Ever see a giant snail? Then have to grill and eat it? I have.

Wow, what a meal the other night (Wednesday – first night at the ryokan). Traditionally, guests don’t leave their inns to eat. Rather, the best chefs work at the best hotels and you can eat like a king in-house.

Yoko ordered a bunch of regional specialties at our dinner. The six of us ate in a private dining room, sitting on the tatami mats on small, legless chairs in traditional fashion. A very respectful, kimono-clad woman attended our room, bowing every time she entered and kneeing to open and close the door. With all of us wearing kimonos loaned to us by the hotel (also, standard), it felt like we were in some sort of silk wall hanging or watercolor portrait. Very cool…

The tables were already covered with food when we entered. Each of us had the same selection: Japanese hotpot (slices of raw fish and vegetables that you cook yourself in a broth and then dip in seasonings), sashimi, sushi appetitizers, a dish of rice that the attendant cooked while we ate, miso soup with lobster, vegetables and the usual Japanese garnishes of seaweed and pickles.

The Japanese, apparently, drink all the time (I mentioned the breakfast beer), so Yoko and Reiko ordered bottles of Sapporo and I asked for a bottle of white wine and we got down to business with hearty cries of Itadakimasu! and Kampai!

As we ate the food (which was all incredibly fresh – particularly the sashimi scallops), the waitress brought out two more dishes – regional delicacies. Yoko had arranged ahead of time for us to try both of them. The first, Red Snapper, was served broiled whole and garnished in a rich, sesame teriyaki sauce. With three fish for the six of us, each person received half of a fish respectively. Mine was piled high on a plate – eyeballs to tail, skin and all.

It was very good. The fish’s skin was perfectly crisp and the white flesh underneath melted away as it hit your tongue. Snapper doesn’t have a thick, fishy taste. Rather, the meat had soaked in the flavors of the marinade and had a light, buttery finish.

Thankfully, I didn’t have to eat the fish’s eyeball. Apparently that, along with the spine and tail, are the only things the Japanese don’t eat. However, Yoko did say I should try the eye socket because it was “good for your blood.” Not wanting to offend, I popped the wobbly disc into my mouth and crunched down on the jelly-filled substance. Um… the bitter flavor and awful consistency didn’t pair well with the rest of the delicious fish. Thankfully, I only had one socket to get through.

What I didn’t know at the time was that a little bit of whole fish was just a warm-up for the culinary adventure to come. Thing were about to get a whole lot scarier. Let me introduce you to owabi – an expensive, fresh-caught specialty. We Americans would refer to it either as “live giant snail” (me) or “Eeeeeeeeeek!” (Mom and Sis).

Now, most would be pout off by snails in the first place. Personally, I rather enjoy escargot as an appetizer, but they’re small, manageable and served sautéed in butter and garlic. Note the operative word there being “cooked.”

That night, not all of our dinner was served out of the oven. Rather, the owabi was placed, shell-down, on a small plate and presented separately from the rest of the meal. I think the intention was to have us guests especially note its wriggly freshness.

That was kind of hard to miss; the underside of the slimy snail rippled and wriggled as the animal struggled to flip itself over and ooze off to the closest tidal pool. At first, the snails just undulated quietly, almost like they were breathing rhythmically (Were they? I didn’t ask… too busy trying not to have a “reversal.”) But after a few minutes, their struggles became fiercer and they began to twist their bodies back and forth, rocking their shells against the plate. Clink, click, clack.

For a brief moment, I had to steel myself to find some courage to quietly go on with dinner. Jen and Mom both let out shrieks and had to hide their respective snails out of sight. I can’t say that I blame them – owabi ain’t gonna be winning no beauty contest this century. We also didn’t have any warning that a giant, oozy, wriggling snail was going to feature as the main course. Just, plop, here you go – enjoy!

Thankfully, we didn’t have to eat the snails raw. There wasn’t any way I could do that. Each table has a small 4x4-inch grill with a sterno can. At the proper time, our server lit the sterno and I dropped my snail, shell down, onto the flames. The struggles intensified.

“How do you know when it’s been cooked?” I asked, reasonably.

“Oh, when it stops moving of course.”

“Right.”

It took a few minutes of some frantic, wavy death-wriggles, but the little guy eventually stopped moving. I left him on the grill to cook for a few more minutes. Can’t be too careful, you know.

We got my flip rolling tape (I’ll try to post it soon) and I dressed the owabi with a pat of butter and squeezed a lemon wedge over it. The outer edges of the snail’s body contracted involuntarily when the acidic fruit juice hit it. While it did that, I ignored the double-twist somersault my stomach performed simultaneously. “Too late to stop now,” I thought.

I sliced off a piece using a knife and fork.

Hmm… that looks big.

I cut it in half.

Better, but…

I cut it in half again.

After that, there was no turning back. I stabbed a chunk, took a breath and popped it into my mouth. One chew. Two chews. A third… and then I had the rhythm going.

The result? No gagging, spitting or choking. The snail was tough, springy and fairly flavorless as a whole. I’d say part of the texture came from possible over-cooking, but that’d just be a guess (note: probably incorrect – our dinner the next night contained three small slices of owabi, served cooked and they were similarly tough). If I had to compare the snail to anything, I’d say it’s probably like a scallop – only with 1/10th of the flavor and about 20 times the chewiness. Japaanes love subtlety in their flavors, so that’s probably what makes this exotic treat a $40-per-piece delicacy.

As for me, I would’ve been perfectly satisfied with some shrimp tempura or gyoza or something. But, hey, you only live once.

Still alive in Japan… catch you soon!