I survived day one of the meetings, and (probably more importantly) our proposal survived too. We came back zonked, synched up our email, and headed out for our evening's adventure. First stop: the concierge desk, to inquire about fugu.

ALERT ALERT ALERT

The indented information, below, contains a long and semicoherent digression about toxicology, ethnobotany, and voodoo. Feel free to skip it.

Some time ago, a Harvard ethnobotanist (studies how plants are used by cultures) went to Haiti to study the Voudon (in the US, voodoo) culture. He had heard many stories about zombis and wanted to investigate if they were rumor and stories or if there was some element of truth to the stories.

In the course of his investigations, he got a clear picture of the myth: someone who has violated some societal tradition is, as punishment, ritually poisoned by a priest of the group. The poison could be administered orally or topically, and the victim was usually unaware. Minutes after the poison was ingested or contacted, the person would be pronounced dead, their heart and breathing stopped. The person would be buried. 24 hours later, the coffin would be exhumed, and the victim would lunge forth from the coffin, alive but mindless and with the power of ten men. Potent drugs were administered, and the zombi would be the mindless slave of the priest for the rest of his life.

What the ethnobotanist claims occurred is this: The poison was a potent concoction that varied in composition and involved many animal and vegetable parts, but which always contained a substance called tetrodotoxin. It was usually extracted from a toad of genus Bufo, but could be obtained from several poisonous species. This poison acted by paralyzing the heart and diaphragm, eventually causing death. However, this did not always happen.

When someone was poisoned, the most common outcome was an overdose of tetrodotoxin, causing them to die in about 20 minutes. They would be exhumed, and only a corpse would be found. Less common and more grisly, the person would occasionally underdose. When this happened, the person's heart beat would slow to be imperceptable and breathing would nearly stop, and the brain would slow down and reduce its oxygen consumption. The person would be pronounced dead. If they were lucky, the poison would wear off and they would wake up at their own funeral. If the were not, they would wake up ten feet under.

However, sometimes the dose of tetrodotoxin was precise enough to cause a strange response. The person would be pronounced dead and buried. Twenty four hours later, a vodoun priest would exhume the body and open the lid, and the shock, combined with the waning effects of the poison, would shock the person back to life. In a rush of adrenalin they would fight with inhuman strength, but they would soon be drugged into submission and kept as a zombi slave for the rest of their life.

This, and much more, he documented in the book "The Serpent and the Rainbow". I have no idea if the Stephen King movie of the same name is accurate.

END RANDOM TANGENT

Fugu, or pufferfish, is a very potent source of tetrodotoxin. It is also an ancient Japanese delicacy. The chef is responsible for removing most, but not all, of the poison from the fish's body. Tetrodotoxin is immune to heat, so he must slice very carefully, avoiding the veins and organs that have the highest concentrations of the poison. When properly prepared, the fish leaves a warm, tingling sensation in the mouth. When improperly prepared, it interferes with the heart and diaphragm. Tetrodotoxin wears off about 40% of the time, leaving the imbiber none the worse for the wear; 60% of the time, it causes death. Japanese fugu chefs are all licensed, and observe the same strict 200-step process in preparing the fish for consumption. Deaths from fugu prepared by licensed chefs are very uncommon.

The concierge gave us a sideways look, and told us that fugu was out of season. It is primarily served in the winter. However, there were two restaurants in the area that might still have it available. She called ahead, and indeed, Taiga did indeed still have fugu available. She made reservations for us and we set off on foot.

We arrived, and were again pleased to notice that we were the only white people in the place. We weren't the only ones to notice, as it quickly became clear that we were something of an oddity--the owners and waitresses all came out to see us. We were seated promptly, at which point it became clear that ordering was a challenge. The menu had not a word of english on it, which was not a surprise, but unfortunately it also had no pictures.

Fortunately, the owners (husband and wife) both spoke a little bit of english. After an only slightly tortured exchange, we ordered the fugu dinner and some hot sake. We had no idea what it would entail.

First up our sake arrived. They lit it on fire and it flared up beautifully. Some sort of herb leaf appeared to be floating in the glass. Closer inspection revealed it to be dried, charred blowfish fin. It was quite delicious.

Next up was an appetizer variety platter of sorts. There was an unidentifiable layered square thing that had a light fishy taste, a tiny crab less than an inch across which you eat whole (and was delicious, like popcorn), several pieces of sashimi, and a whole smoked river fish of some sort. Due to some sort of miscommunication we were incorrectly informed that the head and tail were edible. Oops.

Then came the fugu. We were expecting a few pieces of the delicacy, followed by a main course. Far from it. Out came a small dish of fried fugu. Then a small tray of boiled fugu. Then an assortment of dipping sauces, completed with a huge platter of fugu sashimi (thin slices of raw fugu meat) and a huge pile of raw, spiral-cut fugu skin. It was about this point that we noticed both the owners and every waitress in the restaurant peering out of the kitchen, staring at us intently.

We took a deep breath--this was the point of no return. I took a small piece of boiled fugu off the plate, stared at it for a second, and popped it in my mouth. I chewed slowly, and a very delicate, light taste filled my mouth. It was dense, flaky, and delicious. It reminded me a bit of snapper, but with finer grained flakes. Best of all, there were no heart palpitations or difficulties breathing. Delicious! We dove in with gusto. Blowfish has now replaced halibut as my piscine of choice for fish 'n' chips. The fugu sashimi was excellent; the texture was meaty like lean salmon, while the taste was light & flavorful like tuna. The blowfish skin was chewy, but not as much so as squid or octopus.

We finished the entire platter, and sat back to await dessert. That's when the shabu-shabu arrived. Shabu-shabu is like fondue; you dip meats and vegetables into fish broth & eat them with chopsticks. The meat in our case was, of course, big hunks of pufferfish, including large sections of bone. The resulting dish was spectacular; we sucked the meat from the vertebrae and wolfed down the veggies with gusto. The owners delivered some complimentary cold sake to us with the admonition to "try, try!". Finally, they scooped some sauce into the remaining broth, stirred in some rice and egg, dropped in a sticky-sweet bean-based substance, and served the resulting mild goo to us. The whole dinner was topped off with watermelon.

The owners reacted with visible elation when we told them how pleased we were with the dinner. We bowed our way out the door and wandered downtown for an hour before retiring to our beds.

Yours,

--dan