The faint-hearted and the easily queasied may want to skip to another page. This is about doing the wild thing. As in lions and tigers and bears. For dinner.
Oh my.
And chicken feet, duck tongues, rattlesnake, antelope, yak and snow grouse.
That people eat such foods isn’t big news. In China, sure. Eager eaters there can pick out still-slinking snakes or small rodents from cages outside many restaurants and have it cooked to order, medium or rare. In parts of Africa residents gladly devour tender little ants and crispy grasshoppers.
But this is right here in Chicago, where America’s sanitized food traditions keep plates relatively free of all but the most mundane species of the animal kingdom: Area restaurants, from ethnic haunts to pricey white-linen places, are adding exotic alternatives to beef, chicken and fish.
Such as?
A wild boar chop at Le Margaux.
Curried yak at Mo-Mo Cafe.
Alligator etouffe at Heaven On Seven.
Sauteed loin of bear at Cafe Patou-served with hedgehog mushrooms, no less.
Barbecued goat at Star Top Cafe.
Duck tongues for dipping in a Chinese hot pot at Szechwan House.
Francoise de Melogue, chef and co-owner of Le Margaux, says it’s a simple matter of cooking what he likes to eat. In addition to the expected duck, salmon and lamb, his repertoire includes antelope, partridge, grouse, caribou, musk ox, bison and emu.
“My partner (Brian Sylvia) grew up hunting and fishing and my family comes from the south of France,” de Melogue says. “Our property there has lots of wild boar and small game birds. These are the foods I’m most comfortable with and have an affinity for.”
But whatever their own likes and dislikes, chefs are in business to cook for customers. Are the paying guests game to go on a culinary safari?
Jim Bannos, co-owner of Heaven On Seven, insists that if a week goes by and alligator hasn’t shown up on the menu, the regulars swamp him with requests.
“They ask for it. People really do like this stuff,” Bannos says.
De Melogue says that while some of the customers who order from the wild side of the menu are hunters, others will try exotic entrees to indulge an inquiring palate.
“I try to stick with foods that aren’t too bizarre-haven’t tried zebra yet,” de Melogue says. “People here seem to like the variety. We’ll let them taste a small sample before they order it if they’re not entirely convinced they’ll like it.”
The Adventurers Club, a private group whose members have a yen for daredevil travel, has asked de Melogue to plan a dinner. Given a free hand, de Melogue promises that the dinner, with several courses offered in a blind tasting, will be positively beastly.
“If I were to categorize our members,” says Rob Faurot, a director of the club, “I would say they like the unusual, whether that be a travel destination or an occasional dinner.” The group’s motto says they have left the beaten path.
But all-beef burgers and pork chops aren’t on the endangered list at your favorite restaurant. Wendy Webster, a spokeswoman for the National Restaurant Association, says that the consumption of exotic meat is not yet so much as a statistical blip.
“It seems to be growing,” she says, “but the market still is so small that it can’t even be counted. There are people who are adventuresome when it comes to eating, who like to try new and different foods. And there’s a growing number of chefs who will offer them.”
Venison, one of the tamest tastes in the world of exotics, is the most popular. Harvey Hilderbran, executive director of the Texas-based Exotic Wildlife Association, notes that in Europe, annual per capita consumption of venison is 2 pounds. Annual U.S. consumption is 2 grams (1/15 ounce) per person. Hilderbran is encouraged, though: Consumption has doubled in the last four years and he expects this country to match Europe’s rate of consumption within a decade or so.
Dave Vohaska, owner of Specialty Game in Lyons, Ill., thinks chefs are fueling the movement.
“The really creative chefs take this stuff on because they’re always looking for something new. It makes their work more interesting; they need the challenge. They started with game-venison, buffalo, muscovy ducks. Now they’re going beyond that. And their customers trust that they’ll do a good job, so they order something they might not otherwise.”
Vohaska, who sells such things as musk ox, wild boar prosciutto, emu and bear, says that as more of these foods are carefully ranch-raised, chefs will be assured of a consistent, high-quality product.
Older Chicagoans are likely to remember that eating a buffalo burger or an elk steak is not all that novel. For 50 years, until it closed in 1986, Cafe Bohemia, across from Union Station, made room for the I’ll-try-anything-once-crowd. Jaguar, bear, whale, tiger, turtle, elephant, hippo and crocodile made for a menu that was anything but ordinary.
What’s legal and what’s not is governed by the Endangered Species Act and the Convention on International Trade of Endangered Species. Illegal meats include tiger, cheetah, jaguar and polar bear. But the importation of less endangered species such as lions, is allowed with certain restrictions. The sale of U.S. ranch-raised animals largely is unrestricted.
Phillipe Forcioli, owner of Cafe Patou in Rockford, has no qualms about his menu, which often includes elk, boar, buffalo and lion.
“I wouldn’t feel right about serving them if they were taken from the wild,” he says. “These foods are farm-raised now, so in that sense, they’re no different than beef or pork.”
So what does all this stuff taste like?
Describing unusual tastes is difficult. Connecting flavors to something familiar usually ends up with everything exotic tasting like either chicken or beef: Alligator has been described as chicken with an attitude, rattlesnake as chicken with character, emu as chicken with a pedigree.
People are less kind about grouse, a large, burnished-red game bird. A one-time grouser had this to say: “It tasted like chicken that was aged in the basement, by mistake, on the floor.”
But grouse is the only wildly exotic item offered by Jean Joho, chef/owner of Everest. He wraps it in cabbage and braises it before adding a shower of foie gras and black truffles. Even with all the gilded additions, Joho extends a cautionary note:
“We explain that it’s gamy. It has a strong flavor that you have to enjoy. But it is delicious.”
As for lion, you may wish to pass. In 1982, a Tribune story had this to say about the king of the jungle as it was served at one local restaurant:
“The braised strips of African lion with Grand Marnier sauce is no pussycat. Sinewy and tough chunks give way to relatively tender spots here and there, but much of the meat has a rank odor reminiscent of cod liver oil.”
Forcioli is kinder.
“Lion has a strong and distinct taste but it’s very agreeable and the texture is nice,” he says. “It stands up well to assertive sauces.”
Debra Czimer, co-owner of Unique Foods in Willowbrook, was clean out of zebra recently but could offer a boneless leg of emu, short loin of lion, tail of beaver, alligator jaw, split saddle of bear or a host of other exotica.
“We sell a lot of this in the summer. I think people like to fool their neighbors,” she said. So if you get a whiff of cod liver oil at an upcoming cookout, you might want to stick to the baked beans, potato salad and pickles.
