Sampling a Filipino Dish They\'ll Be Competing to Gulp Down

By ALEX VADUKUL

Balut, a perennial contender on any Westerner's list of extreme foods, is consumed in the Philippines as naturally as hamburgers are here. It's a fertilized duck egg, a Franken-snack complete with partially developed bones, veins and eyes.

At a Filipino block party and food festival in Downtown Brooklyn on Saturday, intrepid eaters will compete in what is presumably New York's first balut-eating contest (the entry deadline is today, Thursday).

Maharlika, an East Village restaurant that bills itself as “Filipino moderno,” will host the event at the Dekalb Market, where it has an outpost. For noncompetitors, there will also be lechón, a roasted pork dish. Maharlika seeks to raise awareness about the island cuisine, known for its meat dishes and rich savory and sour flavors.

“We were inspired a bit by the Nathan's contest,” said Nicole Ponseca, general manager of the restaurant. “What's more American than a hot dog? Well, what's more Filipino than balut?”

Last Friday, City Room visited Maharlika to try balut. Ms. Ponseca, 35, sat nearby offering instruction. The egg arrived with salt on the side. Shots of traditional cane vinegar â€" suka â€" and lambanog, a strong coconut wine, were poured as palate cleansers for later.

Cracking the egg comes first. “A Filipino will know how to open it properly,” Ms. Ponseca said. The wide-bottom end should be struck. It covers an air pocket, which makes peeling easier.

I pulled back the embryo skin inside with my fork and sprinkled salt into the quarter-size opening. I sipped the fluids that collected. I had shuddered when Ms. Ponseca merrily described them as “chicken soup for the soul,” but I saw where she was coming from. It was broth-like and hearty.

The yellow yolk, which surrounds the fetus, is next. It's a dense purée covered in vessels and miniature feathers that cli ng to your teeth. When Ms. Ponseca was younger, she recalled, her father spooned yolk out for her as though it were a parfait. Intended to sustain an organism through early life, the yolk makes for a decadent snack.

After picking and nibbling some more, I realized I was stalling, neglecting the white blob nestled in the yolk's center. I assumed it contained the lifeless duck fetus, which Ms. Ponseca refers to as “Daffy.” I averted my eyes and bit hard. Some crunch. Minimal flavor.

I looked. The embryo was alien-like: small, brown and with little hair or feathers. (Later, a second balut offered a closer look. It had bulging eyes, impish arms and legs and a rotund belly.)

At the shell's base was a hard white mound: the egg white. The flavorless rubbery taste stayed with me for hours. “It's more of a textural thing,” said Noel Cruz, a Maharlika employee.

Ms. Ponseca said that when she decided to serve balut at the restaurant, friends tried to tal k her out of it.

“It will scare people,” they told her. “I said, ‘Definitely not.' This is what we eat.”