I have loved balut since I was a child. I love the ritual of eating it—cracking a tiny hole on top and slurping the steaming hot soup bursting with umami flavor, adding a pinch of rock salt and a drizzle of spicy vinegar into the little hole, then tearing through the egg shell to get to the meaty prize within: the soft fleshy duckling hugged by a savory yolk.

Some say disgusting, I say delicious. Balut (that's a fertilized duck egg, for the uninitiated) is one of the things I miss the most about the Philippines. On my visits, coming across a balut vendor is always one of the highlights. On a road trip to Sagada last year, one of my favorite memories was hitting up the balut stands in every bus stop. There aren't many things that I'll wake up for at 3am, but a balut sign is one of those things. 

So when Pinoy food phenom Maharlika announced it was holding a balut-eating contest at its Dekalb Market outpost, I signed up in a flash. As far as I'm concerned, getting to eat as many pieces of balut as I can swallow is already a prize in itself—but wouldn't it be cool to win?

I have absolute faith in my ability to consume more balut than anyone largely because I have to restrain myself from having too much. I know from experience that just 3 baluts eaten in a row already delivers a mean cholesterol-induced headache, so I usually hold back. This being a once-in-a-lifetime experience and all, though, I'm willing to endure the king of all food comas to go for gold.

But my main handicap is that I am probably one of the slowest eaters on this earth. I like slowly savoring my food—even balut, come to think of it. I horrify my family when I eat balut at home because I like to dissect it with a fork and knife, and make sure every bite is equally coated in salt and vinegar. It has resulted in my unwittingly flinging about a fork with a perfectly seasoned duckling head impaled on it while engrossed in telling some story. But this quirk of mine, while sadistically entertaining (to me), is not going to help me win any eating contests.

That said, I am a determined little girl, so who knows what'll happen? We'll just have to wait and see. Maharlika's first annual balut eating contest is happening in Dekalb Market on August 25. There will also be a $30 prix fixe meal on offer featuring, not balut, but authentic Cebuano lechon prepared by a lechon roast master who will be flown in from the lovely province of Cebu. If there's one thing that's truly a threat to my winning this contest, it's my overwhelming desire to also stuff my face with roasted pig stuffed with lemongrass, garlic and magic. Hmm. One more thing I've got to work on.