ADAM: For our Korea experience, we went in search of sannakji (aka “live octopus”), a plate of raw, still-wriggling tentacles. Admittedly, sannakji is something of a Korean novelty food, but how do you say no to seafood so fresh it’s still squirming? Our guide for this quest was competitive eating champion Crazy Legs Conti, who puts weird things into his mouth professionally. He led us to East Seafood Restaurant in Flushing, Queens—a restaurant, it should be noted, which had been recommended to him by a parking lot attendant.
LAURA: There are three steps to sannakji: 1) chop off tentacles, 2) eat, 3) try not to die. See, the suction cups are still sucking when it’s served, so if you don’t chew those babies long enough, they can stick right to your throat and choke a bitch.
ADAM: Fact: The internet says six people per year die in Korea from being choked on tentacles! Would this meal kill us?!? Let’s watch our mediocre attempt to cut together a home video:
LAURA: So yay, we didn’t die. But neither, it seems, did the octopus. I mean, those tentacles continued to squirm and suction for at least 30 minutes. Which made me wonder what the hell was going on biologically and whether the octopus could feel us gnashing on its legs. So I asked Dr. Emma Creaser, a professor of Marine Biology at Unity College, what was going on and here’s what she said:
“There is a main nerve in each arm called the axial nerve cord, that together with a few other smaller nerves, actually controls the major movement of the arm. Thus, on your dinnerplate, the arm was still sensing and moving. This is a little more complex than your reflex action, when the doctor hits you on the knee with the hammer, but is much less than feeling and interpreting pain. Octopuses have centralized brains that are responsible for learning and other such reactions, that was presumably left in the kitchen. Eventually, the arm ran out of the chemicals it needs to work and so stopped moving.”
ADAM: We also ordered a pair of monsterous raw seafood plates, loaded with freshly murdered abalone, sea squirt, sea cucumber and sea urchin. A quick taste blow by blow: For urchin, you get the scooped out innards, which have a peanut buttery quality to them. Abalone was cut into crunchy round slices—had I not known better, I would have thought I was eating a root vegetable. The sea squirt and sea cucumber were foul beyond words. Before being served, all the restaurant’s seafood sits in these dank, filthy fish tanks. Because the squirt and cucumber flesh have a huge water content, biting into them flushed your mouth with rancid aquarium water. To understand how wretched the experience was, check out our faces while tasting them. (Here’s my Sea Squirt Taste Face. Here’s Laura’s Sea Cucumber Taste Face. You get the idea.)
LAURA: My least favorite thing of the night was probably the giant snails, which tasted like chewing on monster boogers and left a big slime trail when pulled out of the shell.
ADAM: Yeah, besides the octopus, I’d have to say this Korean meal left us feeling a little—wait for it—Kim Jung-ill. (beat) Good night, everybody!
Eats Deets:
East Seafood Restaurant
150-60 Northern Blvd, Queens
(718) 460-1044
