Around the World in 80 Meals

Meal 50. Chinese-Singaporean feast

2008-12-21T19:34:00.008+01:00

Though Derek (or Des) is originally from Singapore, he's lived in Australia since he was 9, and now in Oxford for a year or so. To my untrained ears, he sounds like somebody speaking 'posh', but with a bit of an Australian accent thrown in.
He loves to eat and to cook, and tonight is my lucky night: time for a feast. We've spent many a happy moment in preparation discussing Singaporean cuisine and its similarities to Chinese and Indonesian/Malay cooking (with which I am more familiar).
Though it is 'only' a city state, Singapore has almost 5 million inhabitants and is one of the most densely populated nations on earth. Before meeting Des, I had already read a very enthusiastic article about the world famous 'hawker centres' which seem to bring together specialists of various dishes in hygienic-but-authentic outdoor or indoor conglomerations of foodstalls. Some people seem to visit Singapore only for the food! Sadly, I've only been airport for a stopover...

In preparation, Derek has bought bagloads of ingredients at the local Chinese store in Oxford...this is a great shop that I enjoy wandering around in a mildly perplexed state. One day I came home with paper money that had "Bank of Hell" printed on it...so called Hell Money, used to provide dead ancestors with cash for the afterlife. I also saw a guy in front of me in the queue with a 2 kg bag of frozen chicken feet, hard to get at the local Sainsbury's. Derek shows me some packages that say "Dried Provisions" on them as the only indication of what can be found inside (for those who cannot read Chinese script). Luckily he is a man with a plan and gets to preparing the feast for me and his flatmate. All I need to do is watch and chop the occasional vegetable.

To start, I am served bak kut teh soup with bean sprouts, mince-meat and salted vegetables. These were served with steamed char siu buns (pictured at left). This is the only part of the meal that I have easily recreated at home...as all it involves is buying the frozen buns and steaming them above hot water for ten minutes. I love the sweet and savoury taste of the pork filling.

The main course consists of an authentic dish of stir-fried kailan and cloud-ear fungus with baby corn and oyster sauce. Kailan is otherwise known as 'Chinese broccoli' or 'Chinese kale'. I would say it's more like kale than broccoli, see right. The cloud-ear fungus was one of the 'Dried Provisions'. When fresh...they supposedly resemble human ears. Not sure where the clouds come in.

The final savoury dish is prawn laksa noodles served with fried onions and hard-boiled eggs.
I am absolutely stuffed and need to give everything some time to digest before having any space for desert. Desert is more of a 'fusion' dish, lovely vanilla ice cream with lychee and raspberries.
You can understand why this meal deserves the epithet 'feast' as with so many dishes, it is difficult to chose the one most representative for the whole meal. I think I'll need to travel to Singapore sometime in the near future and venture outside of the airport, but in the meantime hope to entice Derek to teach me more about this cuisine (=cook for me) while we're both still in Oxford.

Meal 49. Polish Żurek, Bigos and Gołąbki

2008-09-26T00:02:00.015+02:00

When I arrive at this cosy house in North Oxford for the Polish meal, it turns out the blog was checked out beforehand and lots of photos were made of all the preparations to help me out. This allows me to relax and just chat to Jolanta about what Polish cuisine is like. She warns me:"It is delicious, but it is possibly the most difficult food in the world to digest!"
Possibly this is due to the large role cabbage plays in Polish dishes. Our starter, the white soup żurek (see picture), does not contain this vital ingredient. The main course, though, consists of stuffed cabbage (gołąbki) and bigos, which takes two days to prepare and has both normal and sour cabbage in it. It should normally be drunk with cold vodka!

The stuffed cabbage rolls are called 'pigeons' (due to a somewhat similar shape?) and have a lovely mince and rice filling. In the photo above you can see Yolanta preparing them. They are youngest daughter Zuzanna's favourite and she manages to finish at least four of them. Looking at her slim figure, I must assume that they aren't prepared that often!

Contrary to my prejudiced expectations, Darek (at right) actually did most of the cooking. He and Jolanta met when they were 16 and 13 and by now they've been married 18 years! Their cosy household is a warm haven for the (often single) young Poles who end up in Oxford for work or study.
Though they love everything about Poland (except the politicians), the economic insecurity meant that their move to the UK took away a lot of stress. As Jolanta succinctly puts it:"I no longer have to choose between buying food and paying the rent."
I am very impressed by how fluently she speaks English after so few years here. She said she thought she spoke it while still in Poland, but could not understand a word people said in the UK when she just arrived. Incredibly, she is now well on her way to being an accredited interpreter.
Though at the moment she is still the senior ward housekeeper at the stroke unit in Oxford's major hospital: "Learning to follow what the stroke patients are trying to say is a bit like learning a new language; it is satisfying that I can understand them almost all the time by now."

The dessert after this lovely dinner is a spice cake prepared by Ewelina (at left) who helped me contact the family initially. Another of Zuzanna's favourites (see below)!

We discuss how we would actually need a "Polish meal part 2" to include classic dishes as pierogi, borsht and cheesecake.

I'm up for it, and can confide that I had no digestive problems after this first copious meal...

Here is the recipe Jolanta emailed me to recreate the bigos at home. Be aware that it tastes best if prepared a few days in advance!

Meal 48. Greek Cypriot Makaroniatou Fournou and Ttavas

2008-08-18T01:12:00.015+02:00

Maria, a social psychologist, has gone to great lengths to provide an authentic Greek Cypriot meal. The email with recipes solicited from her mother and grandmother is stuck to the fridge. For expert advice on the desert, galactoboureko, a visit was arranged to a local Cypriot matriarch. Maria's compatriot, Yiannis (at right), is helping out - the local matriarch is his auntie. In total, seven people will be enjoying this feast tonight, including Pascalis, a Greek friend who can help separate the typically Greek Cypriot from the plain Greek dishes.
We start off with pita and haloumi, a lovely cheese that is probably Cyprus' most famous export. Maria tells me her grandma prepares this every morning as breakfast for her grandfather.
In general, most Cypriots prefer to start the day with something a bit lighter, such as frappé.
Pascalis immediately informs us that this cold coffee beverage was invented at the International Trade Fair in Thessaloniki (in 1957). So now you know the origins of this famous frothy drink!
The main course consists of Makaroniatou Fournou (a pasta dish with bechamel sauce), and Ttavas, made with beef and tomatoes. Both are oven dishes and preferably cooked in an authentic mud oven in your back garden.
As we all dig in and enjoy the hearty fare accompanied by a feta salad, I try to find out more about Cyprus. For example, what drives the economy? "Tourism!", answers Maria, while
Pascalis laughs: "Money laundering!"
Cyprus has been through a lot...Maria's synopsis is that is was ruled by the Ottoman empire who sold it to the British Empire in the late 19th century. In 1960, Cyprus gained independence after a number of years of protest against the British rule.
The first president was an archbishop and remained in power for 17 years! For some reason, the second candidate was a psychiatrist... and since early 2008 the government is leftist.
But Cyprus is most well know for the division between Greek and Turkish territory. Maria has been to the Turkish part quite often, but Yiannis has never has. He does feel it is part of 'his country'. Though the situation is far from ideal, it is relatively peaceful, with no fighting or terrorism, and according to Maria, many people are alright with the current status quo.
Besides the locals, Cyprus has seen an influx of British expats who enjoy the climate and the relatively cheap property.
As well, I am told there are now quite a few "Russian artists". This is a polite euphemism for prostitutes...so even a Polish hooker would be referred to as a "Russian artist"!
Similarly, the many domestic helpers are known as "Sri Lankese", though they might be from the Philippines, Malaysia, etc. Maria tells me it is now so common to have help from overseas, that her own mother, when spotted cleaning by the neighbour's help, was asked:"So...where are you from? Sri Lanka?"

We finish off the meal with the lovely Galactoboureko pudding and sweet Commandaria wine, brought over from Cyprus by Maria's parents during their last visit. You can see how much fondness she has for this wine at right.

Here is the recipe for Ttavas, the beef stew.

Meal 47. Belarusian Draniki and Bliny

2008-07-07T07:08:00.007+02:00

This meal is quite special to me, as it marks the continuation of the project in the UK. Inni is my first host in Oxford and is cooking for me at her student housing in the centre of town.
Impressively, she has gained a full scholarship, and is one of the few Belarusian students in the UK, though the country is quite big, with a population of around 10 million.
I have to admit my mind goes pretty blank when the country Belarus is mentioned, though it is really not that far away (bordering Poland and Lithuania). Strangely, Belarusian cities like Minsk and Brest seem a lot more familiar. I even had a friend planning to travel "between four Brests", as there are cities called Brest not only in Belarus, but in France, Germany and Macedonia as well.

The dinner starts with traditional fare that I do associate with the region: red cabbage salad (very easy to make) and potato pancakes called draniki. They are made with grated potatoes and onions and bound with some egg and flour. Very similar to the latkes my father often makes, though Inni uses a much finer grater. The desert, bliny, crêpe like pancakes, again reminds me of a dish my dad makes, called blintzes (see Meal 17. Jewish-American Borsht, Challah and Blintzes). This might just be because his family came from the Ukraine, near Belarus, with similar cuisine. Though Inni tells me the medium-sized town she grew up in, called Borisov, used to be predominantly Jewish. However, most of them left or were killed long before she was born.

Belarus has opened up considerably after the Soviet collapse, but is still pretty much a communist state. When prodded, Inni can come up with memories of how rare bananas were when she was younger. In her recollection, her mother came home one special day with a whole suitcase of bananas. Inni didn't really like them as they were too firm for her taste. By the time they had ripened and become softer, she discovered she loved them. But by then, they were almost finished and she had to wait a long time before she could eat them again!
This story is quite 'exotic' to me and seems typical for someone from a former Soviet state. In most other aspects, I have to say Inni is very much a product of the global village; speaking fluent English, well travelled within Europe and even planning a trip to Nepal.

I give her the names and email addresses of my Nepalese friends (see Meal 2.) and imagine a distant reunion of 80meals participants.

To make your own Belarusian meal, click here for recipes (that Inni diligently penned down for me, at right).

Meal 46. Albanian Groshe

2008-02-08T02:58:00.009+01:00

I stumble across the lovely Eri as I am picknicking in the park with a friend. He is sitting all alone with lots of delicious food surrounding him which surprises me. Who would make so much food to eat by himself?
Of course, it turns out his friends were only temporarily absent. But by the time I find this out, he has offered me some of the food and I have speedily convinced him that he is the perfect candidate to make the Albanian meal for this project!

Though he has been living in Holland for the last ten years, he still has a strong dose of national pride and has plans to return to his country of birth when he graduates from law school. [Update: at the time of publishing this blog, he HAS graduated and IS back in Albania]
His brother Lulzim also studied law in Utrecht and is now minister of Foreign Affairs in Albania, a fact that makes Eri understandably proud. Googling him turns up photos with Condoleezza Rice, what a surprise!
Anyway, no offense to Lulzim, but Eri is obviously the handsome one, and proves to be an excellent cook as well.
The white bean soup he is making for the project takes about four hours to prepare, so while everything is simmering on the fire we actually have time to go out for a coffee. I know, normally it is not a good idea to leave something on the fire unattended for so long, but we survived to tell the tale.

Sadly, Eri later tells me the recipe is top secret, so normally you would need your own Albanian sources to find out how it is made.
But, after a bit of sniffing around online I discovered a list with Albanian soup recipes online that seems quite trustworthy. Strangely, though Eri assures me this soup is called groshe, they seem to think that is made from lentils. Whereas fasule would be white bean soup. If any Albanians are reading this, let me know what you think!
In general, cuisine from this relatively unknown country is quite similar to its neighbours' and you might even find tarator on your table (as seen in Meal 45 from Bulgaria). Many of the dishes can be compared to other "Balkan" cuisine and Turkish and Greek food.
One thing I am still curious about is a drink called Dukagjin made with grape juice, sugar and mustard!

