made me a lifetime vegetarian.

Most people know it as a guinea pig, and it was my dinner last night. These rodents originate in the Andes and usually find their way into the western world via hamster ball, or small wire cages. Here in Peru and many other Andean countries, however, they are a delicacy, and are prepared in a myriad of ways: baked, fried, cooked in a spicy sauce (picante - the way I had it), in soups, casseroles, fricasseed, barbecued, etc.

The animals were also used to predict the future. Shaman during Inca, and pre-Inca times would spill the guts of the small creature and the resulting layout of carnage could forecast the future or diagnose medical ailments. Clearly, they were damn important. The Spanish realized this and tried to make cultural inroads via the cuy in this painting found in Cuzco's cathedral. (Take a close look at Jesus' main dish).

Now as far as food goes I would recommend keeping cuys as pets not livestock. I was a litle concered when I ordered the guinea pig, but my fear was assuaged by the amount of people ordering them in the restuarant I was in, and by many others who told me that it was very similar to chicken. When it arrived I was even more reassured by the delicious aroma of spices and peppers floating up from the plate. I took a bite of potato first and it was delicious, soft and tender, perfectly spiced. Then I tried to take a bite of the cuy. I started sawing with my knife. The skin was like a rubber armor protecting the scant amount of meat. I thought it would be easier when I finally got to the meat below, but it turned out the meat was stringy and almost as tough. Three minutes later I cut free my first bite, I was already kind of nauseated but I went for it anyway. Chewing the skin felt like eating overcooked beef gristle, or old a piece of an old pair of sandals. The taste was about the same, old shoe and sandal mixed together. I cringed as I ate. I sawed off a few more pieces and scraped and yanked out what little meat I could, but after a few bites I was fighting back a gag reflex. Maybe it was the taste, or more likely the texture, or perhaps it was the fact that my third grade class had one as a pet, but by the end of the fourth bite I was thoroughly disgusted. I had to throw in the towel. Even looking around the room at the others who were gnawing on cuy bones almost put me over the edge. I am seriously looking forward to a less carniverous diet when I return to the states.