Adventures with peppers

As part of our quest to sample available artisan workshops in Ollataytambo and create a tourist guide, we spent yesterday afternoon learning to cook traditional Peruvain stuffed peppers from a local chef.

As compared to basket-weaving and ceramics, our final product was definitely superior. It also took way less time to cook the peppers than it did to weave a basket or throw a pot. So, points for cooking.

We arrived and introduced ourselves to the cook, whose name we have embarassingly forgotten, but who works in Pachamamas, a pizzeria and grill literally next door to our hostel. They have a happy hour menu for Awamaki volunteers and friends and we´re big fans. If you´re ever in Ollantaytambo, I highly suggest that you eat there.

But I digress. We arrived and the cook immediately handed us 3 soles and told us to to the market and buy peppers, peas, and baking soda. This was kind of stressful, as we were only about fifty percent sure that these were the things she told us to buy. We spent a lot of time bickering over pepper size in the market and debating how many peas to purchase. We also asked ourselves if the cook would require all participants to go to the market at the beginning of class. Slightly unconventional.

But we apparently bought the right thing, and she put us to work chopping carrots and frying meat immediately upon our return. We wanted to document the process with photos (Jarrard), and a written recipe (me), in hopes of ending up in the Morehead-Cain scholar cookbook, so we probably spent more time trying to determine English equavilents of ingredients and taking pictures of food than actually cooking.

But we did a good job with the tasks we were given, and by the time the peppers came out of the frying pan, we´d already decided to re-create the experience in a UNC dorm kitchen for Jarrard´s birthday in September. The hot oil could be a little dangerous, but we´re going to risk it.

The peppers were stuffed with a mixture of beef, peas, carrots, peanuts, raisins, and onions. The entire thing was then dipped in pancake batter and fried in oil. We´ve learned here in Peru that you can deep-fry almost anything to make it taste good, but these peppers exceeded expectations. They were pretty hot, but you could substitute red bell peppers for a less adventuresome experience. Try it at home, if you dare!

 

Recipe for Stuffed Peppers

Ingredients: 

• 3 medium-sized hot red peppers
• 1 1/2 cups of peeled, finely diced carrots
• 2/3 cup of finely diced onion
• 1 cup of ground beef
• 1/2 cup of raisins
• 1/2 cup of peanuts
• 1/2 cup of fresh peas
• 1/2 tsp oregano
• 1/2 tsp cumin
• 1/2 tsp bouillon powder
• 1 lime, quartered
• 3 eggs
• 3/4 cup of flour
• 2 tsp baking powder
• 1/4 cup of warm water
• 1/2 tsp salt
• 3 cups of cooking oil

Instructions:

1.  Cut a slice down one side of each of the peppers and remove the seeds. Place the peppers and lime in a pot of water, and boil for 10 minutes.
2. Drain peppers, place in pot with new water and 1 tbs of baking powder, and boil for another 10 minutes. Remove from heat.
3. Sautee onion in 3 tbs of oil, and once transluscent, add the beef, oregano, cumin, and bullion. Cook until the meat is brown.
4. Boil carrots until soft, and add the peas for another 5 minutes. Remove from heat and strain.
5. Place peanuts on a hard surface, and use a rock or other cooking instrument to crush them until fine.
6. Add peanuts, raisens, peas, and carrots to meat and mix.
7. In a seperate bowl, beat egg whites until fluffy.
8. Slowly add the yolks, flour, baking powder, salt, and water to the whites. Beat until smooth, or the consistency of runny cake batter.
9. Open the peppers and stuff them almost beyond capacity with the meat mixture, or until they gape open.
10. Heat the oil in a deep frying pan.
11. Spoon the batter liberally over the open pepper faces, and then place face-down in the hot oil.
12. Cook until the batter turns golden brown and is cooked entirely through.
13. Drain on a paper towel, and serve. Enjoy!

The stove before we got started.

Jarrard and me in the kitchen.

Peppers with batter face-down in the oil.

The peppers are almost done!

The finished peppers on a plate. Pretty.

Enjoying the finished product.

Digging in.

Kelsey and Jarrard claimed the peppers were really spicy.

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Cusco, part two: convis and the Macarena

Yesterday we went to Cusco. Having already been, we pretty much skipped all the parts we didn´t like about our last trip and added some fun new twists.

We went with our friends who insisted that we take a convi rather to Urubumba and a bus from Urubumba to Cusco, rather than hailing a taxi for the 90 minute ride. We saved about $1 each way. Jarrard wanted to make it clear that if we got in a car crash, our fate could have been avoided for only 3 soles. This was duly noted. 

