Chilateada in Izalco - Easter Monday

Is Easter Monday a thing? I don't think it is but I'm making it into a thing. It's certainly treated as one here in Izalco, El Salvador where the Monday of the Easter week is the last day during the whole Easter festivities extravaganza when chilate is made and served to the hungry pilgrims traveling long distances to pay their respects to Christ. If you don't know what chilate is see previous posts. Today, a pick-up load of SS city dwellers, aka myself and some others including my abuela, made the journey to Izalco to observe our pious duties. And there we were, inside this little white and purple church listening to a wailing rendition of Ave María being blasted from some old speakers, stomachs rumbling, mouths watering and eyes burning from the combination of pine incense for the deities and wood fires used to prepare the chilate for us mortals. I think we got the better end of the deal.

It is customary to pay your respects to Christ i.e. make a donation to the church, before approaching the food area. Once this is done and you have received proof of payment in the form of a sticky coconut palm flower, you can casually make your way over to the kitchen area and observe, maybe even participate in, the cooking process. I had never seen this being done so I was intrigued to see the whole process of grinding, pounding, soaking, straining, flavoring and finally cooking. It was impressive to see the sheer quantity of maize flour that was being moved from one station to the next. Once the maize has been ground and pounded, it is soaked in water to produce a milk-like liquid. This is then strained using cheese cloth or muslin and the liquid is cooked in large pots over an open fire. When the liquid is finally of cooked and thick enough, you can exchange your stick coconut palm flower for a portion of delicious goodness. Chilate is served hot in little bowls with a serving of local sweets. You can get an idea of what the preparation process looks like below:

Straining the 'corn milk'

Heating and stirring. These are not a tiny women.

Unfortunately for us the chilate was not ready when we arrived and even after walking around Izalco, we were not patient enough to wait another hour. Attempts at chasing the Easter processions were unsuccessful and a Salvadoran democratic decision was made (interpret this as you like). We made our way to Sonsonate wanderlusting after food and more adventure. It's always nice to visit the little towns and view the sites. It is sometimes very easy to forget the beauty of the changing landscapes, lava fields, sprouting sugar cane, volcanoes and colonial churches given the current social situation, and it is nice to be reminded.

Main Izalco church and the Volcan de Izalco in the background.

Manila

If roads and highways are the veins of city, Manila's main arteries are clogged like those of a man who sits on his squishy throne all day snacking on crackers topped with butter, pate, camembert and roquefort, plus a Glaswegian scooby snack* on the side. For dinner he asks for a 16oz steak, french fries and a liter of diet coke. Outside his golden palace of delicious goodies lies a wasteland of high rise buildings, next to haphazardly built slums with open sewage systems and giant knots of electric wires. There is a constant hum of traffic, punctuated by shouts and blaring horns as individual cells make their way about their busy lives, selfishly pushing, inching forward one creaking minute at time. 

Meet Manila, one of the most densely populated (and one of the most badly planned) cities of Asia. You might think I don't like this giant capital, and you're right, I don't. I find it difficult to summon any kind of enthusiasm for a city which completely disregards much (if not all) of its potential for long term, socially relevant growth, choosing instead to focus on personal and economic gain. Don't get me wrong, the city is physically growing and it does invest in new globally fluid projects like shopping malls with huge international retailers and ultra modern apartment buildings with exquisitely designed interiors. These are blind projects though – less than 5% of the population can actually afford such luxuries.

Anyway, who wants another mall with the same shops and restaurants when schools haven’t been renovated since the 70s and hospitals are largely inaccessible in the heart of the city? Instead of investing in health and education, the city invests in glossy advertising to improve its image, like make-up can be used to create the illusion of high cheekbones and delightfully youthful skin. While Manila is far from being the only city in the world which uses such tactics to mask its skewed priorities, it is probably one of the most transparent. And when you’re stuck in hours of traffic with nothing better to do than to look at the people and buildings around you, decades’ worth of easily fixable mistakes glaring at you, you can’t help but become frustrated and disillusioned with the world around you.

