Instructions: I am like most Americans. In my house, "mystery meat" was meatloaf, and not very mysterious at that. I had heard that the French ate all manner of offal with relish. But I was shocked when, on my first trip to Spain, I not only ate parts of the animal I couldnt pronounce; I enjoyed them.

Im fortunate I did. Unless you want to order steak at every meal, its darn hard to avoid the lesser-known delicacies. If "callos" (tripe) were more elegant, it would certainly be known as the national dish. While every cook has his own recipe, callos is most often prepared by simmering garbanzo beans and tripe (stomach lining) in an aromatic sauce of sun-drenched tomatoes and local olive oil.

Though it takes time to become accustomed to the texture (chewy), the Spanish sop it up with a rustic loaf until they see the shining plate beneath. Unless you are native to the language, it is unlikely you will always know what you are eating. But you may just enjoy it.

I still savor the afternoon I stumbled into a small cafe and pointed to the dish my neighbor was obviously enjoying. After the first bite, I understood why.

The stew was crammed with the days catch, the sweet flavors of which were balanced by "morcilla," a homemade sausage made of blood, rice, and spices.

When I requested the bill, the waiter waived his hand in dismissal, announcing that he had served me the leftovers from his pensioners lunch.

For the adventurous, I recommend snacking on "orejas" (pigs ears)

or "cuello del rabo," a dainty joint of meat from the steers spine.

An evening tapa (snack) of "pulpo" (octopus), olive oil pooling in its suckers, is an experience not to be missed. If you plan to explore the north coast of Spain, I highly recommend a stop in the seaside city of San Sebastian

("Donastia" in the Basque language).

Ask the locals for directions to the citys market and park yourself in front of any one of the numerous butcher stands. I spent an entire morning watching, agog, as a butcher deftly slivered an entire calfs liver. Beef tongues swung from the rafters; pig knuckles pressed against the glass of the display case.

Tripe in tomato sauce was vacuum-packed and stacked in bricks for shoppers with traditional tastes and modern schedules. If you like to experiment, but prefer to do so in your own kitchen, pay a visit to a good local butcher. Though his larder will likely be more limited than that of his Spanish counterpoint, most delicacies can be procured with advance notice.

If you are a knuckle novice, buy a whole chicken, turkey, or duck, serve the breasts and thighs, and use the neck and giblets to make a stock. And remember the guiding principle of the courageous: what you dont know wont hurt you.

Buen Provecho! (Enjoy your meal!)

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