A dog gone shame.
Well, I did it. I ate dog. There, I said it. I'm not proud of it, but it's done.
Here's how it came about. In Korea, although people don't talk about it openly, most people have eaten dog at one time or another. The custom started during the Korean War, when there was little to eat. Today, Korea's archrival (enemy?) Japan, uses the derogatory term "dog eaters" to refer to Koreans.
When we moved into our apartment, Patty's uncle proudly pointed to the restaurant right in front of it and said it was one of the best "boshintang" restaurants in Seoul. Boshingtang is dog stew.
Every time I walked by there, I felt uneasy, like it was a sinister place. But I was curious.
So, Patty's uncle wanted to take me there, his treat. I did. Patty didn't. She and Jack went to a playgroup while I ate dog flesh. We walked into the restaurant, took off our shoes (Korean custom at houses and restaurants) and sat at a small table underneath a sign with a cartoon guy and his dog. The sign read, in Korean, "boshingtang" alone -- too hot. But "boshingtang and bek soju" equals STRONG. In big letters. Yes, it was a liquor ad. And in Korean tradition, eating boshintang makes you strong. Well, Patty's uncle ordered and soon there was a pair of boiling bowls of soup in front of us. We got a sauce, too, to dip the meat in. Patty's uncle ordered an extra serving, which came on top of a small portable gas grill. I used the chopsticks, picked up the meat from the bowl, and dipped it. The taste was good, like beef, but with a more subtle taste. I have to say, if it wasn't dog, I would like it a lot. However, throughout the whole meal, I kept thinking "I'm eating dog flesh." I kept wondering what the dog looked like and where it came from. Of course, I don't have those thoughts when I'm eating chicken, squid, turkey, cow, pigs, lamb, goats, ducks or other animals.
Koreans assure me that the dogs are raised on a farm, just like cattle, and they are killed quickly and fast. There's some debate about whether that's true, but I choose to believe it.
Well, Patty's uncle INSISTED that we finish every morsel ... even though I was full about halfway through. By the end of the meal, I felt sick -- and felt that way the rest of the day. I felt vile. And I couldn't get the taste out of my mouth.