Years ago (in NYC,) I was with a Puerto Rican buddy of mine, and I was stoned or high or both, and agreed to follow him into some hispanic diner hole in the wall on Delancey Street.
He's ordering in his ethnic jibberish, while I'm trying to find the least repulsive looking food steaming away in trays.
I go for the meat.
After 30 seconds of jawing the tough "beef," and not recognizing the bones after a lifetime of eating beef, he tells me I'm eating horse spine.
After I regurgitated back onto the paper plate, I asked him what he was eating.
Pig ears - and the popping sound was when tooth pierced a deep fried cyst.
To this day, I prepare all my food by myself at home.