As a kid, I was a very picky eater. If someone put pepper on my food, I would insist that it was dirty. My diet consisted of a limited menu: macaroni and cheese, spaghetti with butter, PBJ, raisins, and saltine crackers. 

My pickiness was tested one Halloween when my mom made tuna noodle casserole for dinner. Dressed like a princess, I insisted that I didn’t like tuna noodle casserole. Dressed like a no-nonsense parent, my mom insisted that I’d never tried tuna noodle casserole and had to take one bite—or I couldn’t go trick-or-treating. I took one bite, started gagging, and threw up on my plate. My parents never questioned my judgment again when it came to what I wanted to eat.

While my palate has (thankfully) expanded since then, I’ve maintained some pretty picky preferences. I don’t like anything that smells weird, has a slimy texture, or reminds me in any way, shape, or form of tuna noodle casserole. I don’t like hotdogs but will eat one once every five years … only if it’s Oscar Meyer with mustard and dill relish. I don’t like sausage but will eat it crumbled atop a thin crust pizza if someone else orders it. I could go on and on, but you get the idea. 

And then Italy happened. Vacations can be great catalysts for WOW! eating.

One of our stops was Cetara, a small village known for anchovies. Encouraged by the skipper of our sailboat, we ordered an appetizer with anchovies prepared four ways. Previously, I wouldn’t have touched an anchovy let alone put one in my mouth. I didn’t mind that they were crushed into Cesar salad dressing, but eating the actual fish in its whole state was out of the question. I didn’t want to look like a big ninny, though, so I mustered up all of my bravery and tried one. Guess what? I didn’t gag. And I liked it! Kind of!

On that trip, I also tried mussels, oysters, and another unidentified slimy looking thing that came out of a shell. And I kind of liked those, too!

So, when I recently went to dinner at House of Cards in Nashville with my sister and her family and I saw that elk was on the menu, I immediately knew what I was ordering. How many times do you get a chance to say “I’ll have the elk”? 

I did quiz the waiter about it first, though. What does it taste like? Is it gamey? Is it going to come out looking like something Fred Flintstone would eat?

Our waiter told me if he didn’t order a steak at the restaurant, he’d always go for the elk. He said some elk can taste gamey, which often happens when the animal is stressed out. (Who knew? Instead of saying, “I feel stressed out,” I’m now going to start saying, “I taste gamey.”) However, the elk they served were raised on a free-range farm. They were happy elk. Well, until they made it to my plate. (I feel kind of bad about that.) And guess what? My Zen Buddhist elk (who my sister named ‘Sven’) was awesome. I would order him again. 

[Note: Here comes a rabbit hole] While I was enjoying my elk dinner, I wondered what is the difference between an elk and a moose? Of course, I had to look that up and here’s what I learned. Both are both large members of the deer family and are commonly found in North America. Like most relatives with gene-pool variances, they have some distinguishing features. First, moose are usually larger than elk, which explains why you might fondly call your strapping cousin “Hey, Moose” and not “Hey, Elk.” Elk tend to be social animals, while moose prefer going solo. A moose’s nose is large and round, while an elk’s is narrow and pointy. Like mine. To attract the ladies, a guy moose grunts and moans. Of course, I had to look that up, too. If you’re curious, here’s the link. He sounds like he’s complaining, which explains why Bullwinkle was single. On the other hand, a male elk will make a bugling noise, which is a high-pitched screeching. Checked into that, too. Here you go. Personally, I don’t find the noise attractive, but (thankfully) I’m not a female elk. 

Anyway, my point is this. I am a creature of habit. I’ll bet you are, too. I have my go-to items on a menu, usually a filet or some form of shrimp or scallops. Just a few months ago, I never would have dreamed of ordering elk! I’ve decided to be the person who tries new things. Who orders the WOW! item on the menu. Who keeps expanding her taste buds. Because what’s the worst thing that can happen? Sure, I could throw up on my plate, but that’s doubtful. If I don’t like it, I could order something else. But what if I do like it? I would learn something new about myself. WOW!

So, what’s the strangest thing you’ve ordered on a menu? Did you like it? Or did you gag?