It cost less than $2 to get to Cusco, and I think the entertainment value was worth the slight discomfort. Some people with longer legs and might disagree. But it was an authentic Peruvian experience.

The convis are vans driven between towns in the Sacred Valley, used by people to get to work or school on a daily basis.  Usually as many people as possible cram into each vehicle. This might sound dangerous, but in case of a crash, the Peruvian man wedged in front of me eating  a popsicle would have made a very nice airbag. Plus a lot of people bring their children, livestock, and bundles of food with them, which could help cushion the blow as well.

But don´t worry mom and dad, the convi drivers actually drive much more slowly than the taxi drivers do, and the entertainment value of being stuffed in a small space with other Peruvians infinitely greater.

We spent the day in Cusco, eating lunch at Las Machitas and wandering the San Pedro market. We bought another wheel of cheese, obviously, as well as dried apricots and some really gross but cheap chocolate.

I also got a very large mirror with which to view my sunburn and mysterious bug bites for only $1. Sweet. (The bug bites are another story, coming soon to a computer screen near you.)

On our way back to the bus station we noticed a grocery store, and pretty much went nuts. Where we live, the only places to buy food are the outdoor mercado and small family-owned convenience stores selling professed goods. To wander aisles or have a purchase rung up at a cash register felt incredibly luxurious. We even bought toilet paper in bulk- 12 rolls for $3!

But the convi ride back was the best part of the day. This time I brought my iPod with me, and Kelsey and I had a good 90 minutes of dancing to non-Peruvian music, much to the dismay of our compañeros and the Peruvians stuffed in the bus with us.

We rocked out to the Spice Girls, sang along to some explicit rap lyrics (luckily no one but our mortified friends spoke English), and even danced to the Y.M.C.A. Sadly, I didn´t have the Macarena or the Backstreet Boys on my iPod, or it would have been a truly American experience. Next time, I´m going to tell that little baby staring at my lip-synching to either join in or stop being so rude.

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Saluting our country in a cornfield: Happy Third of July!

Okay, so the Inti Raymi drama and dancers were cool, festival of Chokakillka out of this world, and random days off from school much appreciated. But my new favorite holiday is the Third of July.

Because the people of Ollantaytambo aren´t too concerned with some stupid American holiday, there were unavoidable conflicts tomorrow and we decided the Declaration of Independence could have just as easily been signed on the third and threw a party tonight.

It´s weird, having been in Peru for about five weeks now, what reminds you of America. We made a wish list of things that would make our fiesta legitimate, and people tried their best to make it happen here.

Some ideas turned out better than others. The marshmallows for s´mores from Urubumba were tough in a way marshmallows just should not be, the cheese was not cheddar, and instead of apple pie there was apple crumble. There were no pickles to be found.

But overall it was a success, and the Peruvian influence wasn´t all for the worse. There was an obscene amount of guacamole, and no shortage of potatoes or corn. There were more woven scarves than patriotic attire, and while there wasn´t a single American flag in sight, there was red and blue jello. People had to improvise.

There were real hamburgers with buns, watermelon, potato salad, coleslaw, and s´mores roasted over an oil drum. There were even hushpuppies, courtesy of Jacob, who did the South proud with his cooking.

 There was non-Peruvian music coming through the speakers, and we sat in the concrete courtyard as though on a picnic. Someone drew a Twister board on pieces of paper and I called out ¨red food on blue¨to my heart´s content. We set off ¨fireworks,¨otherwise known as gunpowder tied to a broomstick,  in a cornfield outside Ollanta, and someone put the Star-Spangled Banner on repeat on iPod speakers.

Toasting the United States against the backdrop of the Andes in the moonlight, it was  a salute to our beloved home country and what it represents, as well as an appreciation for everything Peru and its people have given us.

God knows our country isn´t perfect, but I´ve come to realize that for the most part, we have it pretty good in America. The average American child has far more opportunities avaiting him than the average Peruvian does, although these advantages do come with responsibilities. To global awareness, cultural understanding, and some degree of humility, for starters. 

I´m starting to think that you have to leave the United States to begin to understand what it means to be American.

I was 10,000 miles from the nation´s capital, but toniight´s celebration in a cornfield in Peru was the most fitting tribute to our independence that I could imagine. Even if it was a day early. So happy Third of July, everyone. Tomorrow you better appreciate your civil liberties and cheddar cheese.