Meal 45. Bulgarian Tarator, Musaka and Pitka

2007-08-12T17:14:00.000+02:00

How I get in touch with my various generous hosts is quite diverse. Often it happens through mutual friends, and I stumbled across the host for my Albanian meal (no. 46) while he was picknicking in the park. Kristina, however, contacted me just minutes after I got a Skype account. I saw her last name and immediately asked where she was from....and what do you know, Bulgaria, unchartered territory for this blog! She seemed to take my strange request for a meal in her stride (after she checked out the website) and a few days later I am ringing her doorbell just minutes away from my own home. I get to know her husband (a mathematician with Russian roots) and her baby boy, Marin, with luminous blue eyes.
Kristina came to Holland to study piano and now practices daily in her colourful flat. Her son is growing up surrounded by music...and good food!
Our starter is a deliciously tart yoghurt and cucumber soup called tarator. Kristina assures me is very simple to make and it seems perfect for summer dinners; you can just take it from the fridge and it's ready to serve cold.
The main course is warm and hearty, a 'meat and potato' dish, musaka. It is somewhat similar to the more famous Greek moussaka, but without eggplant (aubergine). Kristina is a bit embarrassed, because her musaka turned out darker than she would have liked (some would even say burnt), but it is quite tasty nevertheless! It is accompanied by fresh salads and a lovely flower-shaped bread called pitka.
After dinner we discuss similarities between Russia and Bulgaria as former USSR nations, I play with Marin (carefully, as I don't want him to catch my cold) and listen to an impromptu piano recital from Kristina. Sadly, I have to admit I cannot remember the evening in much detail as I have delayed posting this story almost a year after moving to the UK. Every time I log in to Skype I feel enormously guilty seeing that Kristina is online and without anything to show for all her efforts. The last time we chatted through Skype, she even sent me new photos of her son, who has of course grown enormously since I saw him. But the luminous blue eyes and gentle smile are the same. I wonder if he will feel Russian-Bulgarian when he grows up, or Dutch-Bulgarian-Russian? But who knows where their little family will settle permanently? A pianist and a mathematician can grow roots in many countries...

Meal 44. Bengali Motor Polao and Pangas Mach

2007-05-16T14:31:00.000+02:00

Ahmed is the master cook of this authentic Bengali meal. Though I was first a bit confused by the difference between "Bengali" and "Bangladeshi", a quick search taught me the latter epithet refers strictly to the nation. Bengali includes West Bengal, officially part of India. As this evening with Ahmed teaches me, he does feels the ties with India. We watch highlights of Bollywood movies, a compilation of mostly musical interludes with the megastar Shah Rukh Khan.
Somehow, in my long and (I try) multicultural life, I have never really watched a Bollywood movie. I'm impressed by how they seduce me with their fantasy world. The songs and dances vary from the classic to the modern, in desolate landscapes and ornate palaces. Ahmed explains how in one classic dance sequence, every movement of the arms, the legs, the head means something. He can understand what the female character is trying to express to the male love interest without a word being spoken. Amazing! In all of the romantic sequences shown, the actors never kiss, though some touching of the naked female stomach obviously is allowed. Ahmed tells me nowadays some actors do kiss for real, but that it is bad for their image. You will see a tantalizing amount of 'almost' kisses, which to be fair, might be more interesting in the end.

Now, for the cooking...when I enter the communal kitchen in Ahmed's student house, I am impressed by the enormous pan of rice waiting for us. It is more than enough for the four people that will be enjoying this meal tonight. As Ahmed is leaving to return to Bangladesh in just a few days, I wonder who will eat it all. The rice is infused with yellow colour, and aroma, because of the saffron added. Ahmed obligingly poses with the Motor Polao rice at right. But the fish is more special. He calls it Pangas Mach. Googling that turns up nothing, though I do find Panga is a type of fish found in the Indian Ocean. It is serves with Dal Aloo Ghanto, a lentil sauce. The vegetables draped on top are called "Indian root" in Bengali, but Ahmed isn't sure of the English translation. It is all artfully served and quickly gobbled up by me, a young Dutch friend who is always up for Bengali food, and Shusil, our Nepali friend who prepared the second meal for this project.
The same relaxed atmosphere is present now as at that evening more than a year ago. As we go to leave the dirty dishes in the kitchen, we find Ahmed's housemates preparing a meal including magic mushrooms...in general, in my world, stimulating company beats chemical stimulants any time! Although, in a way, maybe food counts as a stimulant as well? I do enjoy good company more in combination with good food!

To check out some Bengali recipes at home, try out these websites:
Bangali.net
A collection of Bengali recipes
Anita Pal's Bengali recipes

Meal 43. Sahrawi Couscous

2007-05-11T17:58:00.000+02:00

This meal is the most "political" meal I have had during the whole project. The nationality "Sahrawi" probably won't ring a bell for most people. It is the term used by/for refugees from the Western Sahara territory. This is a huge chunk of Morocco; on some maps it will have a different color. After Spain left Morocco in 1975, control of the Western Sahara has been disputed by Mauritania, the Moroccan government and Frente Polisario, who want independence for the region.

And it is the representation for Polisario in the Netherlands, Ali, who will be making couscous for me tonight. I got to know him through a friend of mine, who got a visa from him to visit the Sahrawi refugee camps in Algeria. It is very interesting to meet someone whose life has been influenced so strongly by the politics of his home country. He had just been studying medicine in Spain for three years when he was called back in the mid seventies to help his country fight the Moroccan rule. He mostly served by running the Red Cross and remembers the period as very difficult. There was a lot of fighting then, guerilla warfare with a lot of people getting hurt or killed.
The Polisario formed a kind of government in exile of the Sahrawi refugee population in Algeria. Ali was their minister of education for a while and tells me about many young Sahrawi being educated in Cuba. Mostly as doctors and as teachers. They shared the language and the common past as Spanish colonies.
Ali has had many different "nationalities", as the Sahrawi passport is only recognized in certain countries and he has to be able to travel freely to represent Polisario. At the moment, he is officially Spanish.

During the preparations for the meal, we speak about the past and present of his country and I am impressed by his gentle spirit. His attitude seems to be a mix of sadness, frustration, determination and hope. The fight for independence has been going on for so long now, more than 30 years. And though there has been a ceasefire and talk of a referendum since 1991, no real steps forward have been taken. It is virtually impossible for a Sahrawi to travel from the camps in Algeria to his birthplace because of the wall that has been built by the Moroccan government.

In essence, the couscous Ali is preparing is not that different from the Moroccan couscous I had earlier (see Meal 12. ). Again, the couscous is steamed twice, with a lot of attention to the "fluffing" in between, as seen at right. It is served with succulent lamb, chick peas and a multitude of vegetables. Squash, carrots, cabbage, bell peppers, tomatoes and nabos, turnips. Ali tells me that though this is typical, a more unique meal is eaten in the Sahara desert. When groups of men head out into the desert for whatever reason, they will take flour, onions and meat with them. The flour is made into unleavened bread with the sand as an oven. This is served with a sauce of meat and onions on top. For the authentic experience I think I would have to travel with them into the desert! Who knows if this might happen one day...who knows what the situation of the Western Sahara will be then...

Meal 42. Peruvian feast

2007-03-23T12:22:00.000+01:00

Tonight is the night of the Peruvian feast. Once again, it is a feast, as my hostess, Valeria, has made so many dishes it is impossible to choose one as the "main dish". Besides Valeria, her Dutch partner Geert and me, two other friends have been invited to make all the cooking worthwile. Aparently, Valeria has been at work since the early morning!

We start out with an appetizer of deep-fried yuca with salsa amarilla, a sauce made with yellow bell peppers, cheese, milk and fine cracker crumbs. I used to love havind yuca frita as a snack when I lived in Costa Rica, as a kind of Latino french fries with ketchup. The yellow sauce is new to me.
I have to admit that before this meal, my only association with Peruvian food was: "Guinea pigs!" It seems like all tourists come back from Peru with not only photos of the Machu Picchu, but of fried guinea pig on a plate as well. A locally popular type of meat, the little animals are easy to raise next to the house. Often women are responsable, and sometimes children as well.

But when I ask Valeria, she exclaims:"Cuy!?" No, too much trouble to get cuy in the Netherlands, and besides, there are more than enough other great dishes she would love to make.
After the fried yuca, we are seated around the large dinner table and dig into the wonderful ceviche. Valeria's version of this dish involve nice, big, juicy chunks of fish marinated in lemon juice, with finely chopped red onions, celery, coriander and hot pepper.
Then come the papas rellenas, potato patties filled with ground meat and raisins. I love the combination of meat with the sweetness of the raisins, also found in Chilean empanadas (see meal 13). You can see Valeria preparing the patties at right.

Easy to make yourself is the salad of hard boiled potatoes and eggs, olives and yellow sauce, otherwise known as papas a la huancaina (at left). This yellow sauce is versatile!

We also have fried calamares and fish with a dip, rice with chicken, beef with vegetables (lomo saltado), and as a grand finale the dessert. One of Valeria's first presents to Geert was a Peruvian cookbook, and now he knows how to make fried picarones, a sweet ring-shaped pumpkin pastry served with syrup. Yummy!

We discuss how they met, while he was travelling in Peru. Valeria has traveled extensively in her own country as well, and they met on the road. Their photos make me want to step on the plane to Peru! What a beautiful country. Plus, now I know there'll be more than enough good things to eat, not just guinea pigs!

Check the recipe if you want to learn how to make picarones as well.

Meal 41. Latvian Rosols

2007-01-26T17:12:00.000+01:00

Nanda has invited over Digne, a friend who lives in the Hague as well. They met up through a Latvian "Myspace" type website. Digne was checking out the profiles and..."Hey! There are more Latvians here in the Hague!" So now she is here, the official inspector of Rosols, the special potato salad served on birthdays, holidays and all other special occasions. It's a festive dish, but "even boys know how to make it!" Nanda's father often makes it for her when she's back in Riga for a visit. The last couple of years she's lived in France (to study sound engineering) and here in Holland (to study ArtScience).

While we're chopping and dicing the sausage, carrots, gherkins, eggs and potatoes, Nanda tells me lots about Latvia. Russia plays a big part in its recent history, they occupied Latvia till 1990. Till then, all "official" things, like shop fronts or tram tickets, were in Russian. After independence, everything was written in Latvian, but on some facades, the bleached out shadows of the Russian letters are still visible. There's quite a polemic going on now about the language, as the big Russian minority (almost a third of the population) want Russian to become the offical second language of the nation. Nanda was even affected by this struggle personally...when she worked at the ministry of education there was a bomb scare in the building . All because they wanted to change education so that all lessons would be taught in Latvian.
Nanda tells me sometimes at the market she will be speaking to the vendors in Latvian and they will answer in Russian. A bilingual dialogue... The salad progresses and Digne inspects the proportions of the different ingredients. The pieces have to be chopped very finely, as “only grandma’s make rosols with big chunks!” Then generous amounts of sour cream and mayonnaise are added. The aspect mostly reminds me of potato salads I have had in the past at barbecues or parties. But here in Holland it doesn’t have a special name or significance…and often it’s bought at the supermarket and not made at home. Which does make a big difference, as I notice when I take my first bite. The rosols isn’t really photogenic, but it is delicious comfort food and I can imagine it being seen as a “festive” dish.

After dinner we enjoy a cup of lindenflower tea, with lindenflower honey to sweeten it, also typical for grandmothers according to Nanda and Digne. To accompany it, some rock hard caramels that need an unexpected amount of violence to separate them from their friends. Here at right you see Nanda holding a Latvian souvenir…it’s a bread that’s a couple of months old, but she doesn’t want to throw it away just yet. Amazingly, this “real” bread just turns hard and doesn’t get moldy.

Click here for the original Rosols recipe. It's easy to make!

Meal 40. Costa Rican Gallo Pinto

2007-01-04T11:33:00.000+01:00

This meal is special....firstly because it is the 4oth meal and thus is the half-way mark of my trip. Secondly because it is Costa Rican, and the food brings back memories of my exchange year in that Central-American country seven years ago. It's great to laugh and chat again with people who have been to the same places and speak Spanish the Costa Rican way. Saying vos instead of tu will sound ridiculous in almost any other country.

Fresia is a Ph.D. student of Physics here in the Netherlands, and her friend Marcela as well, but in Brazil. They have invited Carlos as well, and even though he is Colombian, he is in charge of the patacones...the twice-fried plantains both countries have in common (see Meal 20. Colombian Bandeja Paisa).
A truly unique part of Costa Rican cuisine, though, is the world famous Salsa Lizano (at right) that Fresia specially brought from back home to give her food that typical flavour. The weird thing is that when I look at the bottle a bit closer, the Lizano company turns out to be owned by Unilever, a British-Dutch food (and cleaning products) conglomerate. That's globalization for you!
Fresia has a whole collection of tico (=Costa Rican) food and condiments, but the locally famous spirit guaro isn't included. "I'm afraid of giving my country a bad name if I let people here drink that!", she admits.
Serving the very popular ceviche is a better tactic. This delicious and refreshing dish made of raw fish, onions, lemon juice and cilantro (coriander leaves) is easy to make and often served for lunch.