If trees are the lungs of the city, this man has none, opting instead to fill the blackened cavern in his chest with exhaust fumes and airborne by-products of industrial waste. He takes delight in the pockets of combustion smoke which settle in each tunnel, each underpass, as stalled cars, motorcycles, trucks and buses wait like prisoners in line for their execution. Why should they care if their actions negatively affect others? Their own lives are too short.

  

* A Scooby Snack is a type of hamburger sold in Glasgow. It holds a hamburger patty, square sausage, bacon, potato scone, a fried egg and a slice of processed cheese, served with a hamburger bun, tomato ketchup and brown sauce. Two bites from one of these babies and you're set for the week. Seriously. If you're in Glasgow and interested in trying one out, keep an eye out for The Maggie, a white food van which usually hangs out at the the entrance of the Glasgow Botanics at the top of Byres Road in the West End. 

Cycling through Riesling country

Drying lavender, ED 2014

Before coming to the Philippines, I spent some time in Germany cleaning, fixing  and weather proofing windows and furniture as well as gardening, harvesting and drying something like 300 lavender plants. It's surprisingly nice to sit on a hill of lavender surrounded by bumble and honey bees gently ignoring you as they go about the very important task of gathering nectar for their hives. Honey bees are pretty harmless, and won't commit suicide by stinging you as long as you don't approach them in an aggressive manner. One of these days I hope to convince my parents to add a beehive to their garden, but that's a ways away yet.

I'm afraid the German country side isn't in the top 20 summer destination of 2014, nor does it have the romantic appeal of French or Italian countryside but that's quite alright with me. The days are warm, the sun comes out during the day, and we have the most magnificent summer thunderstorms in the evenings. Thick forests and cool freshwater lagoons offer relief from the heat and you can feed yourself off countless fruit trees and berry bushes. If you're really interested, you can follow the fruit trails all the way into Riesling country, either by cycling or navigating along the Mosel river from Koblenz to Trier (app. 200km) and beyond.

Unlike the Rhein which is a busy highway of cargo and heavy transport ships, the Mosel river is winding country road which offers views of countless rows of wine vineyards. The best time to cycle along the river is in the morning before 11 or after 3 as dusk begins to settle. At these times the heat is not as severe and you will save yourself having to collapse in the mid-day sun  under a withered dry tree offering sparse shade. If this does happen however, rest assured no one will bother you, although at least try to make sure you are on the river bank so you can enjoy a quick dip when you wake up.

People in this part of Germany are very friendly and for the most part helpful - maybe they're used to seeing lots of lost cyclists wandering the streets of their towns. The towns themselves like Zell for example, are beautiful and small, paved with cobble stones and full of old establishments each offering samples of the best wine in the valley. If you find yourself in Zell, watch out for the legendary black cat (Zeller schwarze Katz) which protects the wine of the area from thieving merchants.

The food on offer along the river, is simple and filling German cuisine. If you are staying in a hotel that does breakfast in the morning, think muesli, fruit, yogurt, wild honey, perfectly prepared soft-boiled eggs, German rye bread, nutella and selection of cold cuts (cheeses, hams, cucumber and tomato). To be honest, this was the best breakfast I have ever had at a hotel. I have never been so excited over a selection of four different kinds of German bread, three different kinds of honey, and perfect soft-boiled eggs buried in sand. Moving on to lunch, if you can stomach it after your filling and nutritious breakfast, summer is the season for delicious pfifferlinge (otherwise mushrooms or chanterelles) which are lightly cooked with butter and a pinch of salt and pepper, served over toast or pasta. Alternatively you can enjoy some flammkuchen, or tarte flambee, a thin-crusted Alsatian pizza of sorts topped with creme fraiche, thinly sliced onions and bacon. Fortunately, some taverns now also offer vegetarian alternatives which saves some the tedious hassle of picking off the tiny bits of bacon. Finally if you're starving for grub at dinner time after your 60km cycle sans lunch, a generous portion of potato, sausage and onion casserole awaits you next to a pint of wheat or white beer. Alternatively, a leafy goat's cheese salad with a glass of Riesling will also do. After this you're off to bed for a good night's rest before an early start the next day.