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Why Peru makes no sense

The electricity just came back on in the Sacred Valley. It´s been out since we woke up this morning, which meant no internet, no electric showers, no lights. All of which is okay. In fact, we didn´t notice until after lunch today.

When we realized that there was no power, Kelsey asked why the electricity would be shut off. Jarrard and I just looked at her in a kind of disbelief. The question is, why does anything that happens here happen at all? Things making sense is more the exception to the rule in Peru.

The water in Jarrard´s house is frequently shut off in the mornings, meaning no showerfor Mr. Model of Cleanliness. No one seems to think to fill buckets at night to prepare for this daily occurrence which has no explanation.

On Tuesday the transportation workers in the area went on strike, or ¨parro,¨ protesting high gasoline prices. No one could leave town to go to work or school. One elementary school in town was closed for the day. Ours stayed open.

There are holidays and festivals and teacher´s professional days when school is closed. But there´s no central calendar. The only way to find out if there´s school is to show up and knock on the door.

The municipality of Ollantaytambo has decided to rip up the cobblestones of the main Plaza and replace them with new ones. They dug large holes in the center of town, and then carted in dirt for festivals and as needed.

 People eat quinoa and papaya juice. Enough said.

Jarrard´s family butchered a pig, or chancho, and it hung from the ceiling in their living room for a few days.  

So we´ve learned to be flexible and adapt to whatever Peru throws at us. Any time things get frustrating, I look up and see the Andes soaring up around town and the 500 year-old Inca ruins peering down at me. All of these oddities are what make Peru quirky and interesting, and Jarrard said the chancho produced some of the best pork he´s ever had. And we have a gas shower. Party!

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Running into the sun

Yesterday I did something really brave: I went for a run.

I haven´t gone for a run in the month I´ve been here, for several reasons. It´s not acceptable for girls to wear shorts here. I feel nervous carrying my iPod around. Peruvians do not seem to exercise. We´re reasonably active in our daily lives.

But our diet of rice, potatoes, pasta, creamy soup, french fries, and bread is really starting to gross me out. Plus the Peruvians serve mayonnaise as a condiment with almost everything. Yesterday I ate what I´m fairly sure was liver just so I didn´t have to face another plate of pasta. I never finish all the food they give me here, but it´s hard not to worry about my health a little bit.

So the combination of the lack of nutritional meals and feeling of going stir-crazy led me to head out to the roads of Ollanta. And boy, did it feel good.

I didn´t wear shorts, nor did I attempt to run through the construction zone going on in the Plaza. But I did wear my iPod, if only to drown out the occasional whistle from men with nothing better to do than stand on street corners and loiter. And I ignored all the looks from Peruvians who were clearly wondering where the fire was.

The hardest part was running on cobblestones. All the streets in town are crafted from flat rocks with cement between the cracks, but it´s pretty bumpy going and I had to focus hard not to trip or twist an ankle. I thought of the rocks as my hurdles.

I headed through town and down the long road toward Jarrard´s house and the bridge crossing the river. Once I crossed the bridge and hit the dirt road outside town, it was absolutely peaceful and easier to run on than the cobblestones.

I only made it about twenty minutes outside of town before I felt completely exhuasted. The sun was beating down and breathing hard at 10,000 feet is no picnic. But it felt good to sweat and make some tracks.

It was probably the most idyllic run I´ve ever been on. Starting with my jaunt through picturesque Ollanta, I found myself rocking out to Beyonce as I ran on cobblestones, stretching on a 500 year-old Inca bridge, and waving to the train heading to Macchu Picchu as I passed entire families harvesting corn. Kind of beats a regular old track.

I´d forgotten how restorative a run can be, and I hope to make this part of my routine from now on. Maybe I´ll even stop and work on the Single Ladies dance on the Inca bridge next time. Who knows.

Jarrard´s picture of the road outside his house where I ran.

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Bienvenidos a Cusco

Today we went to Cusco, leaving Ollanta for the first time since we arrived three weeks ago. Originally the plan was to buy our entrance tickets to Machu Pichu today at the ticket office in Cusco, but we discovered you can only buy them three days in advance. We´re going in July, so no luck there. But we decided to go anyway.

We left in the morning, taking a collectivo, or basically a taxi, to Cusco. It was about a beautiful 90 minute drive through the Urubumba valley and up through farmland and mountains to Cusco, which at 10,800 feet sits a good 1,000 feet higher than Ollanta.

