Nom Nom Nom...

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I've been dreaming of food lately. Actually, not only dreaming- I'm becoming a glutton. Yep, that's right, glutton. It's not a nice term, when I hear the word I picture Jabba the Hutt or that dead guy from the movie Seven. Gross. But seriously, I've been imbibing in every single craving. Cheeseburger? Don't mind if I do! Pizza? Hell yeah. Anything fried? Give it to me! I am an eating machine. Mom says I'm storing up, which I can't completely deny. I won't have access to any typical American food in Asia. Hell, I'm pretty sure I'll avoid meat while I'm there (keep reading for an anecdote to further the obvious reasons why meat might be avoided in a hot country without refrigeration). Anyway, after three years of learning all facets of health, including dietary changes, I find myself feeling physically gross and mentally beating myself up for eating poorly. I'm in a downward spiral of deliciously unhealthy food and I can't stop! Surrender is the first step in recovery, therefore, I surrender to the food gods. I will eat what I want for this week, then pull it together, just one more plate of fois gras, I promise. I can quit any time...

Action shot of poopy tail slap.

Post poopy face slap.

Last time I was in Nepal I saw a goat slaughtered. I didn't want to, but it's not something one can look away from once it started. The orphanage had goats, a water buffalo with her baby, and an anorexic looking cow. The water buffalo produced milk and I was able to milk it, once, until her poop covered tail slapped me in the face. Never again. I also had the fortune of seeing the cow artificially inseminated. 


I digress, back to the goat story- I'm not sure why the orphanage had so many goats and while I was there five more goats were born. They were adorable and spastic. I just wanted to cuddle with them as though they were kittens, but goats are not cuddlers and they're bony. For a week, Laxmi, the president of the orphanage, would point to one particular goat and say, "that's the one" and make a motion of slitting her throat. I didn't get it. I also didn't get the point of all the goats. They were herded out each morning to the recently harvested rice paddies and allowed to eat all day. They made a ton of noise, used every inch of the property as a personal toilet and really didn't contribute back. Well, that one poor lil' guy did.

At the end of one of the festivals there is a tradition of slaughtering a castrated male goat. I'm not sure why, but better to appease the gods than leave them angry. It is also one of the only times during the year that people eat meat. It was very ritualized and humane. The goat was honored, thanked and beheaded in one foul swoop. The fur was mostly removed with boiling water and it looked like every single inch of the body was used in a curry dish, with the exception of the legs. The legs were left out in the sun to dry into some type of jerky.

At one point, prior to arriving in Asia, I considered myself a moderately adventurous eater. Well, I'm not. Textures get to me. This dish was particularly chewy and there were bits of meat with skin and fur still on it covered in curry. I couldn't handle it. I felt myself gagging. Not finishing a plate seemed much too rude, especially given the sacred nature of the meal. I ate as much as I could, then tried to pass the rest off to the person I was traveling with. When that didn't fly, I tried in the most stealth manner to dump the rest in the catfish pond behind the squat toilets. Side note, they had a catfish pond. I think the only purpose was to dump certain meat related food scraps. Vegetarian food scraps went to feeding the goats, buffalo and cow. 

The goat slaughter was traumatic and sad. I can't handle meeting my food before I eat it. If someone were to kill and eat me, I certainly wouldn't want to meet them beforehand. The goat curry was served for about three days, none of that time was it refrigerated. It wasn't even cured meat. Just cooked meat, hanging out in a metal bowl with a plate covering it. We ate it. I'm still alive, so I guess it's ok. 

Walking through markets offered another opportunity to see meat in various slaughtered states. Pigs hung ass up draining blood, chickens being de-feathered, goats tied loosely to a pole waiting patiently for their fate. I swear if I didn't love meat so much I'd quit eating it after this experience.  

The typical dish in Nepal is Dal Bhat. Below is something I previously wrote about this meal:

"Everyone in Nepal eats Dal Bhat, which refers to a meal consisting of steamed rice (bhat), a cooked lentil soup (dal) and curried vegetables called Tarkari. This meal is eaten twice a day, generally mid-morning and early evening. The Dal may be cooked with onion, garlic, ginger, chili, tamarind, coriander, garam masala, cumin and/or turmeric. I've also had Dal Bhat with yogurt and some portion of pickled fermented very spicy veggies.

I ate this meal daily at the orphanage and loved it. I craved it for months after returning home, even though I ate it every single day for three months. In cities with a few more food options, the locals would still only order Dal Bhat. Could you imagine choosing to eat the same thing everyday, forever? I feel this speaks to the deliciousness of the meal. 

This is generally eaten with your right hand, as all meals are. Variations of flat breads are an great accompaniment to sop up all the yumminess. Dal Bhat Tarkari is a healthy, versatile meal."  

I still love Dal Bhat and I look forward to eating it again soon. In fact, I loved almost all the food I ate in Nepal. I did start to crave meat while I was there and, oddly enough, yellow mustard. I yearned for yellow mustard, not djion, not spicy, just plain old boring yellow mustard. I wanted to put it on everything, only yellow mustard was not available. I didn't see any type of mustard available anywhere.   I rarely eat mustard at home. I certainly don't crave it. It's not even my favorite condiment. I convinced myself I was clearly malnourished and it was manifesting as an intense mustard craving. To this day, I still believe that even with no evidence to prove it. I wonder what I'll crave this time around.  

There are no chain restaurants in Nepal. I never saw a McDonalds or Starbucks. Hell, there isn't even coffee in Nepal. Ok, that's an exaggeration, there is coffee available in touristy areas, but I hear it's not good. Besides, why waste your time drinking crappy coffee when so many great teas are available. Milk tea was my absolute favorite. It was essentially chai tea brewed in milk with sugar. It was heaven. I drank it every chance I had while away from the orphanage. The orphanage offered us tea each morning, but it was different. Their's was black tea seeped in water with sugar and salt added. It tasted so strange and initially I thought it was gross, then I started to tolerate it more. I never fully loved it and constantly thought about milk tea.

Lastly, I fell in love with lassi. Lassi is a drink made from yogurt, fruit, sugar and water. Now, at the time of ordering the first lassi, when the love affair began, I didn't know they were made using unfiltered water. Had I known this I probably would have avoided them, but the relationship began; I was hooked and I couldn't turn away from the sweet nectar. Mango is the best flavor ever!! I cannot wait to drink those again. 

At the orphanage I filtered every ounce of water I drank. This was such a laborious pain in my ass that I considered not doing it. Just at my weakest moment I'd see a child with explosive diarrhea and reconsider. Touristy places offered filtered water using a ceramic gravity filter and, as I've stated before, I did not get sick while I was there. This time I hope to have the same luck and to maintain my fastidious water drinking habits throughout my Asia travels. SE Asia makes me much more nervous than Nepal when it comes to food and water consumption, but I'm sure I'll have more to say about that while I am there.