5 Most Disgusting Things to Eat in West Virginia State

To locals, these dishes are a proud badge of heritage and the ultimate rustic comfort foods. To the uninitiated tourist, they sound—and often look—completely wild, dangerous, or just plain repulsive.

Here is a breakdown of the most wonderfully weird and outwardly disgusting things you can eat in West Virginia.

1. Squirrel Gravy

In the steep, isolated hollers of Appalachia, hunting small game wasn't a hobby; it was how families survived the winter. Squirrel hunting remains a massive tradition in West Virginia, and the undisputed best way to eat it is slow-cooked, shredded, and turned into a thick, peppery white gravy served over biscuits.

• Why outsiders hate it: You are essentially eating a tree rat. Because squirrels are so small, the meat is famously full of tiny, sharp bones, and it is not uncommon for older, traditional recipes to include the brain or serve the gravy with the skull still sitting in the pot.
• Why locals love it: When properly slow-cooked, squirrel meat is incredibly tender and carries a sweet, nutty flavor (thanks to their diet of acorns and hickory nuts) that you simply cannot get from chicken or pork. Poured over a hot, buttery biscuit, it is the ultimate Appalachian morning comfort.

2. Poke Sallet (The Poisonous Weed)

Every spring, West Virginians head into the woods and along the roadsides to forage for pokeweed (often pronounced "poke sallet"). It is a leafy green plant with bright magenta stalks. The catch? The entire plant is highly toxic and will cause violent illness if eaten raw.

• Why outsiders hate it: Visually, it looks like a pile of wet, dark green yard clippings. Conceptually, eating a weed that requires you to boil it three separate times—changing the water each time to literally wash the poison out—sounds like a massive, unnecessary risk to most modern diners.
• Why locals love it: It is an age-old marker of spring. Once safely boiled, the greens are pan-fried in hot bacon grease and sometimes scrambled with eggs. They take on a rich, earthy flavor somewhere between spinach and asparagus, and perfectly represent the Appalachian ethos of living off the land.

3. Souse (Head Cheese)

Hog-killing time in rural West Virginia meant absolutely zero waste. Souse—more commonly known as head cheese—was created to use up the parts of the pig that couldn't be cured or ground into sausage. We are talking about the snout, ears, lips, and cheeks.

• Why outsiders hate it: The texture is a nightmare for the uninitiated. It is quite literally chunks of chewy, cartilage-heavy pig face suspended in a block of clear, wobbly meat jelly (created from the natural collagen in the skull). Meat shouldn't jiggle.
• Why locals love it: Souse is heavily seasoned with vinegar, pepper, and sometimes pickling spices, giving it a bright, intensely tangy flavor. Sliced thin and served on a saltine cracker with a heavy smear of yellow mustard, it is a sharp, savory snack that pairs perfectly with a cold beer.

4. Wild Ramps

While high-end chefs in cities now pay a premium for ramps, they have been a humble, everyday staple in West Virginia for generations. They are wild leeks that grow in the shaded, damp Appalachian forests every April, and the state throws massive community ramp dinners to celebrate their arrival.

• Why outsiders hate it: The smell. Ramps look innocent enough, but they pack a pungent odor that is a hyper-concentrated hybrid of garlic and onions. The smell is so deeply potent that if you eat a large plate of them, the odor will literally seep out of your pores through your sweat for days. Historically, school children were sent home if they showed up smelling like ramps.
• Why locals love it: The flavor is incredibly unique and entirely addictive. When chopped up and fried in a skillet with bacon grease and fried potatoes, they become deeply savory, buttery, and sweet.

5. Gas Station Pickled Eggs & Sausages

Drive down any winding country road in West Virginia and step into an independent gas station or convenience store. Sitting right next to the cash register, unrefrigerated, you will likely find a massive glass jar filled with a murky, neon-red liquid. Floating inside are boiled eggs and cheap meat sausages.

• Why outsiders hate it: The visual is terrifying. Staring into a dusty jar of room-temperature, rubbery eggs dyed an unnatural shade of bright pink by a vat of spicy vinegar brine is the opposite of appetizing to most travelers.
• Why locals love it: Originally packed in coal miners' lunch pails because they wouldn't spoil deep underground, these pickled snacks are a legendary Appalachian convenience food. The vinegar bite cuts through the rich fat of the sausage, while the dense, acidic egg provides a massive hit of cheap, spicy protein on a long road trip.