Sunday, March 22, 2009
MY DATE WITH A CHICKEN
I had been here a couple of weeks and desperately needed to eat some meat, so off I went, hunting for some chicken parts. I passed several markets where the chickens hung, ready for purchase, but just couldn’t bring myself to go that route. Growing up in Toronto, I know nothing about how to defeather and gut a bird, never mind trying to behead it.
I found what I thought were chicken pieces at a store that caters to Westerners, only to find that when I got it home, it was a whole chicken. No big deal. I buy them back at home. Except that unbeknownst to me, this chicken still had its head hanging on by a thread, its feet nicely bound and tucked up inside.
“I can handle this,” I thought. I’ll just ignore the head area, and work on cutting off a leg to at least salvage something from the purchase. Trouble is we didn’t have anything resembling a cleaver, so there I was, sawing away at this bird, trying to detach one of its feet. Needless to say, there was no severing to be had this night. Instead, I bagged up the chicken and gave it to my cleaning lady for her family. It was probably the right outcome, as I was told the next day that chances are if I had managed to get past the head and the attached feet, the organs would have likely still been inside.
So, what am I surviving on? I have to admit I’m staying away from a lot of the local food, not because it doesn’t taste good. It’s SPICY! One bite and I turn red and start sweating. Even when they tell you it’s not spicy, it is!
I have experimented with some deep fried squid and deep fried crab. That may not sound exotic to you, but as a kid, my only exposure to fish was canned tuna or fish sticks, so yes, deep fried squid, to me, is a little outside my comfort zone. But I have to say, I enjoyed the squid in particular and would order it again. Or perhaps it’s just that old saying that everything tastes better when it’s deep fried!
There’s certainly no shortage of deep fried goods here. The roadside stalls, warungs, thrive on selling greasy goods. There are deep fried bananas, deep fried tofu and, my favourite, deep fried tempe or soya beans. We can fool ourselves into thinking we’re eating healthy because the food underneath all that batter is actually good for us. And if we do want to eat well, there are plenty of fresh fruits and vegetables to be had. In fact, close to 80% of all waste here is organic. And it’s not just your run of the mill oranges and apples. You can come home laden with guava, papaya, mango, and if you’re brave enough, the dreaded durian. It kind of looks like a pointy cantaloupe, but stinks to the high heavens. I haven’t worked up the courage yet to try it. I think my first challenge will be to get into a real meat market and try for another date with a chicken.
I found what I thought were chicken pieces at a store that caters to Westerners, only to find that when I got it home, it was a whole chicken. No big deal. I buy them back at home. Except that unbeknownst to me, this chicken still had its head hanging on by a thread, its feet nicely bound and tucked up inside.
“I can handle this,” I thought. I’ll just ignore the head area, and work on cutting off a leg to at least salvage something from the purchase. Trouble is we didn’t have anything resembling a cleaver, so there I was, sawing away at this bird, trying to detach one of its feet. Needless to say, there was no severing to be had this night. Instead, I bagged up the chicken and gave it to my cleaning lady for her family. It was probably the right outcome, as I was told the next day that chances are if I had managed to get past the head and the attached feet, the organs would have likely still been inside.
So, what am I surviving on? I have to admit I’m staying away from a lot of the local food, not because it doesn’t taste good. It’s SPICY! One bite and I turn red and start sweating. Even when they tell you it’s not spicy, it is!
I have experimented with some deep fried squid and deep fried crab. That may not sound exotic to you, but as a kid, my only exposure to fish was canned tuna or fish sticks, so yes, deep fried squid, to me, is a little outside my comfort zone. But I have to say, I enjoyed the squid in particular and would order it again. Or perhaps it’s just that old saying that everything tastes better when it’s deep fried!
There’s certainly no shortage of deep fried goods here. The roadside stalls, warungs, thrive on selling greasy goods. There are deep fried bananas, deep fried tofu and, my favourite, deep fried tempe or soya beans. We can fool ourselves into thinking we’re eating healthy because the food underneath all that batter is actually good for us. And if we do want to eat well, there are plenty of fresh fruits and vegetables to be had. In fact, close to 80% of all waste here is organic. And it’s not just your run of the mill oranges and apples. You can come home laden with guava, papaya, mango, and if you’re brave enough, the dreaded durian. It kind of looks like a pointy cantaloupe, but stinks to the high heavens. I haven’t worked up the courage yet to try it. I think my first challenge will be to get into a real meat market and try for another date with a chicken.