We arrived around ten at the Plaza de Armas. The festival of Inti Raymi, which celebrates the winter solstice and the sun god Inti, is happening next Wednesday. It´s arguably one of Cusco´s biggest festivals of the year, and the partying had already started this weekend. We saw all sorts of crazy parades, and apparently there were fireworks tonight in the Plaza. Peruvians take their festivals seriously.

Parade through the streets, complete with llamas.

 

I deftly tore the map of Cusco in two right as we arrived. Nice.

Me and Kelsey in the Plaza.

Me and Jarrard in the Plaza.

We first headed to the Mercado deSan Pedro, which is a huge tented market a few blocks from the Plaza. It was awesome. Inside were stations selling fruits, vegetables, meat, trinkets, fabric, clothing, cooking utensils, and everything else it is possible to sell in a stall.

We saw some weird stuff. Several animals in the process of being cut up, the butchers wieldingsaws with impressive skill. A disembodied cow nose sitting on a platter. Crazy vegetables that none of us could identify, loaves of bread bigger than my face, piles of fish staring at you with their squiggly eyes, and more wheels of cheese than in the Bethesda Whole Foods. It was a foodie´s heaven.

Flower stall at the mercado.

 

Piles and piles of kalmata olives! Heaven!

 

Squash.

 

This not-so-little piggie went to market...

 

Checking out the crazy produce.

One thing I´ve discovered here is the art to bargaining. There are people all over the streets of the city and in the market trying to sell you things, and all of them are willing to make a deal. It makes buying things so much more fun when you get fifty percent knocked off the price. Then you convert the price from soles to dollars and realize you just purchased your new necklace, scarf, whatever, for the price of a soda in the U.S. Sweet.

 It´s really shocking how cheap everything. I paid for a 90 minute taxi ride to Cusco and back, a huge lunch in a nice restaurant, admission to a fifteenth century church, and a ton of gifts for myself and family members. It was maybe $70 for the entire day. I anticipate serious sticker shock upon returning to the U.S.

I can´t reveal too many of the cool things I bought, because some of our readers may be future beneficiaries of these gifts. But one thing I´m definitely keeping for myself are my ceramic chanchos, or pigs. For 9 soles, or about 3 dollars each, I got two ceramic pigs, ten inches high and twelve inches long. I am in love with them.

Me and the chanchos!

Every house in Ollanta and the surrounding area has a pair of these guys on their roof. I´m not sure what their significance is, but I´m going to find out. Kelsey and Jarrard thought I was nuts for buying them, and I probably am. I have no idea how I´m flying home with them. But the chanchos and I have now bonded, so there´s no turning back. Lily, hope you don´t mind some ceramic pigs in our room next year…

After making a bunch of purchases at the mercado, including a huge wheel of cheese for Jarrard, some earrings for Kelsey, and presents for various friends and family, we headed through the city to the Iglesia de San Blas, the oldest church in Cusco and site of one of the most beautiful wood-carvings in the Americas.

It was a long walk there, skirting around the parade route and heading up a steep hill to where the  Iglesia  sits on a hill at the edge of the city. But it was worth it. Not only was admission only 7.50 soles, or about $2.50, it was empty, refreshingly chilly, absent of tourists, and breathtakingly beautiful. The three of us had the sanctuary all to ourselves for an hour, and audio tours in English were free.

The church itself was a pretty plain, whitewashed building, but the alter at the front is a monolithic structure gilded entirely in gold and full of  statues of saints, angels, animals, and Peruvian foods and plants. But San Blas is famous for the pulpit, supposedly carved by a leper entirely out of a huge ceder tree trunk. It was the most intricate wood-carving I´ve ever seen, and looked to rival some of the similar European structures from my art history textbook this year. Jarrard snuck some prohibited pictures, and we spent way longer than we´d anticipated in San Blas. Best $2.50 I´ve ever spent.

We then headed for lunch at the outskirts of Cusco. Jarrard´s Spanish teacher, Christina, suggested this restaurant specifically, so we hopped in a taxi and hoped for the best. The guy took us to what seemed like a sketchy remote construction site, but once we walked down the street a little we found Las Machitas. And boy are we glad we did.

I finally got to taste ceviche, which I´ve been dying to try since the word appeared on my seventh grade Spanish vocabulary sheet. I also got paella, fried yucca, a mix of shellfish, and chicha morada, a popular non-alcoholic fruit juice made from black corn. Kelsey got trucha, or trout, and Jarrard had a tasty pile of fried shellfish. It was divine. And our total bill was only 75 soles, or $25.

We were the only gringos in the place and definitely got some strange looks, but the bathroom had toilet paper and it was the best seafood I´ve ever had. We made a pact to return before flying out of Cusco in July.

