If tripe was in high school, he would be the loner who was misunderstood and who everyone avoided.  He didn’t fit in with the big porterhouse steaks because he could not measure up to their size, but yet he felt too gangly for the delicate foie gras.  Nonetheless, his family always knew that underneath that awkward and tough exterior, there was an amazing person with a soft and generous heart.  Everyone who actually got to know him knew that he was special.  Luckily for me, tripe was always a welcome dinner guest at my dinner table when I was growing up.  And now, it is time to share my love of him with the world.

First off, terminology: tripe is the inner lining of an animal (cow, pig, sheep, goat) stomach.  I grew up eating mostly beef tripe, which is the type I prefer.  Beef tripe consists of the rumen (smooth), the reticulum (honeycomb texture), and the omasum (leafy).  My personal favorite is the honeycomb portion because it is the most tender and has nooks and crannies which are the perfect hiding places for sauce.  I also find the geometric pattern on the surface very beautiful.  Nature proves again that she can make art before humans even knew that art existed.

I imagine that the first people who ate and truly enjoyed tripe were poor and needed to make use of every last part of a freshly-killed cow.  Perhaps that is why you find tripe used the most in cultures that traditionally eat every edible part of an animal.  Nonetheless, it is food darwinism at work: if something is not delicious, people would not pass it on to further generations as part of their cuisine.  Tripe in particular is not just eaten for utilitarian reasons nowadays; it has become a familiar staple and sight in many cuisines because of its unique qualities to absorb flavor.

To me, tripe is amazing because is can soak up whatever sauce, soup, or stew that you put it in and then pass it on to your mouth when you bite into it.  Tripe extends the flavor of that sauce beyond just a taste.  It is a way to savor and give texture to a liquid that would otherwise pass through your mouth in one gulp.  If you find tripe too weird, too soft, or too strange, try thinking of it as a tool as described above.

Since I do not typically cook tripe, the second half of this post will consist of my five favorite tripe dishes in NYC.

5) Pho Tai Nam Gan Sach at Pho Pasteur in Chinatown (85 Baxter St)

Noodles and tripe form a delicious marriage, especially when it is accompanied by such a rich and mouth-watering souop base.

4) Tablier de Sapeur at DBGB Kitchen in LES (299 Bowery)

Asian-style tripe is served soft and tender, but I find that the crispy tripe at DBGB is a welcome contrast in texture.  There is still abundant flavor cooked into the tripe, just with more of a crunch.

3) Steamed Tripe during Dim Sum at Golden Unicorn (18 East Broadway)

Although the tripe is steamed, the garlicky sauce gives it plenty of kick.  The tripe is leafy, not honeycomb, which also gives it more of a chew (for those of you who dislike the soft texture).

2) Tripe Soup at Karczma Polish Restaurant in Brooklyn (136 Greenpoint Ave.)

This tripe soup is worth at least 2 subway transfers to Brooklyn, for it is not only cheap ($4), but the peppery tomato and broth-based soup is one of the best I have ever tasted.  It is the perfect thickness and almost more like a stew than a soup.

1) Spicy Beef Tongue & Tripe at Grand Sichuan 74 in the Upper West Side (307 Amsterdam Ave.)

Not that I am biased, but this traditional Sichuan dish is my favorite way to eat tripe.  The tripe is cut very thin, so that you get a nice dose of sichuan peppercorn sauce in each bite.  The chinese parsley served on top serves as both a bright and fresh contrast to the sauce and a wonderful palette cleanser.

If you have had any of the above dishes, please share your comments/thoughts.  Also, if you have any suggestions for other great tripe dishes, please let me know!