"Sit Ubu sit...mmm, good dog."- Tue 2/03/09

Dear Foodies,

(Disclaimer: As with select e-mails in the past, this one is not for the faint of heart...or for softies who think that cruelty to dogs should somehow be off limits. That being said, this one really might make a few of you throw up a little in your mouths.)

The single greatest danger facing the scooter rider in Bali are the hordes of mangy, feral dogs that litter the roadways like organic land mines. The concrete is warmed by the sunlight during the day, so day and night it is like a heat blanket for them. They lay comfortably in front of oncoming traffic and only move if death is imminent or if you honk at them a lot.

"Do the Balinese eat dogs?" is a common question among travelers. The uninformed answer is "no, that would be ridiculous." The idea of eating these flea-infested, disease ridden canines is just out of the realm of good sense. The true answer of course is, "Yes, and they are delicious."

Apparently, dog meat is not just a delicacy in Korea. The Balinese seem to enjoy a spot of dog on occasion. Daging anjing (dog meat) is everywhere, but behind the scenes, where most of the really good stuff is happening. The Balinese must understand that to the majority of foreigners, there is something repulsive and just plain wrong about eating Fido. Because of that, most tourists here are completely unaware that their suspicions are true.

Some time ago I was eating a sandwich (smoked marlin I believe) at my host's restaurant in Kuta. The manager came by to chat and to say goodbye because he was leaving the following day to join the staff of a big cruise liner. That was a shame because he was a friendly face. It is great for him too. He will make $1000 a month with few expenses. This is an exorbitant amount of money for a Balinese person. All he has to do is leave his family for two years.

To celebrate his departure, his friends killed a dog and made some sate from the meat. He swore it was really, really good. When I asked him where the dog came from, he said they just "take one that they don't need" and convert it from a household pet into nutrition.

A week before this, I was hanging at the beach with my Javanese surfer friend. He asked if I had ever tried dog. When I made a face and said no, he told me that he and some friends eat dog all the time. I asked him where he buys his dog and he laughed. "No bro, we just take the dog if there is too many." Then he continued. "You got to keep the blood inside or the meat taste bad."

"How can you possibly keep the blood inside if you have to kill it?" I asked.

"Sometimes we just beat it with a stick. Sometimes we put it in a bag and drown it. Sometimes we just put it in the bag and boil it."

"Alive?" I asked incredulously.

"Ya bro!" he answered, just a little too enthusiastically. "After it dead, then you don't worry about the blood leaving and you can cut it up and cook it."

I pictured a drowned, burnt, beaten, boiled dog with its intestines still inside of it and instantly lost any interest in food. I always thought it was a big no-no to cook an animal with the guts still inside.

The manager at a different restaurant told me that he loves to go to Gianyar (a nearby village) for dog sate.

With all these people around me indulging, of course I went to try it myself. I asked around the restaurant but nobody wanted to join me. The chef was disgusted with me. "No eat dog!!! Ugh!! No do that!!"

That was when I learned the words "Wibawa" (wise) and "Terhormat" (respectable). As in 'UNwise' and 'NOT respectable'. Apparently, there is a bit of stigma attached even for the locals. They don't even call it "daging anjing". They call it "RW", which is pronounced 'eirway' (Make sure to roll the R). Sounds nice huh?

My trusty friend Beni gave me the low-down on where to find a nearby dog meat shop. As he gave me directions, the chef walked by and shook his head in disgust. "You will be curse. The dog on the street will bark at you." Beni shook his head. "No, only if you prepare the dog yourself. Then they smell it. 'oh, you kill my friend. Bark, bark.' Ha ha."

The next afternoon, feeling a mite peckish, I drove to the nearby village of Mas and found the tiny 'Warung RW' sign on an even tinier shop. With great interest, the man and his wife plopped a steaming bowl of dog soup in front of me and stared at me intently as I dug in.

It tasted a bit like goat...no wait, lamb...hmmm, maybe just beef. It's kind of hard to say because it was so heavily seasoned. Beni said they do this because dog meat has a rather pungent odor that they have to mask. Maybe I just liked the seasoning or maybe my meat standards are deteriorating from eating so much spicy fried crap, but I rather enjoyed myself. The meat was tender. The taste was inoffensive.

I hope that it was a clean dog I ate. There is no telling what the food in this country is doing to my insides. Now that I think of it, I should probably consult with a tropical disease specialist when I get back.

"Where do you buy your dog?" I asked the proprietor, instantly regretting my decision.

"In the village." He responded. I found that answer neither comforting nor informative.

I thanked him, paid him the dollar he charged me, and left, expecting to get mauled by some angry dogs on the ride back to Ubud. They didn't budge from their places along the road so I guess Beni was right.

The next day, my body roundly rejected the soup. I've decided that dog is the Balinese equivalent of White Castle. It's really cheap, it is usually avoided by discerning diners, and upon ingestion it passes right through you.

When I got back to the restaurant everyone wanted to know what I thought of my "RW". A few of them have decided that it is now funny to make barking sounds at me whenever I walk by. Oy vey.

Cheers,
Alex