I’d told my friends that my favorite local Japanese place served something provocative.

“We’ve got to try it!” they exclaimed, to my horror.

Among the unfamiliar Japanese characters and random pornographic drawings on the menu, I managed to find what we — or at least they — wanted. It was clearly labeled in English:

“Bull’s penis … $5.50.”

We asked our waitress if it was good. She smiled politely and laughed, but didn’t answer.

But my friends seemed to be enjoying themselves. I realized that eating grotesque, weird food was like a sport for them — a hobby.

They have plenty of company, I discovered — extreme epicureans breaking social food norms with their odd menu choices. And they aren’t necessarily in it for a great meal.