“I’ll do it,” I blurted out, clutching my third cup of coffee like it might shield me from the consequences of my enthusiasm. Across the table, my editor raised an eyebrow. “You’re sure?” she asked, already amused. “Oh, absolutely,” I nodded, words spilling out before my brain stepped in to stop them.

This is how I found myself eating raw cow brain at a Toronto pop-up dinner, surrounded by Instagram influencers who debated its “earthy undertones” like it wasn’t, in fact, a blob of slime on toast. And yes, all of this chaos was just part of the weirdest thing I’ve ever done for a story. Because, let me tell you, journalistic curiosity can lead you into some delightfully unhinged situations.

The Great Brain Adventure

The assignment started innocently enough. I’d been tasked with profiling Toronto’s growing underground dining scene—a world as secretive as it is deliciously daring. It was my job to uncover why people were flocking to abandoned warehouses at midnight to eat things like candied crickets or fermented shark.

I’d expected the research to be straightforward: some interviews with chefs, a sprinkling of colourful descriptions, and voilà, a quirky slice-of-Toronto piece. What I hadn’t anticipated was getting invited to a dinner where one of the courses required a follow-up conversation with my doctor. The moment the email invite landed in my inbox—with cryptic phrases like “culinary extremism meets art installation”—I knew I was being pulled into something bizarre.

Flash-forward to me at the entrance of a dimly lit butcher shop basement. The smell of spices and high-stakes decision-making hung in the air. Guests exchanged knowing nods while discussing kombucha recipes and obscure Netflix documentaries. And there I was, trying to look unfazed while suppressing my very Canadian urge to apologize to absolutely everyone for everything.

Of course, the pièce de résistance of the night was the dish in question: cow brain pâté. It arrived plated on what I could only describe as “an accessory from a Björk music video.” Think black slate with a drizzle of saffron oil and some aggressively minimalist garnish. My stomach flipped. Across the table, one guest whispered that they were vegan but “cheating tonight for the experience.” I nodded, as if I, too, had gone on this culinary journey by choice and not sheer journalistic obligation.

Lessons from the Cow Brain Chronicles

Now, as you might imagine, eating cow brain isn’t just about, well, eating cow brain. It’s a full-blown mental marathon. Somewhere between the first hesitant bite and the realization that “earthy undertones” were code for “this tastes like library paste,” I learned a few things—not just about experimental dining, but about throwing yourself into unfamiliar experiences. And, oddly enough, those lessons have a way of coming back to relationships. Here’s what I mean:

1. Sometimes, You Just Have to Say Yes

Whether it’s trying something outside of your culinary comfort zone or agreeing to a coffee date with someone whose pet ferret features prominently on their Hinge profile, life is made up of risks. Sure, the unknown is scary—case in point, the gelatinous cow brain forkful I managed to choke down—but it’s also where growth happens.

The same is true in relationships. What if your perfect match is a vegan who occasionally indulges in underground dinners? What if they swing dance? Or collect antique teapots? If you never say yes to new experiences, you might miss out on meeting someone amazing—or discovering a side of yourself you never knew existed.

2. First Impressions Aren’t Everything

I’ll be honest: when I first saw that cow brain, I mentally composed a new career plan that didn’t require eating things for content. But by my second bite, I wasn’t completely horrified. Sure, it was weird, but it was also oddly satisfying—a reminder that judging too quickly can prevent us from appreciating something that might surprise us.

This applies to people, too. Maybe your first date is with someone who overuses air quotes or insists on discussing CrossFit mid-meal. Maybe they’re nervous and laugh too loudly at their own jokes. Give them a chance. People (like experimental dishes) often reveal their depths over time.

3. You Don’t Have to Be Perfect

Here’s the thing: I didn’t win the “brain-eating Olympics” that night. In fact, it was an awkward battle of polite grimaces and a lot of strategically placed napkins. But by the end of the meal, everyone at the table knew I was the guy trying this for the first time—and they respected it. Authenticity counts more than perfection.

When it comes to relationships, it’s easy to put pressure on ourselves to look polished, to say the right thing, to come across like we have our lives together. But the truth is, vulnerability wins every time. Messing up a little makes you more approachable, more human. Show up as yourself, and let the crumbs (or cow brains) fall where they may.

Epilogue: The Power of Embracing the Weird

If you’re wondering whether the article ever got published: it did—and readers loved it. Some emailed to share their own culinary escapades, while one particularly bold Vancouverite tried to convince me that raw octopus was a must-add to my future food adventures. Needless to say, I now screen my inbox for suspicious subject lines.

But beyond the clicks and comments, what this experience really taught me is the value of stepping outside your routine. Trying something unexpected—whether it's a bold new dish or a daring first date—can lead to incredible stories and even better connections. Life, after all, isn’t about playing it safe. It’s about collecting memories weird enough to tell your friends (and possibly your editor).

So, the next time an opportunity finds you—be it a tantalizingly bizarre dinner invite or a chance to meet someone who’d never normally cross your radar—pause before you say no. Embrace the weird. Try the cow brain. Even if it makes no sense in the moment, I promise, it’ll make for one unforgettable story.