Yes, that lack of structural integrity seems like a sign of spoilage, which can be hard to get past. I have an aversion to crunchy pieces in otherwise soft foods, like tyrosine crystals in cheese. I love the taste of aged Gouda, but I do a lot of flinching when I eat it.
Hmm, thatās interesting. I was about to say that I love foie gras but it has a difference between the inside and the outside. I think you may well be right. Thanks.
And I would stand on my head for a morsel of aged ComtƩ crunchy with tyrosine crystals.
Have only seen a few episodes of AZ, but a few too many shots of him clearly NOT enjoying whatever it was he put in his mouth.
Iāve eaten all sorts of game, and some fairly out there sushi. Just dont care for blood sausage, and was underwhelmed by uni. Foie gras remains a favoritem
Oh, girlfriend, we need to have a foie gras orgy! Damn, I need to play and then win the lottery 
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I agree with some posters that say some exotic foods are commonplace where they are found, but appear far fetched to our palates. I remember eating chocolate covered ants and grasshoppers sold out of a drug store years ago. Have tried cuy, no problem. Squab the French way was delicious. I do not consider foie gras exotic as much as an indulgence. I will join your foie gras party, catholiverā¦
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Right you are that itās āexoticā only because it is not commonplace to viewers elsewhere. There are likely billions around the world who regard a salad of uncooked vegetables exotic, if not barbaric.
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I have eaten at McDonalds. So I have had everything Andrew has all rolled up into a patty.
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Donkey ragu in northern Italy. It was also excellent.
But, generally speaking, I am not an adventurous eater and am happy with the norms of my culture - so no insects, rats, etc for me, thanks very much.
Black pudding is almost a cultural imperative where I am in the world.
On the other hand, andouillette de Cambrai is the most vile thing I can recall putting in my mouth - smell, taste, texture - absolutely nothing going for it at all.
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Iāve tried black pudding/boudin/blood sausage (whatever you want to call itā¦) in Ireland, northern and southern England, France, and Germany.
Iāve gamely (no pun intended) given it a try on multiple occasions in all of those locations, and the upshot is that I just donāt bloody like it. Iāve given it more than enough tries, so Iāve earned the right to simply push it to the side of my plate. The only even remote exception was a cold salad in Cologne on a blazing hot day ā the small pieces of blutwurst were mixed with chunks of crisp, tart pickles, and the combination was oddly refreshing in the heat.
I donāt gag on it, I donāt jump up and down shouting āIcky-icky-ICKYā ā I simply donāt enjoy the taste, and seriously ā Iāve reached an age where I donāt feel obligated to justify my opinion, nor to have someone tell me I need to eat it. Iāve not ever been questioned or given a serious hassle any time Iāve visited Lancashire or Cheshire, by the way.
Iām with you on the andouillette, however ā Iāve tried it from winners of the coveted Medaille dāOr (of several different years and a couple of different concours) ā I can appreciate the tradition of making something edible out of the inedible (wellā¦thatās a matter of opinion) and I can definitely appreciate the skill and artistry to make all the beautiful tightly-wound spirals, but that? Yeah, thatās an icky-icky-icky candidate there. I was told straight-faced that the more the aroma of andouillette resembles freshly-excreted dung, the better it wasā¦and I just canāt wrap my head around why I should put something that smells like shit in my mouth.
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I remember 1980s celeb chef, Gary Rhodes, doing an āEnglish breakfastā salad which included crisped nuggets of black pudding. I never felt a great need to try and replicate it.
