Why do I travel? There's something about the complete lack of expectations and knowing you will be surprised at every turn. Not knowing what's in the food, how to call a taxi, what the hell people are saying, how the government works, what jobs are like, even everyday etiquette is sometimes 180.
The prospect of being completely out of one's element and the continuing realization that there is a whole new world that you know nothing about is, I think, the draw of travel for me.
And the food. I love to cook. While I never really learn any new recipes, I learn different ways to eat and cook food. Did you know you can boil a green banana and then eat it? or that you can fry beans and rice? or that corn tortillas are awesome? it opens up a whole new world of taste combinations, preparation methods, and things that fall into the category of 'edible'. While I would never learn to cook an authentically Nicaraguan dish, because I can't follow instructions in the first place, there will forever be a little bit of Nica influence in my recipe book.
There is one bad part... You can't help but feel out of place, nearly all the time. I always claim to be a student, for some reason I feel like that's the most legitimate excuse. It makes me feel better than if I were a tourist or anything else. This may be more of an internship than studying, but it is still, for me, education. I'm here to learn something. Oh, and for the food.
But you still can't help but think that you're annoying people or offsetting the balance with everything you do. If I get one thing out of this trip, I'm going to be nice to foreigners. It's not always easy. I won't complain when I get the guy at McDonald's who doesn't speak English or when I get stuck with the Indian guy at work who you can't understand. I'll probably do my best to make them feel a little more at home. After all, two generations ago I came from immigrants.
On that note, a recipe for hot sauce:
I live close to a pair of nuns, and while eating lunch there one day they had a Ball jar of tasty (and pretty spicy) hot sauce. Nicaraguan food is notoriously bland, and for those of you that don't know me I have an borderline unhealthy obsession with super spicy food. But because of the scarcity of hot sauce here, and the fact that I already sweat non-stop due to the heat, I hadn't eaten anything spicy in a long time. I was then very excited to find that the nuns were Mexican, not Nicaraguan, and had their very own recipe for delicious hot sauce that they were willing to share. One week later, I found myself in their kitchen on a Friday afternoon ready to learn. You wouldn't think making hot sauce would be hard, just liquefy hot peppers and season to taste, right? But... if you're going to have a recipe for hot sauce, why not get it from a pair of Mexican nuns in Nicaragua? Food always tastes better with a story.
First, take a couple handfuls (about 1/2 cup) of dried chili peppers. Put them in a pan on high heat, with nothing else, and cook until they've blackened a bit, constantly stirring so that you don't smoke up the house with pepper gas. Once they're nice and toasted, remove the peppers and put two small tomatoes in the pan (about a cup's worth) and just let them sit until they have a big black burnt spot. (This part looks really weird because you have a pan with nothing in it but two whole, unpeeled tomatoes...) Flip the tomatoes every few minutes until about half the skin is blackened and most of the rest is a weird, wrinkly burnt orange. Remove the tomatoes, peel them, and put in a blender 1/3 cup water, a few cloves of garlic, the peppers, and the tomatoes. Blend and salt to taste.
This one is pretty basic yet still very tasty, but I'm most excited to experiment. Imagine my excitement when the Nuns told me you can add Peanuts! (Or, more accurately, imagine my excitement the next day when I finally found out that maní means peanut) Not only that, but why add water? You could use red wine, vinegar and oil, tequila and lime juice, mango juice with habs... the possibilities are endless. I can't wait to find a grocery store, a kitchen, and a free Saturday afternoon...
Finally, if you were as enthralled by this recipe for hot sauce as I was, you should read Bill Buford's Heat. It's a book about Mario Batali, Italy, obsessive chefs, and quitting your job (and selling your soul) to be a cook. If you weren't, congratulations - you have a chance at a normal life.