But more "typically tico" is the rice and beans called gallo pinto. It's supposedly name after the "painted rooster" whose black and white feathers are similar to the colours of this dish. During my year in Costa Rica I must have had this about 365 times...it can be served for breakfast, lunch or dinner! Cilantro, fried onions and garlic and Salsa Lizano give it a typical taste, and the chopped bell peppers are added for a touch of colour.
Marcela remembers how her mother made rice attractive for her kids by adding peas, grated carrots or bell pepper.
As we eat, we listen to traditional songs that were always played at Fresia's dance classes. Though in the discos you will mostly hear salsa, merengue with some pop and reggae thrown in, quite a lot of young Costa Ricans have learnt folk dancing at school or university.
I mention how I was surprised that my host family hadn't learned to spell my name correctly after living with them for half a year (Yeny instead of Jenny). Later I noticed many Costa Ricans don't care about the spelling of their own name. One day it's Mainor, the other day Minor. And you wouldn't believe the quantity of boys named Jhonny!
Fresia laughs:"You wouldn't think so, but my name has been spelled in I don't know how many different ways! Fressia, Frezia, Frecia..."
What is also different, is the fact that many people (mostly younger males) are always referred to by some strange nickname. El Muerto (the Dead Guy) for an unusually pale friend, Watchi for someone who looked like a local watchman, Chile for a guy who was from there originally, etc. On my last trip I was presented to a Repollo (Cabbage)...his backpack bore the slogan: "Say no to violence against vegetables!"

If you'd like to try your hand at ceviche, here's the recipe.

Meal 39. Thai Thom Yum Kung

2006-12-30T16:56:00.000+01:00

When I see all the ingredients Bibi has gathered around her to prepare the Thai meal, I am seriously intimidated. I give up ever recreating this meal before she has even started. When she tells me she's planning to open a Thai restaurant, I feel somewhat better...I'm dealing with a professional here.

Like Mike (from my Chinese meal), Bibi is a "European" name, as her Thai name is too long and complicated to pronounce for most Westerners.
Most Thai have a nickname, and even the
kings are not known by their full name! Bibi says:"We just call them King nr. 5 or King nr. 9."

The official name for Bangkok is so long, there's even a special song to help you remember is. Mostly it's just called Krung Thep, which roughly translates into "City of Angels". Anyway, Bibi isn't even from Bangkok!

While I'm helping her remove the heads of the big shrimp for our soup, she explains how she needs to be in a good mood while cooking: "I have to be in a good mood for the food to taste good! If I'm in a bad mood, the dishes somehow always turn out too salty or too sweet..."

I'd never heard that before!

As she is cooking for non-Thai, Bibi has been so nice as to adapt the level of hotness to our tastes. She says what we are eating is "children's level". She herself always brings a little box of chili powder whenever she's eating out or at a restaurant. This way, she can surreptitiously add a bit of spice to the dishes that taste very bland to her.

But even within Thai adults there is a variation in what people can stand. Bibi's aunt cooks such spicy food that Bibi's father will not accept dinner invitations to her home anymore!

Our meal starts with little snacks; egg rolls, meat patties and frothy omelet. The omelet is so airy because it's poured into the pan from great heights...Bibi jokes:"We will pour it from the second floor, if we want it to be really light!"

The spicy Thom Yum Kung, brings a nice flush to my cheeks and every spoonful springs a new surprise of mushrooms, coriander or shrimp. Somehow I find it impossible to make good pictures of the food this time. Especially of the main dish, white rice with Beef Curry Matsaman. This is a special recipe, originally only eaten in the King's Palace, according to Bibi. "Every dish has a story in Thailand."

I feel blessed to be able to taste it on this cold rainy winter day in Holland.

As a final lesson, Bibi shows me how to make a spring roll with a napkin (photo at right). I still feel as if I'm in a course about Shakespeare before even learning the alphabet! If she does indeed open a restaurant, I will be the first visitor.

Click here for a simplified recipe for Thom Yum Kung.

Meal 38. Burkina Faso Chicken Gizzards

2006-12-14T21:20:00.000+01:00

Moussa is my host tonight, from Burkina Faso, "the land of good people". As happens more and more often during this project, I have to admit I've never consciously met anybody from this country before. When Moussa hears me speak in French, he exclaims "Ah! It's as if you I'm hearing a Mossi woman speaking! Your accent is exactly the same as the Mossi ethnicity in Burkina!" Somehow the mix of French learnt at school and while travelling in Africa, mixed with Dutch and American accents, led to a similar way of speaking...
I was warned that Moussa is a very good cook, but that he has a penchant for using "organ meat", a first for this project, I must say. So it is no surprise to see what (as a veterinarian, not as a consumer) I recognize as chicken stomachs, also known as gizzards in proper English. They are being marinated in oil, vinegar, onions, garlic and salt.
While I get a complete workshop in how to prepare Burkinese food, Moussa tells me more about his childhood. While he is the oldest son of a large family, he was raised by his great-grandmother, "the woman who has loved me most in life".
"She always gave me everything, we were so attached, that when I slept, she slept. When I awoke, she got up as well!"
But all good things come to an end...in his case, when his great-grandmother died, at the ripe old age of 106. He found it hard to cope without her.
By this time I have not only learnt how to marinate gizzards, but lamb as well. And how to fry plantain, aloko.
I have to say, the gizzards are pretty tasty, and I appreciate their chewiness. The plantains are also good, but not new to me, as the gizzards are and the Lamb with Peanut Sauce. I knew there were countries in Africa where peanutsauce was popular (from a favorite "graphic novel", Aya de Youpogon, which plays in Cote d'Ivoire, Burkina Faso's relatively rich neighbour).
After a surprisingly delicious meal, it's time for tea. This involves a gunpowder tea, mint leaves, a tiny tea kettle and the pouring of tea from great heights, dozens of times! The end result is a very strong "men's tea". It's like a stiff drink, and keeps some people up all night. Moussa tells me, in Burkina Faso the men get excited and call out: "Ataya, ataya!" when the tea is brought out. I can imagine the scene, somehow.

For those who are adventurous and can find gizzards at their local butcher: here is the very simple recipe.

Meal 37. French-Canadian Poutine

2006-11-28T17:16:00.001+01:00

The way I met David is quite exemplary for the so-called global village. On holiday in Costa Rica, I met a nice Canadian girl and we kept in touch through email. When her high scool friend David came to study in Holland, she let me know. So now I'm here to taste real poutine, a fast food dish I already heard about on the Caribbean coast...
According to David, it's a real blue collar dish and is supposed to be "disgusting, soggy and cholesterol laden", though in a good way. The potatoes should ideally be fried in old oil, so the fries get a brownish colour. I'm not allowed to call it "Quebecois", as the love for poutine is more related to the French-Canadian culture than to the geographic boundaries...I have to admit I used to think the two were the same.
This famous dish is not eaten at fancy restaurants, but at the roadside, at home or at hockey rinks all over Canada. But David wouldn't know about that, he isn't fan of this quintessentially Canadian sport. To quote him literally: "I associate hockey with players on steroids...no skill seems to be involved most of the time! I actually prefer long track skating." Hope he doesn't have any hockey loving friends reading this...

To recreate the orginal poutine, it was impossible to find the right ingredients here: the cheese curds on top are best bought in one specific village, and the gravy used is sold specially as "sauce for poutine". But he has improvised before, while studying in Sweden. This time the cheese is Dutch Gouda, and the gravy is "brown sauce" from Knorr.
You fry the potatoes in (preferably old) oil, shake them with salt in a paper bag to distribute the salt and absorb excess oil. Then pour over gravy and

shredded cheese (curds).
Sounds easy, right?
But I think I'll wait till I'm in Canada to try the real thing, instead of

trying to make it myself here in Holland. It actually reminds me a bit of the Dutch "friet speciaal" or a "patatje oorlog"; the first is fries with mayonaise, ketchup and chopped onions, the

second consists of fries with mayonaise and peanut sauce. In these "dishes", the fries on the bottom always end up a bit soggy too. And I never prepare it at home, I always buy it at the snackbar.

After dinner, we head out to the oldest bar in the Hague with some fellow Canadians and I hear for the first time that Canadians are supposed to say "eh?" at the end of every sentence (and "fuckin'eh" when drunk...not the same as "fucking A", by the way). Somehow I've managed to get to know quite a few Canadians without ever noticing them using "eh"!

Meal 36. Slovenian Jota and Štrudel

2006-11-22T17:35:00.000+01:00

In many cases, "love" is the reason my hosts end up in the Netherlands. For Breda, from Slovenia, it took the shape of Bert. A real Groninger, he came to Slovenia as a surveyor 30 years ago (a project involving gas pipelines) and brought Breda back home with him. They now have two grown daughters who speak both Dutch and Slovenian. The long trip by car to Slovenia has been made dozens of times, and they now divide their time between a small village in Groningen and Breda's birthplace back home. I am proudly shown photos of their new "summer home" and of the house Breda grew up in.......a centuries old fort with walls almost 2 meters thick! With walls that thick, they just built the toilet in the wall.

Even so, it could be quite cold in the winter. It was Breda's father's job to get the fire started in the morning. To get warm enough for this task, a stiff drink was needed first! This practice was shared by many businessmen, who would start the day with a nice coffee and cognac at the local café.

The hearty meal Breda is serving tonight is also meant for cold winter nights. We start off with roasted chestnuts from a tree they've planted themselves in the garden. The main dish, Jota, is traditionally served in mountain huts after a long day's work. It consists of some kind of pickled turnip -Kisla Repa-, sausage (both specially brought over from Slovenia), potatoes, brown beans and lard with bacon. Breda's oldest daughter was vegetarian for a long time, but would make an exception for the bacon bits!

Breda's son-in-law, Erik, tells a story about less delicious food. When he helped out at a farm a couple of years back, the vegetables they got for lunch were from jars of preserves from the cellar. They seemed quite old, and the farmer's widow they worked for would scrape off the layer of mold on top before serving the contents. After she died, it turned out there were preserves in the cellar from before World War II!

The positive side is that you can eat 60 year old food without even becoming sick. But Erik says he never really enjoyed those lunches...

The high point of this meal is the apple strudel for dessert. I enjoy watching the preparations almost as much as eating the hot delicacy, sprinkled with powdered sugar. Nowadays, Breda only makes this apple pastry about twice a year, so it is really a special occasion. Although it isn't difficult to make, it does require several steps and a big table, so I don't see myself doing it anytime soon in my cramped student quarters.

After strudel with cappuccino (Slovenia is close to Italy, after all), I receive a Slovenian going away present made by Breda's sister. It's a jar of plum preserves smelling very strongly of rum. I've tried it already and it's great with custard.

Although Breda loves good food, miraculously she still fits in her 30 year old wedding dress and the stylish velvet jacket she is wearing to a party after dinner. Breda and Bert drop me off at the train station on the way to the party and I am left in the cold with a warm feeling inside, contemplating how generous and hospitable people can be to previously unknown guests like me...

If you have the time, a big table and an old table cloth, you can try Breda's Štrudel recipe at home.

Meal 35. Lithuanian Barščiai and Potatoes with Dill

2006-11-11T05:44:00.001+01:00

It's the first time I eat barščiai for this project, but not the first time I eat "borsht", an easier way to spell it in English. As you can see in meal 11, where it al revolves around my father's beetsoup.
Gintare (which means "amber" in Lithuanian) is preparing the soup as her grandmother always did it. This recently graduated sociologist does agree the barščiai she is making is similar to many other beetsoups around the world, though for example in Belarus they would add cabbage.
Secretly I am glad we are not eating another local specialty, smoked pig's ear, which is served as a snack with beer. While Gintare is preparing the potatoes, we sip on tea and gobble up some yummy chocolates she brought from home. She's only really lived in the Netherlands for a short time, but sometimes feels frustrated by the language and the bureaucratic procedures. Recently she was called by a girl, who had found Gintare's name through some list of expat Lithuanians. She called and explained her situation, and Gintare commiserated :"Oh yes, I know how you feel...", but then found out while she had only lived here for 2 months, this girl had lived here for over 3 years!