Cycling selfie, CD 2014

Emadatse recipe - Bhutanese national dish

I recently went on a trip that took me through the Omani desert decked out in a complete winter outfit - fluffy pink winter jacket and everything. Sounds mad fun right? Between the flip-flop wearing, pungently aromatic tourists and the oudh scented and elegantly dressed Omanis in full length dishdashas and abayas, I stuck out like pink shrimp in a dry desert. For those of you thinking I must have terrible foresight for not having chosen to wear more suitable clothing upon leaving the mild British winter in the middle of February, well, I was on my way to see the recently snow covered peaks of the Himalayas. I needed my pink fluffy jacket. It is also because of this pink fluffy jacket that I made friends on that leg of the journey. I now have a number to call if I ever need to organize fireworks for a wedding or a place to stay in Jordan.

The journey itself was long but uneventful. After flying the London-Muscat-Bangkok-Paro-Bangkok-Muscat-London route however, I am beginning to realize that I like the whole process of travelling less and less despite enjoying the exploration of various countries, cultures, languages and foods more and more. I sense that if teleportation is not invented soon I might have to resort to some other means of travel. Kayak for example. Now that sounds like an adventure.

Anyway, despite the horrors of flying and being groped at security checks, I did arrive in Bhutan in one piece and made it safely back to London to tell the story. I will be updating those interested about my adventures in Bhutan, but at a later time. For now, I will ease you into the Bhutanese frame of mind by leaving you with a deliciously spicy recipe for emadatse, the Bhutanese national dish of cheese and chilies. Enjoy!

Ingredients:

• 1 thinly sliced onion
• 3 Tbsp oil
• 5 cloves crushed garlic
• 500g soft fresh cheese*
• 1-2 tomatoes - thinly sliced
• 500g green or jalapeno chilies
• 1 cup water
• 2 Tbsp butter

Optional spices:

• 1/4 Tsp turmeric
• 1 Tsp sichuan pepper
• 1 pinch cinnamon
• 1 inch of fresh grated ginger
• Salt

Method:

- Prepare chilies by slicing length wise into quarters and de-seeding if deemed necessary. (Beware of chili juices on fingers when touching other sensitive areas e.g. nose and eyes). (I did remove the seeds this time and the resulting dish is pleasantly spicy and full of flavour. Judging by the look of fear and horror on my flatmates' faces when presented with a bowl full,  this might not be everyone's opinion, so proceed as you best see fit). Set chilies aside and slice other veg. 

- On a low heat, fry thinly sliced onions in oil with optional seasoning until soft and fragrant. Add crushed garlic and thinly sliced tomatoes. 

- After one minute, add sliced chilies and stir fry until bright green (1-2 min). Add 1 cup of water and allow to boil.

- Add 2 tbsp of butter, salt and soft cheese, stir well, cover and simmer until chilies are thoroughly cooked and tender.

- Serve!

This dish is traditionally served with red rice and yak meat, but it can also be combined with eggs and rice for breakfast, on buttered toast as a snack, with spinach and pasta for lunch or boiled potatoes for dinner. The options are endless...

* Ideally, you would use a type of fresh yak's cheese for this dish. Since yak cheese is not readily available anywhere outside of the Himalayas however, I went for a combination of ricotta and turkish peynir. It's up to you what kind of cheese you go for, but you're looking for something with a mild flavour that melts nicely and makes a smooth paste which does not harden when cooled. Cream cheese with bits of feta also works.

Portugal - Caves and Dinosaurs

Seriously beautiful caves, dinosaurs footprings, markets full of goat cheese, fresh olives, figs, absolutely massive food portions, port, 65 centavos for an espresso, 1 euro for a beer - who wouldn't want to live in Portugal?

Part of the fun of visiting new countries for me is the excitement and delight of tasting everything. Nothing beats going to a bakery, or a pasteleria in this case, first thing in the morning before people head off to work to join the line of old men standing hunched over the wooden counter enjoying their bica (espresso). The owner of the establishment doesn't even blink at the sight of two foreign girls timidly tinkling their way into the shop. He simply makes us two bicas and places them on the counter, gesturing they are for our consumption. Some pasteis de nata and orange pastries later, we head back to the science center for serious linguistic conversations.

