Cow Brains and Salty Fish Paste

Last night I ate cow brains. Or rather, last night I had a small (teaspoon size maybe) taste of cow brains.

Jen and I spent the morning wandering around New Market – probably the largest market/bazaar in Dhaka. Jen’s research partner, Shakil, took us down to show us around and help Jen get her bearings for the thesis project. The market is full of riveting spectacles – live catfish flopping black and slimy for a last gasp or three of water in shallow trays, all the critical organs of several goats suspended by their esophagi attached to a wire a la clothes hanging out to dry, a pile of heads from said goats lying beneath on the wooden butcher stall floor, some old dude whittling small fish into fish-chips with a two foot blade, dry salted fishies of all sizes suspended and stinking from the ceiling, a room full of chickens and chicken parts that smelled so foul we only dared the most furtive of glances in its direction…All the while as we wander about and gawk, the locals gawk back. We are followed the entire time by a small gaggle of children, “mintis” who first want us to pay them to carry our groceries, and when they realize we’re not actually buying anything, then just to be near the spectacle we continually create. At Jen’s urging, I work up the courage to take out the camera – much to everyone’s delight. All the fish dudes want me to take their picture. Then the butcher sees what’s going on and poses for me, holding open the carcass of one of his goats so I can see the fine quality of the meat he’s selling. Some men laugh and talk rapidly. Jen and I look quizzically at Shakil. Oh, they’re just saying how happy they are to have their picture taken by a good looking American, he reports. Cool…

After the market experience, Jen and I part ways with Shakil and go over to Dhanmundi to meet our new friends Tuni and Clay for lunch. We spend the rest of the afternoon running errands with them, stop briefly by their apartment for tea, meet our soon-to-be-new internet providers (twiddlebuggs they call themselves), and then head out to catch the first screening of a film that one of their friends recently made.

After the film, which was preceded by no fewer than six speeches (in Bangla) and which was low budget and loud and also in Bangla (and so not an incredibly great experience for me), we went out to dinner with Tuni and Clay and some of their friends.

The restaurant caters mostly to students. So it was nice and cheap. The meal consisted of lots of small dishes, some vegetables, meats, fishes, etc. that you mix with rice and eat with your hands. As we ate I took note of the dishes I liked and those I didn’t. On the good list: bitter gourd and spices (kind of sour), potatoes and peppers, okra (definitely slimy), mashed potatoes, green banana, green beans, spinach. On the bad list: small fishies, salty fish paste (made from the suspended and stinking fish mentioned earlier)…oh, and cow brains.

Actually the cow brains weren’t so bad. They were ordered at Clay’s request. (Clay, by the way, is a tall read headed dude from Memphis Tennessee who talks about as much as I do and at about the same rate but with a slightly more noticeable southern drawl). He referred to them simply as “a brain fry.” When they arrived I took a teaspoon size helping, mixed it with ample rice, and popped it into my mouth. The flavor was like any mystery meat (think hotdog or spam), the texture soft (what did you expect?) and vaguely chalky (that was a surprise). Well, what do you think Clay asked? Not bad, I replied, I might even eat more if I didn’t know it was brains.