When my team of madcap adventurers, Mr. Dinosaur, did the Mongol Rally a few years back, careening from London to Mongolia in a broken-down car powered by dwindling blind faith, I found many foodstuffs that I'll never again shove into my mouth: camel guts, horse jerky and, at the top of the list, kumis. It's fizzy, fermented mare's milk, a cross between lemonade, champagne and rotten terror. Curious? Check out my full write-up over at Food Republic. Drink it up—if you dare.
A few years ago, I found myself in Marrakesh. As an intrepid culinary adventurer, I headed straight for Djemaa el Fna, the hectic square at the heart of Marrakesh. At night, the expanse is filled with dozens of vendors offering all manner of meats. Of course, I picked the most dubious carcasses: a sheep's head and a soft, unctuous, flan-colored flesh that I later discovered was sheep mammary. Breast in show? Hardly. Read my queasy words at Food Republic.