Centro Ciencia Viva do Alviela is a science center situated on the Praia Fluvial dos Olhos d'Agua do Alviela (The fluid beach of the eyes of the Alviela waters - is the literal translation, but basically it sits next to a river which goes through a large natural park). The park itself is great for going on day treks, and the science center offers visitors a place to stay for very affordable prices, as well as light refreshements, and a themed ride for all members of the population who are over 1.2m tall. You get to ride an asteroid.

While staying at the science centre is very affordable, it can be difficult to access by anything other than car, and while it does offer some services, the one shops opening times are from 10:00-19:00. So it's best to come prepared. The nearby town Alcanena has plenty of shopping opportunities, bakeries, restaurants and wool shops to keep your heart content. The centre of the town is made up of an old church, a market which is open on weekends, and various hair dressers. 

All around this area are various caves, or grutas, such as Mira de Aire which are also worthwhile seeing, especially when you get to have a full five course dinner in one of these. I have a sneaky suspicion such dinners may only be for special occasions though. Even if you're not having a spectacular meal however, you will have spectacular views of underground rivers and fountains, and caves that are tactfully lit with warm light, and might even find some unique fossils and dinosaur teeth. 

Lastly, and by far my favorite experience were the dinosaur footprints. Driving another half hour north from Alcanena and Minde, towards a town called Fatima, you will get lost and end up going on a free urban tourist tour of rural Portugal. I'm not kidding, there are actually signs which sign post this route as the "urban tourist tour". It is a sweet little tour which takes you through old villages. You see plently of ancient olive trees, tiny houses and churches made of white stone squares which look like they could crumble into a pile at any moment, as well as sheep and cows. Eventually though, you will arrive at a derelict looking park with old iron structures representing sauropods, pay the three euro entrance fee and embark on the most exciting 40 minutes of your life. If you're into dinosaurs that is. Even if you are not that impressed by dinosaurs, you will be impressed by the view of the Portuguese country side from atop a high marble cliff, not to mention the fact that you actually get to step in dinosaur footprints. Your foot will be inside a giant dinosaur footprint. I'm excited just remembering the experience. I'm so excited I'm finding it very difficult to NOT write in caps. Definitely one of my top 100 experiences.

VISIT PORTUGAL!

Bangor and the Eisteddfod, Wales

I have shingles. Sigh. It is the most painful horrible thing ever and it is definitely making me hate Wales a tiny bit. And traveling. It is also making me question my fascination with traveling. One of these days I will post about the dangers of traveling, as well as my top ten countries worth visiting.

First, a bit on the magical Eisteddfod of Wales.

Pronounced es-TETH-vod, the Eisteddfod is a festival which takes place in Wales every year around the first week of August. It is a national festival, a time when all Welsh clans gather, travelling from all parts of the country, and even all parts of the world such as Welsh Patagonia, to celebrate and declare the strength and vitality of the Welsh language and culture. Within the grounds of the Eisteddfod, you are in a different world, a magical world of druids and bards, dragons and soothsayers. At least that is what I'm assuming it was like back in the 12th century when the festival tradition began. The druid tradition is still followed to the extent that ceremonial gatherings such as the awarding of the chair for poetry (an actual chair at that), is overseen by an Archdruid and her council of 150+ other druids, all dressed the part and all scholars of the Welsh language, music, or literature. Poetic bards are called upon to entertain the crowds with lyrical mastery between speeches at ceremonies. Dragon cheese and ale are popular (so good), and although there was no sign of any soothsayers, there was a mysterious procession of people shrouded in white with skeletal horse masks on.

While many traditions are of pagan origin, the stone circle left behind on site each year, many new ones have been incorporated over the years, such as the flamboyant giant of a pink tent at the centre of the grounds. It draws attention from all directions, screaming to be seen yet peacefully sitting amongst rolling green fields and white fluffy sheep. The festival is a very large event, one which requires a year's planning and fund-raising to organize. It is something for young and old, and refreshingly, it is something which all generations truly seem to enjoy taking part in. Young boys and girls eagerly practice their steps for the traditional clog dancing competitions, modern theater and art performances are available for viewing. Older people interact with non-Welsh tourists in Welsh taster classes, and even academic and political discussions are organized to debate the future of the Welsh language and culture. There is something very special about the way visitors of the Eisteddfod interact, the joy and laughter which permeats the air, and the general sense of acceptance of the self, the specially designated areas for children to run and scream and destroy things. A truly ingenious use of haystacks.