There aren't that many compatriots in Groningen, though she will also feel immediate bonding with Latvians, who speak almost the same (Baltic) language and have a similar culture.
I ask:"What about Estonians?", also a Baltic state, after all.
"Oh no! They are much more similar to the Finnish...a bit more reserved as well."
Well, that's good to know. I wouldn't be surprised if the Dutch were compared to the Flemish, but I would if they were deemed similar to the Germans.
I will ask the Latvian girl who will be cooking for me in December what her opinion is on the matter...
Vilnius (Lithuania) and Riga (Latvia) are now part of Europe and sadly, both are becoming popular destinations for Brittish "stag parties", involving drunk young lads looking for a cheap alcohol and pretty girls. They don't show too much appreciation for its beautiful baroque city centre.
I hope an advantage of joining the EU is an improvement in dental care. Gintare tells me a story about barbaric practices during her childhood including drilling in teeth without painkillers. She was so scared of the dentist she didn't go for seven whole years. At the end of this period, two weeks of dental work were needed to repair the damage!
The soup is delicious, by the way...Gintare's grandmother would be proud.

The potatoes fried in butter with dill are served on the side and are such an easy and effective side dish, I promise myself to make it one day soon. I have to admit, for the borsht/barščiai I will use my own grandmother's recipe!

For those without these loyalty issues, try the Lithuanian version.

Meal 34. Trinidadian Pelau

2006-11-03T21:50:00.000+01:00

The Trinidadian Pelau Louise is making for me tonight is not 100% typical; the protein component is not the traditional chicken, but vegetarian "Quorn", made from some kind of fungal protein. Sounds a bit weird, but actually tastes good. The pelau is of Indian origin (like half of the inhabitants of Trinidad, including writer V.S.Naipaul), though similar dishes exist - pilau, pilaf, etc. - from many Central Asian and Middle Eastern countries. The Caribbean character of pelau consists of the coconut cream, hot peppers and gungo peas (a bean with a nutty flavour). And the use of caramelized brown sugar.
It reminds me somewhat of the rice 'n peas from my (11th) Jamaican meal.
I ask Louise what differences there are between Jamaica (my only reference in the Caribbean) and Trinidad. She mentions the fact that the Jamaican men that came to study at her university were always bowled over by the beauty of the (straight-haired Indo-) Trinidadian girls on campus. Louise herself is "easy on the eyes" with her wide smile and stylish dreadlocks, as her husband Douwe (with even longer dreads) must acknowledge. I would never have guessed she was a petrochemical engineer, a profession I associate with ambitious young men in suits. But then, what do I know? I've never knowingly met one, Louise is the first. For her job, she has to be away for two-week periods every month, now in a small town in Germany, working on pipelines buried beneath the ocean floor. Too much time separated from Douwe! I'm guessing her parents in Trinidad must miss their three children a lot, as they are all living in Europe at the moment.
We relive Trini culture by leafing through an illustrated dictionary that includes such phrases as Fresh Water Yankee. The definition is: "A Trini who goes to America and comes back acting and talking Yankee. Originally someone acting Yankee without even going overseas, or crossing salt water." Thus the fresh water reference.
In an online version I also find: Sucuyant, "A Trini vampire that sheds its human skin and flies at night as a ball of fire, sucking the blood of its victims while they sleep." I wish Louise was here to explain that one for me now!
Less menacing is the word maco, meaning a nosy person or a gossip. It's also the name of one of Louise's favorite glossy magazines, filled with peeks into rich Caribbean people's lives. We admire the photos of a leafy garden of a stylish house in Curaçao and fantasize about what it would be like sitting on the porch at night. Quickly reality sets in when Douwe realizes: "We would be scratching ourselves like crazy because of all the mosquitoes!"
Oh well, maybe in our ideal Caribbean home, we would need to build a screened porch. In chilly Amsterdam, Douwe and Louise do have some impressive tropical plants, among them a Monstera deliciosa with incredibly glossy leaves. Their trick is dusting them with some kind of silicone gloves...

Feel like more domestic tips?

Click here for Louise's instructions for making Trini Pelau. Chicken or Quorn, you decide.

Meal 33. Iranian Khoresht Fesenjan

2006-11-03T18:46:00.000+01:00

When I meet Vida in person, I am struck by how beautiful and vivacious she is...in our emails beforehand I had just noticed her Dutch was faultless. For this last trait, her husband Eric deserves some of the credit, as he got to know Vida as her tutor of the Dutch language. That he was so eager to teach her voluntarily, might have to do with the first two qualities mentioned!
Together, they have created a very cosy home and two gorgeous and sweet kids, Atousa and Kian. These guys are very happy Vida is making Khoresht Fesenjan tonight, as they love Iranian food, and don't get to eat it all that often. Vida tells me how some of her childhood memories come back when she sees them eat.

They fight over the crisp little potato slices served with the rice, just as Vida and her siblings did way back when.
In general, she finds Iranian food a bit unhealthy, devoid of vegetables, save one exception: the ever-present sabzi (herbs or green vegetables). She has made a beautiful dish of sabzi, with elegantly curled spring onions, and radishes made to look like little flowers. We eat this with feta cheese and thin bread, together this is called Naan-0-Paneer-0-Sabzi. Sounds pretty exotic (and similar to Indian meals with naan and paneer), but it just means "Bread-with-Cheese-with-Herbs".

I am quite amazed by the combination of walnut and pomegranate sauce for the chicken, the Khoresht Fesenjan. The only other nutty sauce I know, is the famous Indonesian peanut sauce (see Meal 31 as well). And I have to admit, I've never made anything with pomegranate. It mostly reminds me of the less innocent grenades, the weapon which is named after this fruit. Vida had a special bottle of Iranian syrup for this recipe, but you can also use pomegranate juice, which is available in most big supermarkets (and which we drink to accompany our meal).
After enjoying our really Iranian food, we are treated to a less typical Toblerone chocolate fondue. Yummy! If you understand Farsi, you can read about it on Vida's own blog.
And to top it all off, our after dinner entertainment is provided by Kian playing the keyboard and Atousa giving us a little concert with her recorder. So sweet...

If you'd like to try the walnut&pomegranate sauce or the bread-with-cheese-with-herbs, click here to view the recipes:

Khoresht Fesenjan
Naan-o-Paneer-o-Sabzi

Meal 32. Japanese Teriyaki Swordfish and Ginger Mackerel

2006-10-31T11:51:00.000+01:00

Yusuke is our cook tonight, together with his good friend and fellow biologist, Nobuto. It seems much preliminary effort has gone into the meal, with Yusuke having bought ingredients on a recent trip to Japan and in a specialized store in Amsterdam.
Everything is served in pretty little dishes, very pleasing to the eye. Which confirms my stereotype of the Japanese as "lovers of beauty".
We start out with some eda-mame...these green soy beans, simply boiled in salt water, are great as a snack with a beer! They have a slightly nutty flavour and it is fun to pop them open in my mouth.
Then Yusuke makes me try an innocent looking pickled plum...it is a taste explosion! They are incredibly salty - so much so that Yusuke claims one ume-boshi is enough to flavour a whole bowl of boiled rice. This meal is called the "Japanese flag", as the round plum in the middle of the rice resembles the red circle on a white backround.
Afterwards, we are served spinach, prepared with soy sauce and sesame seeds, and eaten with chopsticks of course. As well as matchsticks of yama-imo, "mountain potato", a white sticky root flavoured with fish flakes and (again!) soy sauce.
This evening makes me realize how important soy is for Japanese cuisine, and how versatile it is. At left, you see Yusuke happily showing off a pot of miso, the salty fermented soy paste used to add taste to our mackerel.

As we enjoy the swordfish and mackerel skillfully prepared by the two friends, we chat about Yusuke's first impressions of Holland. It turns out he first came here on holiday, to participate in "orienteering camps". He shows a map with little numbers on it and explains that the object is to find all the posts as quickly as possible with just the map and the compass. Quite popular in Holland and Sweden, but I'd never heard of it! He is teaching me stuff about my own country...
When he really came to live here he started noticing curiosities as girl lying in the city parks in their bikinis and wearing such tight pants their waists bulge out on top. Hmmm.
Also, he changes my impression of Japanese as little worker bees, by mentioning they often go out for drinks after work as well as going on many organized trips, e.g. to view the cherry blossoms in spring. Sounds a lot more relaxed than I had imagined.
I am also becoming quite relaxed, maybe because I am drinking the sake like water....somehow it doesn't taste that alcoholic! Yusuke tells me it is good sake he brought from Japan, called something that roughly translates into "White Dragon Like Water". The fact that I don't taste the alcohol is a sign of its pureness.
We finish the delicious meal with a special treat: green tea with floating in the murky water...little gold flakes! It doesn't affect the taste, but it sure looks cool.

Click here if you'd like to make Teriyaki Swordfish or Ginger Mackerel yourself, but be sure to stock up on soy sauce and sake!

Meal 31. Surinamese Pitjel, Telo and Chicken

2006-09-19T07:25:00.000+02:00

Tonight a Surinamese meal with reknowned cook Martin and his girlfriend Liza, in their sunny garden terrace. Martin tells me he could have made many different dishes: Surinam has as many cuisines as it has ethnic groups. His own roots seem to cover the whole spectrum...he's part Chinese, Indian, Creole and Javanese. His great-aunt ("Oma Tjoekop") provided the "Indonesian" part of this meal: the peanut sauce. Though she still lives in Surinam, she is Martin's source of the dried concentrate he needs to make the spicy sauce. "I wouldn't dare prepare this dish without it!" he confesses.
At right, you can see how happy he is with the famous "garterbelt" beans (kouseband), a Surinamese staple ingredient.
Other favorites included in tonight's meal are fried cassava (telo, at left) and fried plantain.
To accompany the food we drink Heineken and Fernandes soft drinks. This local brand started out with "Fernandes Red" and "Fernandes Green", and when those proved immensely popular, expanded its "exotic drinks" imperium with "Blue" and "Yellow". I find it amusing that nobody ever refers to what fruit the drinks are supposed to taste like. (I think the inspiration for Green is apples).
The pitjel is an assembled dish of loose elements that work well together. If we're being poetic, we could say the same about Surinam, a country where people of distinct cultures live together harmoniously.
While enjoying the pitjel with two of Martin's colleagues (from the Netherlands Basketball Federation), we discuss the Surinamese habit of making tjoeries (CHOO-rees). This sign of disapproval consists of pursing the lips and sucking in air as loudly as possible. The lips should be sucked against the teeth, else it doesn't work...
The tjoerie has even been mentioned as early as 1933 in the correspondence of a Dutch missionary to Surinam! Martin and Liza mention that when Surinamese men make flattering remarks to women on the street, the object of their affection will never respond. Only if the remark is highly amusing, will she deign to react...by making a tjoerie. (Warning: Never do this to your parents! It is highly disrespectful! )

Click here if you'd like to recreate this meal (without Oma Tjoekop....)
Peanut sauce
Telo, deep fried cassava
Pitjel, assembled dish

Meal 30. Vietnamese Bò Bóp Thâú (Beef Salad)

2006-07-25T17:46:00.000+02:00

An has lived in the Netherlands for three years now, and has already developed a taste for zuurkool, otherwise known as sauerkraut. She likes to add sugar, thus creating a nice sweet and sour taste. An:"My parents are from the North of Vietnam, and that is where I grew up. In the North, we prefer our food to be quite simple. The predominant taste is salty. I have lived in the South too, where they like sweet dishes. And my husband is from the centre, where the food is spicy!"
Today, the dish is both spicy and a bit sweet. The beef salad, Bò Bóp Thâú, is perfect summer food. The marinated and fried strips of beef are added to a colourful mix of thinly sliced bell peppers.
It's funny to see how An crushes the garlic with the butt of a big knife, instead of with a garlic press. The technique reminds me of the mortar and pestle they use in Indonesia (and elsewhere) to make sambal. The salad itself is eaten by heaping a bit of it on a pieace of krupuk (shrimp cracker) and popping that in your mouth.
In Vietnam An teaches at the university, and now she is doing her Ph.D. here, to gain practical experience for the lab that has just been built back home. The Ph.D. is being paid for by Vietnam and hopefully will guarantee more job stability in the future. I am impressed by the big sacrifice she is making by leaving her husband and young daughter behind...she only gets to see them once a year.
Yes, An says, Vietnam is still a poor country, but things are changing. The last 15 years or so, the country has modernized a bit, becoming more democratic and more open to foreign investments. Why do foreign companies like Vietnam? An: "Well, my guess is it's because the Vietnamese work very hard, are friendly and don't complain!"
"A good thing is that the Vietnamese do not only do the low level work. There is a construction that involves companies employing locals in management positions as well. After five to ten years, only the chief manager is foreign, and after twenty years, the company should be completely Vietnamese!"
If this really works out that way, it does seem like a good development. An's daughter will probably grow up in a very different Vietnam.

