T H I S+W E E K Crime takes a holiday By David Corn Cavorting with mystery writers at a conference-cum-carnival in northern Spain A lucky life By Don George, Editor Peter Mayle talks about writing, painting and taking risks August advice By Peter Mayle Oh to be in Paris -- now that the Parisians are gone D E P A R T M E N T S The Surreal Gourmet By Bob Blumer It's summer -- stay out of the kitchen! Passages "To Timbuktu" By Mark Jenkins African encounters > Mondo Weirdo Parts is parts Readers' Tips and Tales The hubris of going "where the tourists don't go" - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Your virtual travel agency - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - LA S T+W E E K Tuesday, July 22 Thai Die By Karl Taro Greenfeld An adventure gone awry in northern Thailand A full list of all Wanderlust articles

M__O__N__D__O____W__E__I__R__D__O__________ More strange food tales from around the world. BY DON GEORGE | This week's feast offers sheep's heads in Iceland, pig's feet in Ireland and the usual doggy fare. We love your food tales -- but we'd like to hear about your other worldly adventures as well. Have you encountered an unforgettable character on the road? Or stumbled onto an amazing festival? Have you committed a favorite faux pas abroad? Send your tales to wanderlust@salonmagazine.com. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Parts is parts shopping for dinner in a Reykjavik market with an Icelandic friend, we passed the (extensive) frozen food section. There among the whale meat and fish fingers was an impressive array of cello-wrapped sheep heads. "How many people does a sheep head feed?" I asked. My companion looked at me with contempt. "They only have two eyes," she said. And a second tale: Late night in Galway, Ireland, years ago, the pubs had just closed, and I had a powerful hunger. We walked about in search of a chip shop, finally finding a busy establishment unmarked by any sign other than the clouds of grease billowing out the door. The menu promised the standard fry fare: skate and chips, ray and chips, cod and chips, chicken and chips, crubeen and chips. Crubeen? I had read about it once in an old novel, but couldn't remember what it was, so I ordered some. The old woman at the counter raised an eyebrow and muttered something in Gaelic -- the lingua franca, apparently, of anyone ordering crubeen. I couldn't see just what it was she was tossing in the deep fryer, so had to wait until I could unwrap the weighty newspaper-wrapped parcel on the hood of a car outside. Now I can tell the world that crubeen is (are) pig feet. There's a little bit of flesh between the toes, but not much. It's an acquired taste. -- Paul Rauber - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Maybe the secret is in the sauce Dog is tasty when cooked right, I'm told. I never had it cooked right. One December afternoon a Chinese friend invited me to partake of the winter favorite at a local restaurant in Ch'ang-sha. I had been living in China for a year and a half. "It is said that eating dog keeps you warm," she said. "That is why we like to eat it in the winter. The last foreign teacher who lived here liked it very much. He would come every week." Never one to shrink from a challenge, as long as it wasn't too difficult, I accompanied her to the local restaurant. I was willing to be flexible. One needs to be flexible in China, especially regarding the cuisine. I was willing to give anything a try, provided it wasn't endangered or likely to kill me. (I passed on the forlorn-looking owl chained in front of a dingy restaurant in Yunnan, or the "mountain-caught" rats in Canton.) Compared to Canton, Ch'ang-sha was a relatively tame place -- nothing wilder than snake or spiny echidna was likely to be locked up in front of the local cafe. And what with the Mao-dictated lack of indoor heat south of the Yellow River despite the freezing winter temperatures, I was in need of some warming up. We sat down at the low table in the best local restaurant and ordered up a dog hot pot -- alliteratively called a gou hou guo. After a while a large pot of boiling water -- shaped like a bundt pan with a tiny charcoal fire beneath, the smoke emerging from the central smoke stack -- was placed before us. The meat was already inside, along with some bits of bark and other flavorings, and the waitress swept a full plate of fresh greens into the stew to simmer. I assume it was the standard German Shepherd mix I had seen in the local markets. From about November, when the dog season begins, one soon sees the market fill up with skinned carcasses of man's best friend curiously butchered in bizarre ways -- through the midsection, fantastically nose-to-tail or whole-on-a-hook. Occasionally one will pass a woman carrying her hand basket full of groceries from which protrudes a stiff paw, a darkly humorous echo of the grave-robbing scene from "Young Frankenstein." After a year and a half, I had become immune to culinary shock. Of course it helped that I was not a dog lover -- in the American sense, that is. In fact, I have often felt that some particularly ill-behaved pets of people I have known would be vastly more useful on a bed of rice than in the master bedroom. In the end, though, I was disappointed. The meat was gamey, poorly seasoned and very tough. "This is not well cooked," said my companion. "We should try another restaurant." I politely agreed with her, but resolved in the future to place my faith in my heavy green army coat to keep me warm. -- Josh Cohen - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Dog as food in Korea: myth and reality The story "Dog today, dinner tomorrow" is very far from real. It's just a fiction. The food named "yakimondo" is not pronounced like "mondo" as is implied in context. Actually it is more like "yakimandu" or "yakimandoo."The contents of the little dumplings are smashed vegetables and pork, not dog meat. There is no saying, "If a dog barks tonight, he will be yakimondo tomorrow," though a similar one exists. The saying is about the three hottest days in summer. Dog eating is like a seasonal rite of passage, similar to the American culture's eating of turkey on Thanksgiving.Dog eating is not related to harvest but to good health wishing. Dog meat is cooked as thick soup, with various kinds of vegetables and spices. The name of the dog soup is "gaejanggook" or "bosintang." And, I don't eat it. The reason I write this is just to correct this mistake. You just can't help laughing when a foreigner states that ham is made of dog meat. -- Ryu Seong Won July 29, 1997 - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - How about you? Do you have a weird travel tale to share? Send it to wanderlust@salonmagazine.com. And join our Table Talk discussion on travel and food.

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