Living overseas as a military family provided us with unique opportunities to learn about various cultures firsthand. Sampling local cuisine was a necessary part of the experience, of course. But many Americans won’t take risks with food, and miss out on this particular aspect of their overseas adventure.

The pervasiveness of McDonald’s provides a safe haven for those whose taste buds are timid, and some only leave their flavor comfort zone for safe regional dishes like pizza margherita, crepes with Nutella and schnitzel with pommes frites.

While our family certainly ducked into European McDonald’s restaurants to hit the bathroom on occasion, my husband and I encouraged (well, forced) our family to taste the foods of Europe. This philosophy was not without its drawbacks, however, and before long, we accumulated a host of interesting (well, nauseating) tales.

At a modern cafe just outside of Stuttgart, Germany, my meat-loving husband ordered the “wurst salat” envisioning a chef salad with savory sausages over fresh mixed greens. What he received was devoid of plant-based food, unless you count the thick rings of sliced raw onions, which were tossed with cold julienned meat similar to bologna.

During a spring break trip in Spain’s Costa Brava, I ordered fish at a restaurant overlooking the azure Mediterranean Sea. As the waiter set the dish before me, I could almost hear Big Mouth Billy Bass singing “Take Me to the River” as it stared at me from the plate.

On a fall excursion to Berchtesgaden, our friend visiting from the States ordered the “Leberknodelsuppe” simply because it was fun to say. We all giggled and repeated the tongue-twisting word until a bowl of the stuff was presented to the table. A lumpy gray dumpling sat in a hot broth bath, and although the color looked a bit sickly like the hide of a dead shark, we kept an open mind. Cutting into the doughy ball, its pungent metallic aroma clued us in on what should have been obvious from the start – “leber” is liver, and this little dumpling was full of that particularly unpopular organ meat.

No matter how touristy, one cannot escape getting caught up in the festive atmosphere at the Hofbrauhaus in Munich. Part of the experience is ordering the giant liter of beer and a heaping helping of hearty Bavarian food. Swinging my stein to and fro, I thought nothing of ordering “Schweinshaxe,” a Bavarian specialty. With no idea that I’d be served a huge roasted pig’s knuckle, I soon learned that it would take significant effort to extract the morsels of pork that were tangled among cartilage, skin and bone.

On a day trip to Strasbourg, France, our family stopped at an outdoor restaurant on a lovely cobblestone square. Interested in the mix of German and French cultures, I ordered “Sûrkrût Royale,” an Alsatian sauerkraut dish.

Twenty minutes later, I was presented with a steaming heap of sauerkraut, with at least seven different varieties of pork cuts, as well as potatoes, onions and dumplings, nested among its pickled strands. Wursts and slices of loin were among the few meats I could recognize, but the rest of the pieces were unidentifiable chunks intertwined with plentiful amounts of fat and sinew. Despite my initial squeamishness over the gelatinous fat, the scent of bacon and white wine gave me the courage to give it a try, and I found it to be quite a delectable treat as long as I kept my eyes closed.

The list of our family stories goes on, and includes tales of local foods we discovered while stationed in Florida (boiled peanuts, sweet tea, alligator) and Rhode Island (stuffies, coffee cabinets, johnnycakes). Despite the queasiness that springs forth when we recall these tales, we will always try indigenous cuisines. Why? Because we discovered Belgian-style mussels in creamy beer broth, spicy Croatian cevapi, hearty Portuguese sopas and many more culinary treats. Every delicious regional dish we stumbled upon made it worth every fish head, slab of fat and organ meat that made its way to our table.

So, Buen Provecho, Smacznego and Bon Appetit! But don’t forget to pack the Alka Seltzer, just in case.

Read more at themeatandpotatoesoflife.com and in Lisa’s book, “The Meat and Potatoes of Life: My True Lit Com.” Email: meatandpotatoesoflife@gmail.com