“You have a little bit of food on your face,” says one of the students sitting next to me. As I swipe away the offending blotch I wonder: Could this be the gelatinous sheep blood or the cow stomach? The thought leaves my mind as I move to shovel more chicken legs into my bowl of garlic sauce and vinegar.

I have reached a new stage in my culinary experience: The “I honestly don’t care what this is, or where it came from” stage. And it’s a good stage to be at, especially in China. The food here really is amazing, mouth-watering and flavorful. But before you can truly enjoy it, you have to put certain reservations aside.

First, you have to acknowledge that you will be eating unfamiliar animals, and unfamiliar parts of animals that are already familiar. Rat, snake, horse, camel and basically all of the animals of the Chinese zodiac (save for the dragon) are considered fine dining. I saw a booth by the side of the road yesterday that specialized in scorpions, tarantulas and various other insects, and though it might well have been for the novelty, there seemed to be no shortage of customers. In addition, bones, claws, stomachs, intestines and even full animal heads are all fair game. I have eaten more kinds of animals here than you can find on one of those “the cow goes Moo” toys for children, and I conclude, the human goes, “Mmmmmm”.

Before PETA gets on me, however, I will note that before traveling to China, I really was mostly a vegetarian. So much so, in fact, that for the sake of convenience, I told people I didn’t eat meat. In practice, this policy had quite a few exceptions, including chicken, well-cooked bacon and taco meat.

However, PETA, I have something to share: It is impossible to be a vegetarian, or even quasi-vegetarian, in China. Chinese chefs manage to put meat in every conceivable edible substance, preparing dishes running the gamut from meat-stuffed bread to meat-stuffed meat. There are indeed quite a few vegetables, but they are prepared in the oil of some meat and often taste like meat themselves. I had some almond milk yesterday, and even that tasted like meat.

I have found myself having to expand my meat horizons in China. Chicken here is very different, and actually, probably the least flavorful of the meats. I have found lamb, and I love it. It may be extremely cute when alive, but it is extremely tender when dead. On the weird parts of animals front, blood, in pudding form, is both whimsical AND delicious.

Another fact that I have learned to accept is that the majority of restaurants in this country can barely meet the food sanitation standards of China, to say nothing of more stringent American codes. While I was troubled by this at first, I now attend to street side shops without much of a wince. Of course, I still show a bit of discretion, but for the most part I accept that food here just isn’t that clean most of the time.

I noticed in the past week that various restaurants around the corner were undergoing construction, all at the same time, and were all temporarily closed for several days. I asked one of the shop owners why they were closing, and he informed me that they were undergoing health inspections. But my response was more frustration than concern: The place where I used to get those tasty meat buns was closed, and I would have to look somewhere else!

I was mostly kidding, but there are many questionable yet tasty food options in China. If there is one lesson China has taught me, it is that food can be sold out of everything from the back of a truck to the back of a bicycle and still taste very delicious.

These roadside shops can suffice for a quick snack, but for a longer meal, one needs to check out hot pots and barbecues. Hot pots, or “huo guo” are massive feasts of Chinese delicacies, prepared do-it-yourself style in a steaming and boiling pot right at your table. While often dangerous, the delectable food is more than worth the second-degree burns you might very well incur while trying to eat it. It is also relatively healthy, as most Chinese food is fried. Weird food abounds, but your personal bowl of sauce will cover any odd tastes you might find. These restaurants are also great for large numbers of people: I took my class of 15 people out to dinner last night to one of these, without any trouble.

Barbecues, on the other hand, are a lot less formal. You pick which meat you want at the door, and skewers are delivered to your table with no questions asked. With a price of one yuan (about 13 cents) per skewer, you can get very full very fast. And, if you can get used to the view that fat on your meat is a treat, you’re in for a Chinese Halloween!

Add to all of this that food is very, very cheap. If you avoid costly outlets such as the stately KFC and the palatial Pizza Hut (seriously, I saw one yesterday outfitted with a full mock-art deco interior), you won’t be spending more than three American dollars a day on good food.

I still have three weeks ahead of me in China, and roughly 50 meals, and I couldn’t be more excited. With my newfound policy toward Chinese food, I should enjoy all 50 even more than I have my previous Chinese meals. And, as bad as this may sound, I hope to wipe much more sheep blood from my face in the weeks to come.