I’ve been obsessed with balut ever since I had dinner with Cindy a few months back. It started off innocently enough. I was telling Cindy that I had a real phobia about cracking open eggs; I’m convinced that one of these days I’ll whack one open and find a partially developed chicken inside. This little scenario runs through my head every single time I crack open an egg. After relating my phobia, Cindy went beyond the bounds of decency and proceeded to tell me about balut.

At first I was convinced that she was misinformed. People don’t eat fertilized duck eggs ON PURPOSE. Duck eggs that contain bones, beak, eyes and feathers. Her story was screaming ‘Urban Myth’. But I soon realized that it was true; Balut is considered a huge delicacy in some parts of the world. In the following days I read as much as I could about balut. I found it fascinating in a grotesque and horrifying way—given my phobia. I even emailed The Sneeze to try and get Steve to eat it.

Low and behold, Eddie was the one who pulled through. I was thrilled when I saw his latest food foray:

(a.k.a. Eddie eats balut. And lives to tell about it.)