I'm a foodie, living in a city that's dangerous to be one. Not physically dangerous, mind you (although that would make for a far more interesting story). But financially speaking, NYC is Fallujah for foodies. Sure, it has some of the finest restaurants in the world, but you can lose your shirt (or your home) for the privilege of dining at them.
My first memorable food experiences came when I was five. That's when my parents became missionaries to the Philippines. While my younger sister was eating a strict regiment of hot dogs, I was trying anything local - from dried fish (Bolinao) to squid cooked in its own ink. Truthfully, I'm not sure how much of my adventurous eating was due to having an advanced palate, and how much of it was played for shock value. And even now, when I order offal items off the menu, like sweet breads and tripe, all the while beaming at my wife, I wonder how much has really changed in that regard.Read More