Friday, March 13, 2009
Ever wonder what dog tastes like?
Betcha that got your attention!
I can't say that I have ever been even remotely curious about wanting to to know what dog meat tastes like. However, some people in this part of the world are, and in fact, eat dog kind of like others eat chicken.
I'm not kidding. I had dinner the other night with some of the national staff I work with. They come from other parts of Indonesia. For some reason we got talking about eating dog. This one friend's uncle and his family eat dog. Apparently black ones taste the best.
I was told they're not allowed to have dogs as pets. They can have them as guards for the house. But they're not allowed to pet them, or touch them, unless, I guess it's time to kill them and throw them on the barbeque!
When I asked what it tastes like? I was told---chicken. Why does everything always taste like chicken?
Maybe if I didn't know it was dog I was trying, I could eat it. Although I'm sure I would immediately gag upon hearing that I was eating someone's favourite pooch.
Makes me think twice about the rat I caught in my kitchen last night. Perhaps I should find a skewer?
I can't say that I have ever been even remotely curious about wanting to to know what dog meat tastes like. However, some people in this part of the world are, and in fact, eat dog kind of like others eat chicken.
I'm not kidding. I had dinner the other night with some of the national staff I work with. They come from other parts of Indonesia. For some reason we got talking about eating dog. This one friend's uncle and his family eat dog. Apparently black ones taste the best.
I was told they're not allowed to have dogs as pets. They can have them as guards for the house. But they're not allowed to pet them, or touch them, unless, I guess it's time to kill them and throw them on the barbeque!
When I asked what it tastes like? I was told---chicken. Why does everything always taste like chicken?
Maybe if I didn't know it was dog I was trying, I could eat it. Although I'm sure I would immediately gag upon hearing that I was eating someone's favourite pooch.
Makes me think twice about the rat I caught in my kitchen last night. Perhaps I should find a skewer?
Monday, March 9, 2009
What to do? What to do?
Okay, so here's the dilemma.
I was sitting out front reading this afternoon, and I saw this little hand reach through my gate, unlock it and then the young boy attached to the hand walked into the yard. He did not speak English. My Bahasa is not good. I could tell him I didn't understand what he was saying but he kept chattering away. Then he gestured towards his mouth, like he was hungry, and then held out his hand and said money. My heart went out to him. We have stickers on the outside posts that surround our houses, indicating which organization we work for, so I imagined him seeing those signs and thinking that he was in trouble and could seek refuge here.
I listened for awhile but then sent him on his way without anything. My concern was that if I helped him, gave him food or money, that word would spread, and the next thing I would know, I would have kids at my front door every day. But in the meantime, I didn't help this little fella. He had the biggest, softest brown eyes. He didn't look like he was starving. He had clean clothes on. His hair was washed. But I feel bad for doing nothing. At the same time, I can't open me or my organization up to beggers on the street. I feel like it was one of those moments when I had a chance to step up, to take a stance, and I failed.
I was sitting out front reading this afternoon, and I saw this little hand reach through my gate, unlock it and then the young boy attached to the hand walked into the yard. He did not speak English. My Bahasa is not good. I could tell him I didn't understand what he was saying but he kept chattering away. Then he gestured towards his mouth, like he was hungry, and then held out his hand and said money. My heart went out to him. We have stickers on the outside posts that surround our houses, indicating which organization we work for, so I imagined him seeing those signs and thinking that he was in trouble and could seek refuge here.
I listened for awhile but then sent him on his way without anything. My concern was that if I helped him, gave him food or money, that word would spread, and the next thing I would know, I would have kids at my front door every day. But in the meantime, I didn't help this little fella. He had the biggest, softest brown eyes. He didn't look like he was starving. He had clean clothes on. His hair was washed. But I feel bad for doing nothing. At the same time, I can't open me or my organization up to beggers on the street. I feel like it was one of those moments when I had a chance to step up, to take a stance, and I failed.
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