I never wanted to meet an alligator in a dark alley, much less eat one. I’ve never really wanted to eat any predator, for that matter. Humans generally don’t. Perhaps it’s a cross between “professional courtesy” and “there but for the grace of God go I.” Or maybe it’s because, just like that alligator in the alley, they scare the living shit out of me.
Gators are seriously creepy things, what with their spooky eyes peeking just above the waterline and their shadowy, immense bodies trailing underneath and behind. It doesn’t get much better with other predators. Anyone who says a wild boar’s just a pig has probably never seen a wild boar. Think pig with devil horns jutting out from the snout. And sharks, yeah, the worst part of my honeymoon was going on a shark dive. There is nothing about any of that saying “good eats” except a creeping fear I’d be a good eat for a school of sharks. But the first step to conquering a fear is confronting it. And as a food writer there’s no better way to confront something than on a plate.