San Francisco's weirdest and the restaurants that bring it to you, for the adventurous diner. Not all of it's offal.
Friday, April 8, 2011
By Teddie Honey Let me begin by saying that I’m a man who appreciates a good drink. And I don’t mean that in some sort of classy distinguished gentleman’s way, I mean that in a throw down, drag out, bare fisted, liquor binge kind of way. The kind of way that involves pounding high gravity malt liquor, and sucking wine out of a plastic bag.
I’m a strict believer in throw and go (or puke and rally to some) and frankly if I didn’t have to be sober at work--I’m a substance abuse counselor--I would never blow anything below a 0.10.
So you can imagine how often I find myself trying to piece together previous night's events trying to map out the reason and location of my current state. On this particular evening I found myself topless and covered in who knows how many people's sweat. With a beer bottle sticking out of the back of my pants surrounded by booty shaking women in hot pants while a transsexual screamed through a PA something related to sucking and blowing. And as the puzzle pieces of my evening started to fall into place like a dinner plate shattering in reverse. I smiled to myself, ‘Snake wine.’
It’s first recorded use took place in China around the year 771. Snake wine was originally made for it’s medicinal value, the belief that the essence of the snake would leak into the sake, or grain alcohol, and make the drinker healthier and more virile, sometimes even believed to cure aliments such as baldness. Due to the traditional use of the endangered cobra snake, it is now illegal to transport snake wine to the US. So you can imagine my excitement when a friend of mine slowly produced two bottles from his kitchen cabinet while an evil grin slid across his face.
The thought of drinking a liquid with a rotting dead animal inside may strike you as a bad idea, gross, maybe even a potential health risk. But luckily for you, dear reader, I remembered to put on my big boy pants that morning; am rarely in the mood to bitch out. And after a second of hesitation when my eyes met the glassy bloated eyes of my serpentine spirit it was down the hatch.
Initially the shot tasted like your every day sake, a bit on the stronger side, but flavor wise, was relatively normal.But boys and girls, it wasn’t over. Oh no.
The after taste of this exotic necrotic nectar is the kicker, similar to what I imagine licking the dirt out of fat folds of a homeless alcoholic would taste like, the secondary flavor of this beverage causes one to immediately question the logic of consuming something with a dead animal floating in it. And saying something like “that crawled down my throat and died” takes on a new and terrifying meaning. A mixture between a dead man's ear wax and sucking on a donkey’s anus, the moments after your taste of snake wine are far from pleasant.
Fortunately a chaser of Listerine, 151 or gasoline easily solves the problem. Allowing you to return to this mysterious beverage for round two,
But why? You ask. If it looks terrible, and tastes ever worse, Then why?
To which I can only answer “cause it’s got a f*cking snake floating in it.”
--Teddy Honey is a guest blogger for Disgusting or Delicious. He lives in Oakland and his favorite thing to say is, fuck the cake I'm here for the bakery.--