As an outsider it is really refreshing to see a culture within a larger nation which strives to maintain its identity, and enjoys doing so. My observations may be slightly skewed of course, but that is certainly what it feels like within the rose tinted tent.

 More information about next year's Eisteddfod can be found here.

Christmas - Tamales

'Tis the season to be jolly and eat like nobody's business. Already tummies are starting to swell with contented pies and cookies. Turkeys have been distributed (although this is really a North American tradition that has been adopted by Salvadorans), fragrant spices and oranges bought, festive pupuseadas organized, and pre-ordered tamales collected. The freezer has been filled with chilaquilas and chancletas alike, and various new years gifts, including calendars, cookies and pomelo fruits have been distributed to friends and family. I have yet to see mariachis though.

Traditionally, Christmas - although the more I think about it the more alien the concept of Christmas, the turkey, the presents, the pine tree, becomes. I seriously doubt the Pipiles, the Cacahuiles and the Lenca celebrated Christmas. They probably celebrated the end of the year though, much like the Maya did by building a fire pit to bid farewell to the old year and welcome the new dawn with a fresh bed of pine needles, rosemary and incense. But back to food and El Salvador. Sadly, not very much is known about the traditions of the indigenous people of El Salvador and traditional Christmas means nothing to me. I do know however that before the turkey revolution, it was customary to eat tamales.

Tamales come in various shapes, sizes and flavours. Each central american country has a version of its own, with its own unique combination of flavours. Generally though, a tamal consists of some sort of corn dough wrapped in a large leaf. Mexicans and Guatemalans enjoy dry tamales wrapped in corn husks. When unwrapped the inner dough is very bready and delicious with cream or cottage cheese. They make a great travel snack and are easily portable.

Salvadoran tamales are decidedly juicier. They take two days to make, and tamaleras - women who make tamales, are known for their upper body strength needed for the continuous mixing of the corn masa over an open fire. As well as the masa and the banana leaves which need to be prepared in advance, a chicken broth flavoured with tomatoes, potatoes, chickpeas, green olives, capers and raisins  is cooked on a low heat overnight. Then with a process also employed by pupuseras, the dough is skillfully shaped to resemble a canoe, filled with delicious broth, bits of chicken and vegetables, sealed, wrapped in banana leaves and finally, boiled for 30 minutes. The end result is a type of congealed pie filling nested within a packet of banana leaves which can be enjoyed on its own or with a side of tortillas.

Now, you might be thinking, "Salvadoran food is not very vegetarian friendly" and you would be right. It is not. However, the tamal offers one of those rare instances where a vegetarian option is available in the form of tamal de chipilín, chipilín being a little local herb I haven't quite got my head around yet. Although it is widely used in Central American and Mexican cuisine and has a pleasant enough taste, it is almost instantly forgetable. I could not, in fact cannot describe its flavour. Nevertheless, chipilín tamales are tasty and suitable for all except vegans. That's another story.

Beans

I like to think of El Salvador as the land of beans. The bean, particularly the Salvadoran red bean, is a very important staple in traditional Salvadoran food. It is a food which can be served as a side, a main, a dessert, and even a condiment to the ever popular pupusa. So the local saying goes "you can take away a poor man's meat but you can't take away his beans". At a first glance the trusty bean can even be said to be part of our national flag, the centre of Salvadoran peace and glory, the epitome of much love and adoration which has been bestowed on this staple food:

There it is, the heralded red bean, highlighted by the glow of the setting sun, underneath the pro-gay rainbow of peace. This however is just my personal interpretation. In reality this "bean" cap is actually the gorro frijio (not frijol), a Phrygian cap also known as the cap of liberty represented in Delacroix's Liberty Leading the People, and more popularly worn by the smurfs. Yes, a smurf cap features at the centre of my country's national shield. I prefer to think of the cap as a liberty bean. The bean that fed and supported the leftist guerilla movement 30 years ago. But let's not get political here.