Click here for the "French inspired" recipe for beef salad: Vietnamese Bò Bóp Thâú

Meal 29. Chinese Stir fried Chicken with Red Pepper

2006-07-20T17:49:00.000+02:00

Mike has been studying Economics in Maastricht for a few years now. His real name is Jin, but to make is easier for us Europeans, he lets us call him Mike. He tells me that at elementary school, all the pupils get to choose an English name.
Though he is a bit shy about having his photo taken, Mike is very open about everything else and answers all my questions about China...even when I want to know about the little kids with a big hole in their pants instead of diapers!
As I help him take the skin off the chicken legs, we talk about his first weeks in the Netherlands. He still was the typical Chinese guy, and even when he arrived at a friend's place dying of thirst, he didn't dare accept the first offer of a drink. In China, you should politely decline the first two times the host offers you something and then accept the third time. But here his friend just accepted the first no and didn't ask again. Leaving poor Mike with a parched mouth...
Also, when he would give people a light, he would expect them to touch his hands in thanks, which is polite in China. But in Holland this is deemed to be slightly too intimate when your cigarette is being lit by a stranger.
During the preparations I am blown away by the 25 kg bag of rice Mike has in the kitchen. This size would be enough to feed a small family for two months...
The rice is cooked in an electric rice cooker he brought over from Shen Yang, his home town. His cool pan (with Chinese symbols on the bottom) and many of the spices were purchased in a Chinese shop here in Holland.
Mike learnt to cook from his grandmother, but only really started practicing after he came here. He tells me less and less young people know how to cook nowadays, partly because they eat out a lot. The meal he is making for me tonight is a "famous meal", and he has downloaded a recipe from internet to be sure he does everything in the right order. The recipe looks very exotic to me!
The stir frying is a real show, the hot oil sizzling, especially when the omelet mix is thrown in...an enormous puffy omelet appears in just a few seconds. The omelet with tomato is a big success amongst Mike's European friends, probably because of the secret ingredient...sugar! And maybe because of the mysterious "chicken broth mix" from Knorr that Mike adds to the omelet and the chicken dish. The ingredients list corn starch, salt and monosodium glutamate (the famous flavour enhancer ve-tsin).
After everything is done I do my best with the chop sticks and enjoy the spicy chicken, chinese cabbage with glutinous vinegar sauce and sweet omelet with tomato. Mike tells me that if we had been in China, as a host he should have been sitting with his back to the door. This unspoken rule of communication also entails that in restaurants the person sitting in that position is the person that pays! Good to know if I ever make it to China...

Click here for the recipes:
Chinese Stir fried Chicken with Red Pepper
Chinese Sweet Omelet with Tomato

Meal 28. Romanian Mămăligă cu Brânză

2006-07-11T20:38:00.000+02:00

Antoanella and her Dutch boyfriend Herman met while he was on holiday in Romania. Though in the beginning she hardly spoke any English or Dutch nor did he speak any Romanian, by now they've been a couple for many years and live together in Rotterdam. He has learned some Romanian, and Anto's Dutch is good enough to have completed her Master in Physical Geography here. For fun, she's even started on the novels in Herman's alphabetically arranged bookcase. She's already at the end of the B's!
Before dinner, we have wine and some appetizers, including Salată de vinete, aubergine dip with a smoky flavour. Romanian wine is very famous...in Romania. Anto tells about a local wine winning an important medal in Brussels. But when she googled it, the only sites that reported about this prize were Romanian ones.
Besides wine, (home-brewed) strong liquor is a big favourite in Romania. When travelling by bus or train, it's common that people will go round with plastic cups and 2 L coke bottles with some kind of moonshine. Even if it's 10 o'clock in the morning...this makes travelling by public transport quite fun!
Though a Romanian host will unvaryingly offer ample amounts of food and drink to visitors, it wasn't always that easy to come by ingredients. Anto recalls how during the Communist era, Christmas would mean waiting in line for meat for days. Families would queue in shifts so as not to lose their place in line. The best job during those days was in a shop, even a shoestore. That way, you could trade shoes for food.
Anto's grandfather worked at a farm collective, and with six kids it was sometimes hard to feed them all. He was allowed to take home hay, so would sometimes smuggle along little bags with milk hidden amongst the hay.
Nowadays, Romania is actually doing pretty well according to Anto, and she doesn't really understand why Dutch people still send trucks full of food, clothing and toys to her country. Many other countries are a lot poorer...but she and Herman think the Dutch that started sending over help after the fall of Communism just enjoy their time in Romania. Nice food and drink, locals happy with the gifts...why change the routine? If the food served there is similar to what Antoanella is serving, I certainly wouldn't! After the appetizers, we start with Mămăligă cu Brânză, a kind of polenta with a choice of butter, yoghurt, sour cream and feta like cheese that can be added to taste. The next course is a delicious stuffed pepper, which should be served with bread. Actually, everything should be served with bread in Romania, even if it's a carb laden dish like lasagna or rice. Bread is also used as a kind of utensil, you eat with a fork in one hand and a piece of bread in your other one, to fold around meat or to soak up the sauce. Spoons and knives are hardly ever used.
Our last course is pumpkin pastry made with filo dough. In the Netherlands we aren't familiar with pumpkin in sweet dishes, but I love it! Antoanella assures me all these dishes are easy to make, although the aubergine dip does take some time. If you'd like to try, click on these links for the recipes:

Salată de vinete (aubergine dip)
Mămăligă cu Brânză (polenta with cheese)
Ardei umpluţi (stuffed green pepper)
Plăcintă cu dovleac (pumpkin pastry)

Meal 27. Catalan Pa amb Tomàquet and Patatas a la Riojana

2006-07-10T19:17:00.000+02:00

Elena is one of the few Spaniards I know who has taught herself Dutch within a year...most of them concentrate on learning English and stop after five words of Dutch! I don't really blame them, but it does make Elena's accomplishment even more impressive.
She lives in Utrecht with her husband, Javier, and together they have planned an "inter-regional" Spanish meal. Elena is from Barcelona and will make the famous Catalan Pa amb Tomàquet, and Javier will prepare a potato stew from his region, Rioja. Most people will know of it through it's famous wines...usually Rioja is the only wine people know from Spain. They must have a good PR department! Although cava, from Catalonia, is becoming quite well known by now too. Though by now, I have visited quite a lot of Catalonia, in the beginning it was a big surprise to find out it was such a separate region, with it's own culture and language (Pa amb Tomàquet would be Pan con Tomate in Castillian Spanish).
Some foreign students who come to Barcelona on exchange make this same mistake, thinking that speaking Spanish should be enough to follow courses in Spain.
Though Elena and Javier do love their country, they seem to have adapted to Holland amazingly well. They even are okay with just buying a sandwich for lunch and eating it while walking to the next appointment! While in Spain, lunch usually is the meal of the day with three courses and a glass of wine...
They praise the Dutch custom of students moving out of the parental house when they start studying. "It makes you independent earlier on in life," says Elena. Many young people in Spain only move out when they get married. Partly it's a "cultural thing", partly the rent is just too high, especially in Barcelona.
The Pa amb Tomàquet is fun to prepare; rubbing on garlic cloves and tomato halves till only the skin is left, then drizzling on olive oil and sprinkling on some salt. Here at left you see me rubbing on the tomato. The added flavours make the bread infinitely superior to just plain old bread and taste great with Spanish ham like Serrano or Manchego cheese.
The potato stew Javier prepares is an old favorite, you won't find it at a fashionable tapas restaurant...but the chorizo sausage gives it a spicy twist. It's definitely not hard to make, so if you can get chorizo, you should give it a try:

Patatas a la Riojana (recipe)

Pa amb Tomàquet (recipe)

Meal 26. Flemish Witloof uit den Oven

2006-07-04T18:31:00.000+02:00

When I arrive at Laura's house in Leiden, I can already see her cooking through the kitchen window. As you can see in the photos, she has adopted the "typically Dutch" custom of leaving the curtains open which lets passers-by easily look in. Laura's parents, when visiting from Belgium, have laughed at this feature, as well as at the incredibly narrow and steep staircases used in this crowded country to save space.
The thing I notice most myself when entering Belgian Flanders by train is that the houses there seem a bit dirtier and less well-kept. But Laura, who is originally from Antwerp, tells me her impression is that as she leaves the Netherlands, she can start breathing. In Belgium, there is more space, and more freedom in building styles. Funny how we have different interpretations of crossing a border!
While preparing the Flemish meal for tonight, Laura exhibits the art of "cooking with one arm", as her left arm is holding daughter Nandana. This typical image recalls the traditional role of the mother in the kitchen...but in fact, both Laura and her Dutch husband Alex have busy careers at Leiden University. Laura even praises Dutch men in general and Alex in particular for being quite emancipated. Her Belgian girlfriends, she smiles, are already impressed if their partners do the dishes...
During the cooking, Nandana is either held in Laura's arm, holding on to her skirt or playing with a jar of rice kernels on the countertop (a useful trick if you want two free arms to cook...).
Once the casserole of Belgian endives, Witloof, is "in den Oven", she is brought upstairs and put to bed.
I enjoy a glass of champagne with Alex, and learn that this is a typical Belgian custom. In Holland, we only drink it to celebrate some special event, but there is common to drink it with an everyday meal. Laura praises the Vranken, an affordable, good quality brand "that made champagne accessible to all Belgians". Sadly it is unavaible here.
Though the Netherlands and Belgian Flanders used to be one country, there are quite a few differences in culture. After sixteen years of life in the Netherlands, Laura says a few of the things that come to mind are that Belgians seem a bit more "family oriented", are less direct/open (e.g. would not discuss toilet paper qualities over dinner) and don't talk about money as much as the Dutch!
The Witloof uit den Oven, Belgian endives rolled in ham and covered in cheese sauce before going in the oven, is served with a generous serving of mashed potatoes. It reminds me a lot of my own mother's traditional Dutch meals with Belgian endives...the two countries do share quite a few customs. Although Laura is greatly disappointed in the selection of potatoes in our supermarkets, they don't have the right ones to make French fries! Actually I should say Flemish fries or Belgian fries, as their thick variety is especially delicious, crisp on the outside and soft on the inside. There is even a whole website dedicated to Belgian fries, which traditionally are served with a good steak or mussels.
Laura herself is curious what the Walloon meal will be like...this region of Belgium where French is spoken is almost a separate country so certainly deserves a separate entry in this blog!

Here is the link for the recipe (quite easy to make!):
Flemish Witloof in den Oven

Meal 25. Portuguese Bacalhau com Natas

2006-06-20T17:16:00.001+02:00

Though Hugo avows he eats this meal "all the time", he has to admit it's the first time he's prepared it himself. Usually he eats it at weddings or his mom makes it. The very Portuguese main ingredient is codfish, though this fish does not actually swim in Portuguese waters. It is such an important fish a whole book is dedicated to it: "Cod, the Biography of the Fish that Changed the World".

To make the dried and salted fish palatable, it must be left to soak in water for 24 hours to soften it and to remove the salt. According to Hugo there are 1001 ways to prepare it, but Bacalhau com Natas, codfish with cream and potatoes, is his favorite. One thing he didn't realize beforehand was that it would take 45 minutes just to shred and debone the fish! For the lazy cook, pre-shredded cod exists, but it wasn't available in Amsterdam, where Hugo lives now. He is originally from Coimbra, a beautiful old university town.
Of course the onions and potatoes must be fried only in Portuguese olive oil. Even our fruit juice is from a Portuguese specialty shop and the white port we drink was a present from a friend.
While the fish, red onions, potatoes and cream are in the oven, we talk a bit about Portugal's rich history. It used to be a very influential maritime empire, especially in the 15th and 16th century. Macau was the last vestige of this wide array of territories, and was turned over to China as late as 1999.
Hugo is actually researching one of the less tangible results of the his country's presence in India: the Portuguese creole language. The t-shirt he is wearing (at left) reads: "I got spat all over India", referring to the habit of spitting betel juice on-amongst others- innocent tourists.