Jarrard and me at lunch.

 

Arguing over dollars to sols conversions.

After lunch we wandered around the mercado and the Plaza before rounding up a convi to take us home. As the car wound its way through the mountains, we watched the sun set over the Andes and had a dance party to Peruvian pop music in the backseat. Pretty much the perfect day.

Prehistoric museum in Cusco.

Tall people are not meant for Peruvian doors.

On one of the blocked-off streets in downtown.

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Pass The Tea, Please

I´ve been thinking a lot about food and where it comes from over the past two days. There are several reasons for this.

For one, I succumbed to the enevitable but unpleasant stomach bacteria grossness common among travelers in third-world countries. Suffice it to say, I´m currently taking Cipro and have a lot of time to ponder what I could have eaten to make me feel so sick. I´m also very thankful for modern medicine.

I´m also a big fan of Campus Health. They supplied us with a handy flow chart that tells you how to treat your stomach ailments. Actually, the chart is very much like those in teen magazines where you answer personality questions and find out which celebrity you would be a perfect match for. Except, instead of finding out that you and Brad Pitt are like, totally made for each other, you find out how many milligrams of Cipro to take. Almost as much fun.

But anyways, as my stomach has been yelling at me, I´ve had time to ponder what exactly I´ve been eating here. Plus I started reading Michael Pollan´s ¨The Omnivore´s Dilemma,¨ which is pretty  much all about being an informed eater. So what exactly are we eating?

Breakfast is by far the most mundane meal of the day. Everyone eats the same thing: bread with butter or jam, washed down with tea. The bread is a crusty roll, flat and about 6 inches in diameter. It´s baked here in Ollanta by local women who sell it in the Plaza, six pieces for one sol, or about 10 cents a piece. Sometimes Kelsey and I get eggs or freshly-squeezed orange or papaya juice with our bread, but that tends to be the exception rather than the rule.

El pan, or bread, that comes with every meal.

Best breakfast ever. Omlette with avacado and bread.

I´ve sadly found that getting coffee that isn´t instant is a challenge. From what I´ve been told, Peru produces a lot of coffee, but most of it is exported and very little is actually consumed by the populace. This is pretty tragic from my perspective, but I´ve found restaurants on the Plaza that cater to tourists and serve excellent, if expensive, ¨cafe con leche.¨ Yum.

Lunch, or el almuerzo, is the biggest meal of the day. We usually eat around 1:30 when we get home from school, and the most of the family is in attendance. The food is usually served in what can only be described as a large tureen or platter. As someone astutely pointed out, you don´t see a lot of skinny Peruvians around, and we´ve learned that cleaning our plate isn´t necessary. But the after-lunch siesta, or nap, is. 

The lunch itself is by far the most varied of all those served. On festival days we usually eat a variation of the special ¨plato tipico¨ that includes cuy, rice, tortillas, seaweed, fish eggs, sausage, and a green ensalada. But on average days, we usually get a huge pile of rice served with a thick soup of meat and potatoes, or spaghetti.  

A ¨light¨ lunch of soup and fruit salad.

The best meal we´ve had in Peru was actually served by Jarrard´s host mother, when she implored us to stay for ¨un poquito,¨or a just a little bit, of food. This heaping meal included the requisite pile of rice, along with a chopped vegetable medley of potatoes, carrots, peas, and beets in a truly delicious sauce.  It has since become hard to turn down a meal at that house.

Dinner is definitely a quieter affair than lunch, which is something I really like. Usually it´s more soup or a small piece of meat, although our host family owns a restaurant and last night we had pizza. It was delightful. Jarrard was pretty jealous, and understandably so.

El pizza!

The Peruvians love their soups, and most of the time they´re pretty good. But today, Kelsey mentioned that it might be nice to eat something more solid every once in a while. If my stomach weren´t currently operating at a reduced capacity, I´d have to agree.

As for how this food is prepared and where it comes from, we´re still figuring that out. Refrigerators aren´t yet common here, and families definitely buy their produce and meat each morning at the market. If you wander to the back of the market toward the buzzing of flies, you can see animals being butchered into cuts of meat.

Cooking is still firmly situated within the realm of female responsibility here, along with cleaning, child-rearing, and laundry. And culinary traditions are definitely passed down from mother to daughter, as our host mom explained. Peruvian women don´t have it easy, but that´s a topic for another day.

Food here is pretty varied for the highland diet, and there are lots of things I still want to sample and explore. But for now, pass the tea, please.

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