Over the past month I have eaten green beans, white beans, black beans and best of all red beans. I have had them stewed, boiled, fried and blended, for breakfast, lunch and dinner in soups, tacos, rice, pies and salads. The abundance of beans in this country and its great nutritional value is one of the main reasons why the population remains so well fed and rotund. And my favorite bean combo to date? Bean puree fried with garlic and coriander served with a side of plantain. Trust me, it's delicious.

Pupusas, empanadas, and quesadilla

I love food and I harbor a deep mistrust for anyone who doesn't love or even appreciate food. How can you be dismissive of the very substance that feeds your body? So on that note here's a blog about Salvadoran food. Please excuse the phonetic nerdiness, it's been too long since I've had the chance to use my phonetic keyboard.

Tortilla - [tortiʝa] Corn is the foundation of Salvadoran cuisine and it is most consumed in the form of a tortilla. This is not the same as a an American or Mexican tortilla who given the popularity of TexMex (American-Mexican fusion) have switched over to the over-sized, bland flour tortilla found in most supermarkets today. Traditionally Mexican tortillas are small, thin, yellow, unleavened flatcakes made out of a mixture of yellow maize flour, water and salt, usually about the size of a tea saucer. Salvadoran tortillas on the other hand are made out of white maize flour, are still about the size of a tea saucer but much thicker, at just under a cm. They are usually eaten on the side with beans and plantain, or on their own with a dollop of fresh cottage cheese. Funnily enough, they taste just like white corn.

Pupusas - [pupusas] A bit of a boring word phonetically but it is the most typical Salvadoran dish, so tasty and delicious other Central American countries have tried to claim it as their own. Colombians and Venezuelans have something similar which they call arepas [aɾepas], but these are by far (at least in my opinion) inferior to our cheese stuffed tortillas. Even calling them calling them mere 'cheese stuffed tortillas' is a travesty on its own. Their most popular flavour is cheese and loroco, but other flavors include, red bean, pork, plain cheese, ayote (acorn squash), or a mixture of any of the above. For those with corn allergies, rice flour pupusas are also an option.

Shuco - [ʃuko] Another corn based food, this is an atol - a smooth, thick drink/soup. Shuko is generally made out of fermented black corn which gives this drink an unappetizing muddy purple appearance and as a result is often called chuco, the salvadoran word for 'dirty'. I won't lie, this is not a dish which I particularly like, but I have been told that it is one of those foods that taste better the more of it you eat/drink. It is usually drank out of a calabash bowl with a side of white bread to mop up the sour, fermented broth.

Empanadas - [eɱpanaðas] A bit of phonetics first, the [ð] = 'th' as in 'the'. Unlike its South American counterparts, Salvadoran empanadas are not pastries filled with beef, chicken or vegetables. Rather, they are more like plantain sausages stuffed with refried beans or custard. Delicious, but incredibly rich.

Poleada - [poliaða] Whereas empanadas can be considered as both a side and desert, poleada is definitely a dessert. It is made out of cinnamon and vanilla infused thickened milk and eggs. Once set, it is sprinkled with raisins and cinnamon and best eaten when still warm. This of it as a sweet but surprisingly light, vanilla-cinnamon mousse.

Quesadilla - [kesaðiʝa] Finally! something you recognize, but this is not the world-famous Mexican quesadilla which is basically a Mexican version of a grilled cheese sandwich. In El Salvador, quesadilla is a dessert, a sweet cheesy cake with sesame seeds, not to be confused with the American cheese cake. The quesadilla is sponge made out of a combination of parmesan, sour cream, eggs, sugar and flour and best enjoyed fresh out of the oven with a cup of strong coffee.

Nepali delicacies

I've reached that state of nostalgia for the previous country, so here goes a little commentary on some of Nepal's cuisine.


