I never imagined that feijoada could be something disgusting in a person's eyes. But the reaction I saw from a young Japanese man when he tasted this dish made me change my mind.

The guy had just arrived from Japan. He came through an exchange program, he was staying at a friend of mine's house, and he wanted to get to know all the clichés of Brazil.

We promise to introduce you to the beaches, samba, cachaça and carnival. But, first of all, he would have to know our most popular dish: feijoada. My suggestion.

We went to a small restaurant – here in Liberdade – that serves feijoada every Wednesday. We sat at a small tin table and ordered three complete dishes. I was already licking my lips.

When the food arrived, the boy looked a little strange. He didn't seem to like what he saw. I explained to him – we spoke in English – that it was pork, pork sausage, black beans and white rice, basically.

But he didn't swallow it. So I told him to add farofa, vinaigrette and kale to add more color to the dish. Not yet.

This made me upset. I felt he was very fresh. Now, the guy eats grasshoppers, bee larvae and raw fish; and don't eat black beans with pork?

Seriously, dear reader, he looked at the table as if the plate were a puddle of mud. And, after he saw the laurel leaf floating, he came to absolute certainty.

While my friend and I “wallowed” in our feijoadas, he preferred to stick to kale. A real fresh one. I would have to have blood sausage for dinner because I ignored the feijoada. If I went to Japan, I would even eat jellyfish stew, in a good way – I think.

So I had the idea of ​​appealing to something more playful. I asked the waiter for a small glass of cachaça and a peeled orange. I instructed the boy to drink the cachaça, eat the feijoada and, finally, suck the orange. In this order.

But, after cachaça, he quickly switched to orange. I explained to him again that, between one and the other, there was the feijoada dish. And he refused once again.

My insistence is sometimes maddening, I admit. So I insisted that he only eat a small piece of sausage, not to say that he didn't eat anything. But he was also insistent, and refused.

Luckily, my friend – a cordial guy – was more skillful with the situation. I told him not to force himself to eat because, later, if he wanted, we would stop by a ramen place on the corner.

The boy didn't say anything to us and didn't make any gesture of relief, but it was clear that a little bit of “Phew!” of your lungs.

Furthermore, given the possibility of lunch, he also seemed more flexible and agreed to eat a small piece of sausage. We are very happy for your courage.

And there he went: he pulled a huge slice from the middle of the beans. He cut off a small piece and put it in his mouth. Chewed. He looked surprised. He thought it was delicious... And he thought he was going to eat more!

"Frog! See? Experimenting doesn't take away a piece from anyone. And you liked it, right, look!?!”, I told him this, in Portuguese, while he happily chewed.

But, when the boy turned the roundelona over to check it out better, he noticed that there were, right in the middle of the piece, two little holes, one next to the other. And that's when he gave up for good. It was the tip of the pig's snout.

© 2017 Hudson Okada