“It’s a Basque comfort food,” said Lisa Aguirre, 54, a descendant from Reno who was standing in the parking lot of the Bucket of Blood Saloon, waiting for the oyster tasting to begin. “Everybody is going to tell you they taste like chicken,” Ms. Aguirre added. “That’s a lie.” .... Sometimes even the chefs themselves cannot work up the courage. “I don’t eat them,” Ms. Wilson, the award-winner, admitted. “It’s very sad.” (source)
Part of what makes this compelling is the character of the town itself:
The city retains an atmosphere of renegade bohemia in which it is possible to spot a woman decked out in lace sitting in a saloon with a pistol in her cleavage. Tourism is now Virginia City’s calling card: the fry, dreamed up by a local saloonkeeper to kick off the tourist season, joins the International Chili Society Cook-Off (May), the International Camel Race (September) and the Virginia City Outhouse Races (October). And Thunder on the Comstock attracts thousands of motorcyclists every September. (source)
Ah, adventure food. Would I try it? Damn straight I would--why not?