Momos - If I'm honest, momos are nothing to write home about, they are essentially a spicier curry version of chinese dumplings, usually stuffed with vegetable, chicken or buff meat. After returning from the momo festival complete with momorabilia (i <3 momos aprons, photos taken with the momo man), having tried sweet, salty, vegetarian, and fusion momos, I felt that the tastiest part of the momo was not the momo itself, rather the spicy sauce which accompanies it. A light, tomato based sauce which tricks you into dunking your momos to the fullest and stuffing them in your mouth before realizing its hella spicy. Amnesia is also a side-effect since 5 minutes after the fire gone down in your mouth you proceed to repeat the process all over again.

Chhurpi - extremely hard dried yak cheese with a stronger scent than flavour, which when you first pop it in your mouth tastes like swiss cheese with a hint of yak. Seriously. Imagine what a yak would taste like, kind of like the smell of a goat and a cow mixed together and you've got yak. So you pop it in your mouth, it's cut up into 1cm max 1.5 cm cubes, dark brown or yellow gray in colour, and you suck on it till it goes bland. I've been sucking on mine for a good ten minutes and tiny flecks are starting to crumble off the sides, but it still pretty much has the consistency of petrified cheese.

According to Wikipedia, chhurpi is a smoked cheese eaten in the Eastern Himalayas, very common among the Sherpas. It is made out of yak or chauri (cow-yak hybrid) buttermilk, which is pressed into a cloth and squeezed till no more juices remain. This is then allowed to dry until a cheese consistency is attained. After being cut up into tiny pieces, the little cubes are smoked senseless until the reach their petrified state. Twenty minutes later and I'm still breaking my teeth on this little cube. Tell you what though, normal yak cheese is tasty. Tastes like cheddar and bacon with the consistency of swiss cheese and a hint of dirt.

Curried potatoes - the sole reason I am surviving in this wretched country. I kid, this country isn't wretched. Only sometimes. Back to the potatoes though,  particularly curried potatoes baked, boiled, fried (I don't know what they do with them) to resemble butter. They melt in your mouth with such satisfying flavour, rich spicy, every so slightly bitter from karella (bitter melon) the medicinal herb used to cure all gastrointestinal diseases under the sun.  Bright yellow in color (the potatoes and their sauce) sometimes accompanied by dried pumpkin, another delicious treat, squishy and bursting with juices, and peas. How I miss these potato lunches.

Homeopathic Home remedies - Whenever I found myself suffering the side effects of street food, my landlady would sometimes bring me home made homeopathic concoctions to soothe my ailing stomach. The sweetest little lady who drove a hardbargain. Part of my overpriced flat's rent ensured that I could always make my way up those dark stairs into that dank curry smelling kitchen and she would make me a pot of herbalicious tea which would work its magic during the night and leave me fresh faced in the morning. Magic. On occasion when she was not at home, miso soup would work its magic. A slightly more drastic measure for getting rid of the bacteria, but miso soup certainly works wonders for the digestive tract. 

The art of making smoothies with a fork

Ingredients:

• 3 Tbsp of yogurt
• 1 banana
• juice (of your choice or whatever's available)
• honey (optional)
• fork (not optional)
• glass (also not optional)

The other day I came home from work craving a smoothie. And although there are plenty of cafés along the way, I neither like nor trust their smoothies. If you're drinking something which kind of tastes of ass with sugar added it's not really a good sign or wonderfully appealing to the taste buds. Therefore, I decided to make my own. With a fork. It's not like I have a blender, much less electricity to use the blender so I've had to improvise a bit.

In order to make this smoothie in Nepal you need a fork. And a glass or mug, or any receptacle with high enough sides to mash the banana against the sides with the fork at a high speed without spilling the banana puree onto the laminated kitchen floor. So you have your fork and glass, great, now you need to locate a hole in the wall which sells dairy products. Perfect, you found one. Buy yogurt. Now go across the street and buy those shriveled looking black things which they call bananas. Go ahead and buy six of them, it may take a bit of practice, or it may be so delicious you immediately want another.