Digging into the Bacalhau, I understand its appeal. It is real comfort food. I eat such a heaping the dessert, Tigelada, hardly fits anymore. This sweet custard is made with eggs, milk, sugar and port. Hugo serves "real Portuguese tea" to go with it, from the Azores. These islands, are the only part of Portugal where tea is harvested, and are a popular holiday destination.
We chat about one of the other, more typical, Portuguese export products: cork.
Wine bottles nowadays are often stopped with plastic corks, which Hugo explains, is more harmful to the environment, as it is not biodegradable or renewable, as natural cork is. I must admit, I had never given this subject much thought.

Now: an innovation on this website: links to recipes. Many people have asked for recipes. Though I did sometimes link to external recipe sites, from now on I'll try to give good English recipes for the dishes mentioned on the site.
Hugo's Portuguese Bacalhau com Natas
Tigelada

Meal 24. Balinese Babi Manis

2006-06-06T14:03:00.000+02:00

Cok, Wayan en Komang all are from Bali and are in the Netherlands to help out at the Pasar Malam Besar in the Hague, a big "Eurasian culture" festival. For Cok and Komang, it is already the second time they visit here, for Wayan (Komang's sister), it's a first. At left, she has created a miniature Bali at my parents' home, crouching the Indonesian way to peel the bawang merah (small red onions).
The white garlic, ginger and assorted plastic bags with chicken broth and noodles also are imported directly from Bali. I think the mie noodles have a strange blue tinge, and am happy that tonight we'll just have rice, with pork, tofu, tempeh and assorted vegetables. To assure that everyone will enjoy the meal, the spicy sauce is not added to the meat, but put in a separate bowl.
At right, you can see the basic ingredients of a Balinese sauce; first terasi (fermented shrimp paste), then garlic and the red onions. They so similar they are called white and red garlic (bawang putih and bawang merah). The knife is also typically Indonesian.

On Bali they are also Hindu, so beef is a no-no. Pork, chicken, fish, shrimp and the vegetarian tofu and tempeh are the main protein sources. Though I usually don't find tofu and tempeh that appetizing, Cok manages to make it crisp and tasty. At left you can see her chopping the tempeh.
When dinner is served, I notice that especially Wayan is handling her knife and fork with caution. It turns out that she is only using them because I am there...with my parents, she feels more at ease and just eats with her hands, like she would at home.
An interesing thing about Bali is how they name their children. Wayan is the first-born, Made the second born, Komang the third and Ketut the fourth. After that the cycle starts again! In this case, Komang is responsible for the family because he is the oldest son. Wayan is his adik, his little sister, the fifth-born. Because these names are so common, things can get a bit confusing with 200 Ketuts in one village. That is why nicknames are popular.
After dinner we watch "Garuda TV Yours!", the Indonesian channel here in Holland. Most of the shows seem to be made to attract tourists, but the show we watch is pretty interesting. It is about a family that had twins. According to Balinese adat, local laws, the birth of female-male twins must be treated differently. The so-called buncing twins are supposed to live in an isolated area for the first months of their lives. This show was about a young couple who lived by the adat laws, until the boy twin became ill. Disobeying the laws, they left the isolated hut they lived in to bring their son to the hospital. According to the local priests the couple now could not be sure of a pleasant after-life. Somehow, to be absolved, they were expected to pay the amazing sum of 400 euros to the priest. For Bali, this is an incredible amount of money.
So, with Komang and Cok we discuss what these young parents were supposed to do. They are definitely sympathetic towards the father's dilemma. It is difficult to obey laws if it means risking your son's life!

Meal 23. Turkish feast, Syrian style

2006-05-22T20:36:00.000+02:00

When my hosts make too many different dishes, it's hard to choose which ones I should put in the title. So, to make it easier for myself, I just call it a "feast". And when I walk into Julia's kitchen, I am certainly struck by what a feast she has prepared for me. The menu tonight is "Syrian-Turkish", because Julia's grandparents are originally from Syria. They lived in a purely Syrian neighbourhood in M ersin and mostly spoke Arabic. Julia (officially spelled Hülya) can understand Arabic, but hardly speaks it. Turkish is no problem, she even worked as an interpreter for a while, jetting back and forth to Istanbul close to a hundred times.
Still, she sees herself more as "Arab-Turkish" than as "Turkish". Her parents also stimulated her to find a husband within the Arab community. Not that much has changed...Julia's niece in Istanbul is marrying a "real" Turk, and that was the most important thing that could be said about him. "Ah well, there aren't that many Arab Turks in Istanbul...", explained the father of the bride-to-be. Before meeting Julia, I had never heard of the Syrian community in Turkey, but I'm learning fast. First of all, there's a difference between the Christian (Orthodox) Syrians and the "Arab" Islamic Syrians, who live in the South-East. She tells me how in the sixties/seventies, her uncle was an engineer for a big mining company, but to maintain this position, his Arab roots were kept secret. His parents could not even visit him, because their Arabic accent would give them away.
So is this meal truly non-Turkish? I recognize the stuffed grape leaves! But no, this is the pretty similar Sarma, which means "rolled". The stuffing is a bit different, as it also includes meat. Also familiar is the Börek (bread with feta cheese) and the Lahmacun ("Turkish pizza"); the word comes from the Arabic Lahm al acun,which means "meat on bread".
The Humus (chickpea dip) and Baba gannuç (aubergine dish) do seem less Turkish, though not exclusively Syrian.
Julia has made all these dishes herself, with one exception; the İçli Köfte. These snacks made of bulghur and filled with meat were so complicated to prepare that Julia's mother was summoned to help out. As a child, Julia once asked her mom why the other kids at school went home and had sandwiches for lunch. They themselves had a warm meal every afternoon (as well as in the evenings).
"Well," her mother answered, "probably those families don't have that much money..."
That was the only explanation she could give for such behaviour (in retrospect just typical Dutch food culture).
After about ten different dishes I have to unbutton my jeans again...and there is still dessert! The Şam Tatlısı, made with cream-of-wheat and yoghurt, officially means "Sweets from Damascus". The capital of Syria is also called "ash-Sham", meaning "the Northern". Julia tells me she took Arabic as a minor at university, but especially the Arabic script was very difficult to learn.
It would actually be interesting to ask a "real Syrians" what they make of this meal. Is it similar to what they make, or has it been "Turkified"?
With the Damascan dessert and a cup of tea, Julia and I sit down to enjoy the Eurovision Song Festival. Quite amusing, especially the Finnish monster hard-rockers! We both make a top ten of who we think will win. This makes the results even more exciting, especially since the non-typical Finnish entry wins by a landslide.

Meal 22. Curaçaoan Kabritu Stobá and Funchi

2006-05-17T21:35:00.000+02:00

Guiselle was a bit hesitant to be "the chosen one" to make a Curaçaoan meal for this project, because she usually doesn't cook any traditional meals. Partly because her boyfriend is a strict vegetarian. However, somehow she managed to convince him to go to the butcher for tonight's Kabritu Stobá, stewed goat's meat (but he won't be joining us!). Guiselle has had this dish often enough at home, but never made it on her own. She got a little help with the recipe from her mom (by phone) and her friend Rayla's grandmother (by email). She invited her friends Rayla and Diana to come by to help with the preparations...but when I arrive Guiselle jokes: "As true Curaçaoans, of course they will be at least an hour late!"

And indeed, they are...when they arrive they're very impressed by all the dishes Guiselle has already prepared: the Kabritu Stobá, which has been marinated in lemon juice since the night before, Banana Hasa (fried plantains) and Funchi (cooked cornmeal). Plus some rice with vegetables and a fresh salad (home-grown lettuce) with feta.
For those who have never heard of Curaçao; it's an island off the coast of Venezuela that is part of the "Dutch Antilles" which is a self-governing part of the Kingdom of the Netherlands. They have their own coin, stamps, etc., but all inhabitants have the Dutch nationality and travel on a Dutch passport. Though Curaçao does have it's own university, many high school graduates come to the Netherlands to study. Guiselle tells me that before coming, she received a little course to prepare her for Dutch society. Here we have a little hallway before arriving in the living room, in Curaçao the front door often opens right into it. Movies were shown so that students would know what to expect. But it didn't prepare them for Dutch weather! Rayla tells about her first winter here...one day she was walking down the street with a friend and all of a sudden little white balls came falling from the sky. "What is this?!", she asked. The answer was:"Hailstones!"
She was so excited to actually see them in real life, she stayed outside in wonder while everybody else fled inside. Afterwards she called her mother to tell her about this novel experience. Guiselle laughs:"I also called my mom, after seeing snow for the first time!"
Over dinner, while enjoying Izaline Calister's songs, the three friends all agree the Kabritu tastes just like it's supposed to. We're all a bit disappointed in dessert, though...the Kesiyo tastes like a sweet omelet instead of like caramel custard! Guiselle is the first to say it, so we don't feel too bad for not finishing it. But she has tea and home-baked raisin cake to appease us.
While we're washing the dishes (at left), they recall the "bubbling" parties at high school. Lights would be dimmed and girls would be standing against the walls with boys dancing closely behind them. When the parents would come and have a look, everybody would be innocently dancing about a meter apart. Mom and dad gone? Up against the wall! Sadly, the parents did find out after a while and bubbling parties were no longer allowed...
Some guys they knew from high school are now in a popular reggaeton group called Immorales.
The girls laugh at their lewd lyrics and "street image", as they recall:"They used to be such nice, well-mannered boys!"

Meal 21. English Shepherd's Pie and Trifle

2006-05-17T20:37:00.000+02:00

My friend Marianna is renowned for her trifle, so I more or less forced her to make it as a dessert for this "English meal". The main course I left up to her, and she found it a bit more difficult to decide on. Shepherd's Pie? A good "classic" dish that Marianna's mum made often, even though she was originally from Poland.
Just to be sure she would be serving up the "real" Shepherd's Pie, Marianna googled recipes on internet and it turns out the official Shepherd' Pie contains ground lamb meat. If it's just ground beef, the dish is supposed to be called "Cottage Pie".
Anyway, both are traditional Sunday dinners in England, and a great way to use any leftover vegetables you might have lying around.
You basically fry up the vegetables, some onions and the ground beef, put it in a dish, top it with mashed potatoes and pop it in the oven. (Actually, people all over the world make it, I think, but don't give it a nice name...)
While Marianna is preparing dinner, we discuss food linguistics again. (See the Scottish meal)
What she calls dinner, other English people call tea. According to Marianna, in New Zealand, they also call it tea. To call the evening meal tea seems very strange to us both, as you don't really drink tea with it!
Not that tea isn't important for her. She recently went back to the UK and surprised herself by taking back home a whole box of Twining's "Everyday" tea. Just because it tasted so much better than most tea you can buy in the Netherlands. It seems a very English thing to do.
In general, Marianna is quite assimilated and even fears adaptation problems when she goes back to the UK after graduation. In the end, all of her adult life was spent here, she knows "how things work". Heading back will mostly be motivated by the job opportunities there, else she would have stayed in the Netherlands for at least a few more years.
Another English standard is the Sunday roast, but generally, Marianna's parents favoured a more international cuisine.
For eating out, fish 'n chips is a classic, but seems to have been surpassed in popularity by "going for a curry". Marianna:"That's actually one of the things I miss: a good curry! There are hardly any good Indian restaurants here, while back home you can find a curry shop on every corner, more or less." I ask her why she doesn't buy some ready made curry sauce at the supermarket, but she professes to being too lazy to make her own Indian meal.
The Shepherd's Pie is fine, it feels healthy as well because Marianna added lots of vegetables. But of course I'm really waiting for the trifle! Yummy!
It consists of several layers: sponge cake, custard, red gelatin pudding and fruit. I'm not sure in which order, but the layers may be repeated. If you put it in a glass bowl you can admire all the different colours. The last layer is custard with some chocolate shavings to make it look good...it tastes fantastic. And of course, it's also very healthy because it contains a lot of fruit.

