The culinary experience is a very important part of my travels. Everywhere I go I like to try new foods, to learn new cooking techniques, and to marvel not only at the new ingredients each locale provides, but how the people in a place take a familiar ingredient and do something new with it. Below are some of the interesting things I've eaten on my journeys.
Chapulines are grasshoppers, fried in chili, lime and garlic. Crunchy on the outside, rich and oily in the inside. It helps to not think while you're eating. One was enough for me.
Mole is a rich Mexican sauce. There are infinite varieties, and the most famous is made with dried chilies and cocoa beans (among other ingredients). Some moles can have several hundred ingredients. I've had Mole Amarillo (in a little market in a small town outside of Oaxaca), Mole Chichillo (which I cooked myself), Mole Negro (the "King of the moles"), and Mole Poblano (the most common mole). Describing the taste of a mole is impossible; the key feature is that, despite the multitude of ingredients, no one flavour stands out. Instead, the various parts combine to create a new, incredible taste.
Charales are a specialty of Patzcuaro and its nearby lake of the same name. They are small fish, an inch or two long, which are dried, then fried, then eaten whole. They are a little salty, a little fishy, fairly crunchy, and in general, a little boring. I would have enjoyed them more with a little dipping sauce on the side. But the sight of a pile of little fried fish heaped on a plate, each with its big eye looking up at you, was definitely memorable.
Bob and Marilyn's farm overlooks rocky Gough's Bay, and in among those rocks grow the huge black paua. They are like a big one-sided mussel, and the open side acts as a suction cup holding them onto the rocks. Their shells are valued as jewelery; their meat as food. Bob harvested nine of the palm-sized molluscs, and his wife prepared half as fritters and the other half in a marinade for us to later saute. Kate and I ate them for dinner, and they were tasty, chewy and rich. Later, when we got to Australia, we discovered that they sell in the Chinese markets for one hundred dollars per kilogram.
Kebabs certainly aren't native to Australia, but I've been enjoying them everywhere I go and so I feel they warrant a mention. They are nutritious, delicious, and always hit the spot. The best kebabs I've ever had are to be found at Bay Kebabs, on Jonson street near the beach, in Byron Bay, Australia. The marinated onions are a masterful touch.
I'm still not quite sure what I ate. I haven't had it since. I'm not even sure I got the name right. But what I ate that evening in Nha Trang was delicious, crunchy, savoury, satisfying, and authentic. It consisted of meaty sausages, aromatic herbs, delicate rice paper, and crunchy pork skins. The setting was informal, no one spoke English, and it was probably my best Asian meal ever.
When the meal arrived, Kate and I looked at each other with no small amount of bewilderment. Plates were stacked high with meat, bean sprouts, basil and lettuce, herbs I'd never seen before, rice paper, bundles of tied off banana leaves, and more. The waitress, sensing our unfamiliarity with this bounty, deftly set to work with two pairs of chopsticks, constructing roll after roll for our eager consumption. This was quite time consuming for her, since her regular patrons usually feed themselves, but we would have been lost without her. The end result -- a crunchy, savory, pungent, aromatic bundle of deliciousness, is worthy of another trip across the Pacific.