You have the yogurt, bananas (a carton of juice would also be a good idea), a fork and glass, wonderful. Wash bananas. Yes, wash them. You don't want to get street bacteria on the wrong side of the banana peel. Now peel the banana, and cut up into small pieces in glass. Grab fork, mash banana into mush with fork until it resembles baby food. The best way to do this is to start slowly, making sure all large chunks of banana come between the prongs of the fork and the side of the glass. Increase speed until the banana is thoroughly mushed.

The hard part is over, now you can add the yogurt. Fill half way full, mixing banana and yogurt as you go along. When the two are completely combined, add juice and/or honey to taste, a little at a time to make sure everything is properly combined. The trick is to make it feel and taste like a smoothie so you really need to makes sure it's well mixed. You really don't want to come across random pieces of green banana as you're chugging this down. Once everything is combined and the contents of the glass are all th same colour, find your sunglasses and sunny corner to sit down in and enjoy the fruit of your labour with a spectacular view of the snow peaked mountains.

A Taste of Viet Nam

One of the things I go on and on about over here is Viet Nam. And how much I miss it. And while the best way of getting over someone, something or in this case somewhere, is to focus on other people, places or objects, I can't help but look back. A trigger happy finger resulting in a hard disk full of pictures and nothing to do during a blackout doesn't help the case much either. So I've decided to blog about Viet Nam. I may as well since Nepal is taking its time revealing its many secrets and wonders to me.

So I'm clicking through pictures and a photo of quay comes up. The asian salty version of a churro, deliciously crunchy on the outside, if ever so slightly greasy, and hollow on the inside. You leave it to soak in a bowl full pho' – a chicken or beef water based soup, with a delicate aroma of ginger, basil and spring onions – until it soaks up this savoury liquid. If you time it right, with that first bite you can experience the crispiness of the outside and the juicy chewiness of the inside all in one go. You can then counterbalance this with a slurp of the slippery rice noodles waiting patiently in your bowl, letting the rest of the quay soak up some more pho'.

Another wonderful dish is cha ka, fish cooked with lots of dill, spring onions, peanuts and a yellow slightly spicy sauce of some sort. This is sautéed on the spot, then combined with small portions at a time of cold rice noodles, fish sauce, chili, more peanuts and smelly feet sauce to taste. Smelly feet sauce is optional – it is a purple/gray fermented version of fish sauce which customarily has lime-orange juice and freshly chopped chili added to it when served. It is then stirred vigorously with chopsticks until it begins frothing and can then be used as a condiment for fried tofu, cold rice noodles or cha ka. At its most concentrated form it smells like feet to foreigners, hence why many Vietnamese now jokingly refer to it as smelly feet sauce.

One last dish to be described, and there are so many more of them which will have to wait until the next bout of nostalgia for Vietnamese food, is bun cha. Char-grilled flattened meatballs and slices of fatty beef, each street kitchen has it's own particular blend of flavours its customers diligently come back for. During lunch time those bbq smells can be traced back to a man wearing a face mask which does nothing against the clouds of black smoke engulfing him, crouched over a block of coals holding what appear to be two square sections of chicken wire clamped together with a makeshift handle. A closer look shows you the beef expertly threaded between the two wires, 5 dishes at a time being quickly and efficiently prepared over a cylindrical block of coal. When the meat is ready it is added to a bowl of diluted fish sauce, pickled carrots and green papaya and served hot with a basket full of soya sprouts and leaves (and I do mean leaves not herbs or salad – possibly of the hibiscus variety), and sticky cold rice noodles. Extra chili and garlic can be added to taste. Delicious.  

The stomach has landed

After 2 and a half weeks of peaceful coexistence my international intestinal flora and their Nepalese counterparts have declared war on each other deep in the cavernous trenches of my stomach. That's what I get for eating yogurt with the consistency of cheese, yet here I am again in that same establishment from where this yogurt cheese came, ordering that same dish. I'll learn one day. Then again, these little buggers should really learn to live with each other at one point or other, might as well get it out of the way now.

This week hasn't been too exciting so I don't have much to report. The skies have been gray, the morning's seem colder, and the new load-shedding schedule isn't as reliable as the last. Sunday brunch at Café Soma as usual after a relaxing yoga session at the Summit.