Random food vignettes

[bixaorellana]

Prompted by a couple of reminiscences on the What's in Season thread in On the Menu, I fondly recalled snatches of food-related memory.

Late one afternoon, my sister and I were caught in the rain in high, misty Naolinco, Veracruz. As we maneuvered the narrow wet streets in the gathering dark, we heard the loveliest operatic man's voice sing out "cacahuaaaaaaaateees" Here came a plump smiling man pushing a dolly bearing a gunny sack. He saw us looking and called out his deliberately mispronounced song again. (cacahuate -- kah kah wah tay = peanut). The sack was full of still-hot roasted in the shell peanuts which he invited us to sample. We bought some & continued on our way, stopping every so often to stand in the drizzle in order to shell and eat more of the fresh delights.

[auntieannie]

mmmmh!

[Deleted]

During one of my visits to Cambodia, I had hired a motorcycle guide to take me to all of the various temples. On the last day, we were leaving really early to go on a dirt road to Bantay Srei, the farthest out of the must-see temples, full of delicate pink carvings in the stone. We left around 7 a.m. in the early morning mist.

It was a ride of more than an hour from Siem Reap, but actually it is quite a small temple and it doesn't really take very long to see. And you can't walk around in the surrounding jungle because it is still full of land mines.

When I was done with my picture-taking and general inspection, the guide asked me "we go back to town for breakfast now?" I told him that we could stop anywhere along the road, because I wanted a Cambodian breakfast, and I would be happy to pay for his breakfast too. His eyes widened, not because of my generosity since he knew very well that I could probably invite an entire village to breakfast with a few banknotes out of my wallet, but because I was accepting to eat unsanitary jungle food (or however else it is considered by many of the Occidental visitors). "Okay," he said.

So we went on the motorcycle for 20 or 30 minutes in the direction of town, and he pulled over in a village of wooden shacks, but which had a sort of eating establishment with some plank tables and benches under a big tree. "We eat here?" he asked, giving me a chance to back out, but the place looked just fine to me.

There was a wood fire on one side with various pots hanging over it on hooks, and an old woman tending to them. Naturally, I was the center of attention of all of the eyes of the village. I doubt if I was the first Westerner ever to stop there, but I imagine that they were few and far between. I had a big delicious soup filled with many identifiable and unidentifiable items in it, an aluminum mug of tea and a couple of small bananas. It was not at all the best breakfast that money could buy in the region, but I treasured every morsel of it due to the setting, the ambience, the last of the morning mist burning off, and just the thought that I was doing it all in Cambodia, a place that had seemed so inaccessible and full of suffering a few years earlier but which seemed so peaceful and appealing now. My guide had some soup but also a gigantic plate of rice and a few other things ("hey, it's all free today!").

I asked how much I should pay, and the guide told me $1. So I gave $2 and the old woman seemed to be transported with happiness and gratitude. I waved goodbye to the villagers and they waved back. I'm glad that I had the good manners not to photograph them like zoo animals, but I would love to have photos of that breakfast today. Oh well.

[bixaorellana]

Beautiful story, K. Don't you feel so fortunate and sort of honored by fate with an experience like that?

[hwinpp]

Ha,ha, those motodops are characters sometimes.

Would the place have been something like this?

My favourite breakfast place just around the corner from my house in Siem Reap:

[Deleted]

Oh no, the place where I ate was much more primitive than that -- they didn't even have plastic chairs, only some of those low plastic stools besides the wooden benches.

That delightful photo above is more of a high end place to me!

[hwinpp]

I loved it. They had BBQ'd pork and chicken and rice noodles in the morning and steam boat for dinner.
This was just 50 meters off the airport road but already very quiet. If you look carefully you can see a tourist bus in the far right of the picture.

[Deleted]

In the old days of European trains with compartments, there were often wonderful feasts when the food was broken out at mealtime. The bread always stayed fresh back then, and whether you were eating cheese, pâté or cold cuts, it was always perfect. There was always a bottle of wine and real glasses, because plastic cups were not available back then.

When strangers were in the same compartment, they shared what they had automatically with anybody else.

These days have passed.

[bixaorellana]

I don't know if this is still done in other countries, but in the regular (not high-class) restaurants around here, it's common to share a table with one or more strangers.

[hwinpp]

Same here. At my office coffee shop I know all the regulars and they know me.

[bixaorellana]

Someone mentioned lima beans the other day, and it triggered one of my very earliest memories. I don't know how old I was, but obviously young enough for someone else to feed me. I can remember my godmother encouraging me to eat butter beans and saying "Down the hatch!". I can remember everyone laughing and how much fun I thought this was. (and am now thinking it says a great deal about how much I enjoy food)

[bixaorellana]

Yesterday I went to the big Tuesday produce market downtown. I was hungry, but not in the mood to look for a place to eat on such a hot crowded day. There is one vendor who always keeps my purchases for me so I don't have to lug them around while shopping. He does this for me at two different markets and I bring him a little snack from time to time as a small thank-you.

Thus yesterday I was cutting through a covered part of the vast market where I never venture, simultaneously trying to stay in the shade and to find something to take to Tino.

As a passed one little taco place, the rich smell of meat made me pause. I glanced at the hacked meat on the cutting board and asked a patron, "Head?", meaning beef head meat, something I don't like. "Yes!", she semi-moaned happily around a mouthful.

I moved on, the memory of too many tallowy tacos de cabeza still fresh in my mind, even though it's been well over a decade since I lived on the Texas/Mexico border where this is a Sunday treat.

But after only a few steps, the lingering whiff of that incredible aroma drew me back. I swear there was a sort of hush around this homely stand as the proprietor deftly chopped the meat and piled it on doubled hot tortillas, speaking only to check if I wanted the various toppings.

What delight! Each bite was a small symphony of perfectly balanced tastes -- the non-greasy meat perfectly cooked and salted and with an underlying hint of black pepper, the spicy but not aggressive salsa, the tiny crunch of minced onions, and a crowning glory of the best guacamole sauce I've ever had.

The lady customer was still there, seated next to me. Our eyes met for a moment and we gave little closed-mouth smiles and nods of mutual pleasure.

I can hardly wait for next Tuesday!