Meal 20. Colombian Bandeja Paisa

2006-05-11T17:03:00.000+02:00

Hector and Beatriz live in an international student flat in Amsterdam... sometimes kitchen utensils disappear and appear mysteriously. They rotate between the floors. When something essential is missing, they know now they should just scout around for it in the other kitchens.
Yesterday, Hector and Beatriz were exploring "exotic shops" to find the ingredients for this meal, the first Bandeja Paisa they've made since arriving in the Netherlands more than half a year ago.This protein and carb loaded platter is traditional fare for farmworkers who need the energy. Though Hector and his friend Ernesto are biologists and Beatriz a journalist, they obviously all have a nostalgic connection with this dish. It hails from the Antioquia province and they all, more or less, have roots from that area. Paisa is just another word meaning "from the region around Antioquia".
While Ernesto is pressing limes (with a fork!) for the Agua de Panela con Limón, Beatriz is preparing the eight different elements of the Bandeja Paisa. Frijoles antioqueñas (beans with plantain), chorizo (sausage), costillas de cerdo (ribs), patacones (deep fried plantain), rice, avocado, a fried egg and hoga'o (a tomato-onion sauce).
The preparations give us time to chat. Beatriz recalls how she was the only woman working in the newsroom at the time; her male colleagues would always try to make her do the "beauty queen" type items. I thought this wouldn't be a big deal, just once a year, but it appears that in Colombia there can be different Miss elections every month. But by now there are more women working in the newsroom. Beatriz herself moved on to a position as PR officer for the Colombian Red Cross, where she got to know a lot about Colombian society and where she met her husband, Hector.
He came to the Netherlands to do an ecology master's programme and recounts how one Dutch girl was genuinely surprised to hear universities existed in Colombia. Ernesto quips: "Actually we are used to walking around in grass skirts and hunting with a bow and arrow! These jeans and t-shirts take getting used to!"
One thing that does shock me (though I did know a bit about Colombia's situation) are the references to violence. Casually, Ernesto jokes about his mom running over the "bomb detection mirror" at the entrance of a mall. I didn't even know this procedure existed! The underside of every car that entered the parking lot at this mall was checked for bombs. Well...until Ernesto's mother destroyed the mirror!
He also mentions moving from his childhood home when he was 18, because of an armed robbery during which the gardener was shot to death.
On to a lighter topic: we discover that we were all born from mothers over 35 years old, though Beatriz and Hector are from big families (14 and 7 siblings respectively!) and Ernesto is an only child. They tell me the traditional way to spend weekends with the extended family is to gather at a finca (there is always an uncle in the family that has a farm) and eat and eat. Depending on the family, drinking can also be a way to pass the time together.
Time to dig in...the crisp patacones are great with the hoga'o sauce. Though I wouldn't recommend this meal to people who are watching their weight, it is great comfort food!
Dessert is the refreshing agua de panela made with unrefined cane sugar and lime juice.
A cup of tea and a walk around the block give our bodies time to digest this impressive meal.

Meal 19. German Schnecken- and Dampfnudelen

2006-05-09T13:16:00.000+02:00

As I enter the kitchen, Nils (a 26-year-old Philosophy student) has already filled the air with aromas of sizzling meat. He is busy making pastry rolls and explains to me how the left pan contains his paternal grandmother and the right pan his maternal one. Excuse me? Have I encountered a younger, more charming version of the famous German cannibal? But no, the truth is more banal. The left pan contains Schneckennudeln (in the shape of a snail) and the right one Dampfnudeln (round balls). The different versions were favoured by his two different grandmothers.
But he taught himself how to make them while in University. You have to feed yourself somehow, and spaghetti with tomato sauce can get a bit boring after a while...
The "snail rolls" can be eaten as a sweet pastry or with a savoury sauce. Tonight's sauce consists of beef cubes, onions and rich cream. You are actually supposed to add mushrooms to the mix, as I discovered when I mentioned the lack of vegetables to Nils ("Oops! And it says 'Mushrooms are healthy' on the box!"). But it still tastes fine, so they are obviously not an essential ingredient. Who needs vegetables?
Over dinner we discuss the German quote by Feuerbach "Man ist was man isst" (You are what you eat), but Nils doesn't find it a very interesting quote as far as philosophy goes. I think it is all I remember from my overenthusiastic German teacher who was also a philosophy buff. (Although I have a vague recollection of Nietzche and the Ubermensch as well...)
Nils shows me his orange t-shirt he bought in honour of the World Cup and I tell him about the less tastefull orange nazihelmets that are being marketed as football gadgets.
Over coffee I ask if he misses German pastry and he tells me just the other day he had been desperately wandering through Amsterdam looking for something like a Konditorei (for coffee and cakes like the famous Sachertorte).
What about differences between Ossies and Wessies? Is there anything he still notices after being re-united for more than 15 years? Nils tells me that first of all there are some language difficulties, because in the more than 40 years the two parts were separated, some different meanings developed for the same words.
Also, Ossies (he is a Wessie) appear to him to be more group-minded, less individualistic than the West-Germans. Hmmm...should I get an Ossie to cook for me to get their opinion?

Meal 18. Scottish Stovies, Neeps and Black Pudding

2006-05-08T19:25:00.000+02:00

When I told people I would be having a Scottish meal soon, most of them grimaced and exclaimed:"Haggis!"
This dish of sheep's stomach filled with assorted offal (the internal organs e.g. lungs, heart, liver) and oatmeal is the most (in)famous representative of Scottish Cuisine. Though if drinks count as well, whisky is of course even more famous, and seen in a more positive light.
Anna (an old high school friend) and her 100% Scottish father Hugh, actually do have haggis about once a month. They buy it at a specialty store called Jungle Jim's, but sadly, none was available in time for this "80 meals" dinner.
So now I can discover what the Scots have to offer besides haggis, which I have to admit is all I knew about their kitchen.
When I arrive, the table is all set and a beautiful stuffed fox presides over the table. Normally its place is on the tv. Seeing it makes me wonder aloud if the purpose of foxhunting is to catch the fox and eat it or only to "control the population", because they are seen as chicken robbers. Hugh doesn't really answer the questions by replying: "Foxhunting is actually a typically English occupation and us Scots prefer Englishmen over foxmeat!"
The tone is set for the evening. And I don't have to worry about the justification of a separate Scottish entry...
I hardly believe him when he tells me the starter is called cockaleekie soup. This name seems so strange to my ears, I start thinking Hugh has just made some food, invented Scottish sounding names for it, and hopes to get a good laugh out of me believing all this hogwash.
But both Anna and her sister Lucy adamantly assure me this chicken and leek soup is a real Scottish recipe.
Hardly have we finished the cockaleekie or Hugh heads out to the kitchen and returns with Neeps (turnips), Stovies (peppered potatoes and onions) and Black and White Pudding.
The "pudding" consists of fried slices of sausage made with oatmeal and pigs' blood (the black pudding) or pigs' fat (the white pudding). Surprisingly good, I must say. Anna tells me haggis tastes more or less the same...so next time I am offered some, I won't fear it as much as I did before.
We talk about why Hugh left the UK. It turns out the main reason was Maggie Thatcher and her conservative MP Kenneth Clarke, who more or less personally "killed" the project he was working on about government expenditures. So he moved out to the Netherlands, working as a mathematical statistician - as far as I could understand - improving logistics for transportation companies.
After the filling main meal comes more "pudding", confusingly a word used for sausage as well as for all desserts. I ask: "Isn't calling dessert pudding seen as somewhat lower class?" A friend of mine told me this and wanted to see if it was a generalized concept.
"No...I believe that is a middle class hang up," quips Hugh. According to him, extreme class consciousness is also more English than Scottish.
In this case, "pudding" is an absolutely delicious Crowdie (see Anna with crowdie at right) made with oatmeal, fresh raspberries, blueberries and a glass of 15 year old rum. The rum is from the WW, a bar about 6 meters down the street and a surrogate living room for Hugh and Anna. They sometimes even take their glasses home with them and bring them back the next day.
We end the meal with a short photosession (it's difficult to catch Hugh with both eyes open and not looking excessively dour) and he lends me his treasured "European cookbook", a well-worn tome from about 40 years back.
I leave with Anna (a student of fiscal law) and her duvet to drop her off at her boyfriend's well organized squat, where she can study in peace.

Meal 17. Jewish-American Borsht, Challah and Blintzes

2006-04-25T17:51:00.000+02:00

Tonight's meal is special, because my own father, Walter, is the chef! My mother, Lexa, gave the project a kick start by making Dutch stamppot, and now it's my father's turn to show off his skills. I think you will all be impressed by the enormous challah he made. This braided white bread is a family favourite, and has seen many variations. Lexa usually does the braiding, and has made challahs with more than 3 strips, round challah, and has even made letters with the dough. The challah at right is a classic, though. The bottom layer consists of 5 strips and the top one of 3. The beautiful shine comes from the egg yolk glazing that is applied with a brush.
Walter has given much thought to what to serve for a "typically Jewish-American" meal. Of course, what is typical depends on family history, so he has chosen dishes that he knows from his own family, which has Russian-Jewish roots a few generations back.
As a starter, raw herring, chopped liver on matzes, and Walter's home-made pickles are served. You could say these are an "acquired taste", as not everybody will enjoy the distinctive flavours. My own favorite is the pickles; nice and garlicky.
The main course is borsht, a recipe that some people might associate more with "Russian" than with "Jewish-American". The beet soup with beef and onions is brought to taste with sour cream...for those who eat kosher this would be a no-no, as you are not supposed to eat meat and dairy products together, this would be "cooking the calf in its mother's milk".
Another rule is not eating pork (a dietary rule more religions have in common). Walter actually doesn't really have a problem with eating pork, but in college the meat served was usually so disgusting, he decided to tell the cook he was kosher. In a dorm of about 50 people, only 2 people ate kosher. This meant the cook would have to pay a little more attention to the kosher meat, and it tasted somewhat better than the pork served to the other students. Walter confides another trick for surviving dormitory food is developing a taste for hot sauce and horse radish, to mask/improve the taste of what is served.
No need for that with this delicious soup. I dip the buttered challah in to soak up the liquids, then start on the cooked beet and beef cubes. Once in a while I bite on a whole pepper kernel, left in "just to make things exciting".
My dad jokingly suggests I take a photo of him peeing in the bath tub, to show how beets make your urine red, but I decide not to take him up on his offer... A discussion follows on the effect of asparagus on urine's aroma, and I am glad I already finished my bowl of borsht.
Looking forward to dessert: blintzes! These thin pancakes are a bit like French crepes, but are always -as far as I know- filled with a sweet cream cheese mixture. They are not very hard to make, but you need some "pan-handling" skills to get the crepes perfect. Here's a photo of Walter concentrating on flipping the frying pan just right.
There's a joke he often tells when blintzes come up in a conversation:

Moshe is a poor carpenter doing a job at a rich Jewish family. One night, he witnesses the wife making blintzes for her husband. It smells and looks so good, that when he gets home, Sam says to his wife: "Sarah, why don't you make blintzes for us? That's what they were eating at my employer's house and it looked really good!" Sarah answers: "But Moshe, we don't have any butter...you need butter to make good blintzes!" "Ach, Sarah, you are such a good cook, I am sure that you can make blintzes without butter!" "But Moshe, we don't have eggs either..." "Sarah, you are such a great cook, I know you can make blintzes without eggs!" In the end, Sarah does her best and serves the butterless, eggless blintzes. Moshe eats them and muses: "Hmmm, I really don't know why these rich people like their blintzes so much!"

Well...I guess it's funnier when my dad tells it!
We top the blintzes with homemade blackcurrant jelly (blackcurrants from Walter's garden), and after two of them, I am completely stuffed. It's especially the cream cheese inside that makes it so filling.
The nice thing about the photo at left is the plate, which used to be my grandma's: in a way the inspiration for this meal. The EKJ (somewhat deteriorated by our dishwasher) are her initials. The plate was a wedding present made by her father, who was a first generation immigrant to the USA. We even have an original photo of him painting ceramics in Russia (now Ukraine) -and another of him serving in the tsarist army with a big fur hat...

Meal 16. Indian feast, Bihari style

2006-03-21T11:02:00.000+01:00

Tonight´s feast is being prepared by Anjana, a Ph.D. student from Bihar, a region in the North of India (she´s originally from a small town, Patna. Later her family moved to New Delhi and even later to Bombay). Also present is her friend Saraju, from North India as well.
During the preparations Anjana explains that as a Hindu, she is not allowed to eat beef, but she laughingly reasons that only the Indian cows are holy, not the Dutch, Australian or whatever the country of origin of the beef sold in the Netherlands is. She is sure it is not Indian.
For tonight´s keema with peas she visited all the supermarkets in town and none of them had ground lamb meat, so beef it is. This topic reminds me of something that happened to Irfan, another friend from Bihar. Waiting for someone at a Dutch trainstation, he was accosted by a hurried Indian, who started speaking to him in Hindi about beef. This man had come to Holland only to preach the importance of not eating beef. Irfan nodded politely and the Hindu evangelist went his way, without having asked if Irfan was actually Hindu. In fact, he is a Muslim, so the whole beef thing isn´t an issue for him.
While Anjana is preparing a treat of deep fried aubergine, she tells me about her youth. Though she is in essence a ¨city girl¨, she knows about country life, as she visited her father´s village (Farda, on the Ganges river) every year. In India the father´s village is more important than the mother´s birthplace. And in Anjana´s case, her mother´s village was difficult to get to. A full day´s travel, including a 13 km walk (difficult for small children). Her mother´s little sister would be picked up and brought to the village in a palanquin, but this deluxe treatment wasn´t available for a whole family.
I ask: ¨No donkeys to help transport the kids and the luggage?¨
Anjana laughs and answers:¨No...but before, my mother´s family had two elephants to help with the transport! But those are long dead by now...¨
Much has changed in Indian society besides the elephants; Anjana´s mother married her father as a young girl in an arranged marriage. By now, most of Anjana´s friends follow higher education, work (at least for a while) and have a say in their future husband. However, Anjana is the first of her circle of friends to leave India to get her Ph.D. in ¨the West¨. This was a big decision, as it wasn´t the path her family would have chosen for her. Nonetheless they are very proud of her and hope that her younger sisters will follow her example.
Then Saraju arrives, bringing ice creams as a gift. Anjana protests: she feels that as they are good friends, Saraju needn´t always bring presents...she is welcome empty-handed as well!
When the aubergine is done, we take spicy chicken wings from the oven and head over to Anjana´s room. The table is completely filled with the chicken wings, the keema (ground beef) with peas, dhal (lentils), rice with veggies (boro ki saabzi) and the deep fried battered aubergine (baigan ka bachka). These last two dishes are very typical for the Bihar region of India.
We drink red wine to go with the meal...Saraju explains that as a Brahmin (the highest caste) you are not supposed to drink from the glass. The liquid should be poured from the glass into the mouth without the two touching. This way, you can share the glass with other people. Drinking from a bottle or a glass directly is seen as a way of saying:¨This is my water!¨ and is thus very impolite.
But the Brahmin have many other rules as well. For example, younger people may not sit at a higher level than their elders in the same room. Anjana is not Brahmin, but has often visited their homes and mostly knows what not to do. Though one time she was sitting next to a Brahmin friend who kept hissing:¨Down! Down!¨ Anjana already was keeping her head down low, as is the custom, but trying to adapt she inclined her head even more, till her chin was touching her chest....and still her friend was telling her, ¨Down! Down!¨
At last, it turned out it was her leg that was supposed to be lowered, crossed legs were not comme il faut...
Though Anjana and Saraju are impressed by my eating-with-my-hand abilities, I fail miserably when I try to drink without touching the wine glass. The liquid dribbles on my chin and on my shirt. Luckily, I was smart enough to try with water, and not with the red wine!

Meal 15. Czech Bramborová polévka and žemlovka

2006-03-21T09:19:00.000+01:00

My Czech linguist host, František has somehow created the stage for a Babylonian scene; English, Dutch, Czech and Indonesian are spoken in rapid succession.
František himself does research on the languages of Indonesia, his friend Ivana has spent time there as an anthropologist, and their friend Gershon is from Papua and worked at the museum of Ethnology in Leiden. Wow!
But the first moments of the evening I get to spend alone with František (Franti for short) and he shows me the thick cookbook his mother gave him. As many male expats, he only learnt how to prepare typical dishes after leaving his country. At home, his sisters helped mom cook and bake...especially on Saturday, "baking day", as traditionally, one is supposed to have enough treats for all the Sunday visitors. František sometimes misses the "open" culture back home, where he could always drop in at a friend's place without calling in advance.
After Ivana and Gershon arrive, we start the meal with some "comfort food", bramborová polévka, a hearty potato soup with forest mushroom and lots of other vegetables. It tastes great, but according to the cook, it will be even better tomorrow, when the flavors will be more intense.
For the next course we head to the kitchen to witness the preparations. I am impressed by Franti's professional chopping of the apples. He learnt the technique in his part-time job at a Mediterranean restaurant in Nijmegen (where he did his MA). The apples go into our sweet main course; žemlovka, a kind of oven baked french toast with fruit and raisins. Just pour an egg and milk mixture over old bread and throw in some chopped apples.
František and Ivana are the first people in my project that can remember life in a communist country (Andi and Ildi from Hungary were too young...), so I am very interested in how that was for them. According to Ivana, it wasn't that bad for kids: the communist government organized a lot of activities and camps for the children. František recalls monthly military excercises in the forest. All the kids would don gasmasks and raincoats to prepare for a (fictional) gas attack. Also plastic bags around the hands, which you were supposed to remove with little twigs to avoid contact with the "contaminated" plastic. Franti mostly remembers this as being silly, but good fun. The boys would also practice shooting, and because František was good enough, he was allowed to handle a Kalashnikov. And he was only thirteen or fourteen at the time!
He says he was afraid of Americans, he mostly pictured them as soldiers. Till one day he went to a concert of an American youth choir! The whole show he kept looking at one of the girls singing, she was so pretty...they exchanged addresses afterwards, but nothing much came of it. But at least his image of Americans as soldiers was changed in this one evening. Ivana also says her first contact with Americans was a group, singing Queen songs at her school. As one of the negative aspects of the communist era, she remembers how difficult it was to buy exotic fruits. Her grandfather waited in line for two hours once, just to buy half a kilo of bananas!
And František mentions how being (openly) Catholic could make life difficult under an atheist regime. During biology class, his teacher would explain about evolution and then teasingly say: "But František doesn't believe that, does he now?"
Also, it would have been difficult to get into university and get a good job as a Catholic. But the Velvet Revolution (1968) came before that could have an impact on Franti. Examples of small changes were Donald Duck on tv on Sunday, and the availability of some new kinds of vegetables in the winter. These were so new, that media campaigns were set up to teach the Czech how to prepare them!
After dinner I linger and check out Franti's laptop. Melancholic Czech music from the computer has accompanied our meal, but now my attention is caught by the slide show with dozens of photos of one very pretty Chinese girl. It turns out to be Franti's girlfriend from Hong Kong, a fellow researcher...he has to be content with photos till July, when she will return to the Netherlands. Who knows if I can arrange a Chinese meal then?

Meal. 14 Nigerian pounded yam with Egwusi soup

2006-03-16T17:50:00.000+01:00

Bede and his Dutch wife, Petra, are the first to invite me for dinner purely on the basis of a newspaper article about the project (see the Volkskrant magazine link in the sidebar).
They are surprised to hear that nobody else has made the same offer....though Petra confides that her colleagues at work were astonished that she was receiving someone in her home that she did not know at all.
I take the train to Amsterdam with Petra, and when we arrive at their flat, the novel fragrances of Nigerian cooking waft from the kitchen. I see a big bag of "pounded yam", cassave flour, on the floor.
Bede tells me a 2.5 kilo bag costs an amazing amount in Holland. In Nigeria it would be supercheap (for European standards). There, pounded yam is what potatoes are for the Dutch...the basis of every meal.
Considering the markup, it is no wonder Bede is planning to set up a shop with Nigerian food products. At last some competition for the only Nigerian shop in Amsterdam, that draws crowds from all over the country.
Over dinner (pounded yam 'balls', two thick sauces to dip the balls in and deep-fried plantain), we discuss the bad image Nigerians seem to have in the West. I listen while I dip the starchy balls in the different sauces, egwusi and agbono, and try to keep my fingers clean.
Bede suggests that part of the problem could stem from non-trustworthy people from Cameroon and Ghana etc. who can easily get a Nigerian passport.
Together we laugh about the stupid (and greedy?) people who react to -mostly Nigerian- bank spam. You must know about those emails about "my father, ex-minister of Defense, left 70 million dollars and I desperately need to transfer it to a European bank account".
Bede emailed back with his phone number as a joke and when some guy called he kept him on the line for a while questioning him on where he was from. Did he know this city and that town?
At last he disclosed he was Nigerian himself and told the man to hang up and not waste his phonecard any longer...
In Nigeria he already knew some Westerners. In his home town, an American missionary often visited his mom's house. And in Abuja (a big town), he would chat with Irish ex-pats in cafes.
They usually worked for the Heineken brewery there that also makes Guinness beer.
After dinner we have tea and I leaf through their photo album. I admire a picture of Petra in Nigerian wedding dress. Also there are some clippings pasted in of Bede's football accomplishments. He first lived in Sweden for a while and shows me action photos of him during football matches in Sweden and Holland. In this sense you could call him a true "international", as he has played for teams in three different countries. But by now (he is 30) he has given up on his dreams of becoming a professional player. New dreams of opening a shop have replaced the older ones...I hope to be at the opening someday soon!

Meal 13. Chilean empanadas and cazuela

2006-03-14T14:25:00.000+01:00

For this meal, I travel a bit further than usual: to the island of Texel. I don't have to worry about logistics; my friend Estela, who grew up in Texel, leads the way. She studies law in Amsterdam, and we met a few years ago at a summercourse on genocide and crimes against humanity. (What I was doing there? What...don' t you think veterinarians should know about genocide?)
Her father, Santiago, has made empanadas for us. Estela's mother, Isabel, actually ran a restaurant for a good number of years, and she has prepared the cazuela (a stew).
But first, we start off with a stiff drink: pisco sour. Santiago makes this drink with pisco, lemon juice, sugar and egg whites. The eggs are the chicken in their own backyard! They give the drink a nice frothy layer.
As we sit down and the empanadas are served, I wonder how to tackle them. Santiago seems to read my mind and says: "With your hands! In Chile, we have a saying: Empanadas, the guitar, and the woman...these are all touched with the hands!"
So I dig in and take a bite. The filling is delicious; a piping hot combination of ground beef, raisins, boiled eggs and black olives. Plus onions and garlic to taste. Try this link if you want to make some yourself.
Over dinner we get to talking about how Santiago and Isabel came to the Netherlands. It was in 1978, and Isabel was just a young girl of 19. They were fleeing a country where Pinochet had been in power for five years, since the military coup against Salvador Allende, the democratically chosen president. They describe the period after the coup as being horrific. There was no access to news, so nobody knew what was going on. No television, only military marches on the radio, no public transport and no gasoline for the cars. People had to walk for hours to find out if their friends and family were okay. And walking around town was dangerous as well, because there was a curfew.
Santiago was being educated as a marine biologist at and one of his teachers just "disappeared". Sometimes the military marches on the radio would stop, and the executions of that day would be broadcast. Thousands of "enemies of the state" were murdered, and Isabel tells me how even boys who only had been a member of the communist youth groups had to fear for their lives. It was a period of fear.
Five years after the coup, it was clear for Santiago that he had to leave, and a possibility opened up for a trip to the Netherlands.
He and Isabel were both young, and it was a time of big uncertainty. But within half a year, through unlikely events, he managed to find an internship as a marine biologist in Texel and they have stayed on the island ever since.
Isabel ran a restaurant on the mainland and describes how people would not know what to do with Chilean soup, the cazuela. This soup consists of broth with big potatoes, carrots, corncobs and chunks of meat in it. Isabel herself prefers to move the big pieces to a separate plate. But Santiago and Estela just eat the pieces first and then ladle up the broth. I go for their technique.
Over dinner we sip Chilean red wine, Casillero del Diablo. Santiago tells me this used to be very expensive wine in Chile, and he is pleased it is quite affordable in the Netherlands.
We talk about how he sees his future. Though he is happy with his job, his friends, and his house, he still wants to move back to Chile someday. Isabel, however, sees her future in the Netherlands. She works at Ecomare, a ecology centre mostly known for protecting seals. She is a Spanish teacher as well, and has been involved in local politics. But why does she feel differently? Estela suggests it could be because a lot of her family has moved to the Netherlands and that gives her a sense of home. Isabel cannot really explain it. She does still feel Chilean. Her first trip back to Chile brought tears to her eyes, thinking of all the struggles her countrymen had been through while she was elsewhere.
Estela feels pretty much Dutch, albeit with "Chilean roots".
Just to check if she has been raised with a bit of Latino flavor, I ask; "What about the chancleta?"
I remembered this online quiz: "You know you're a Latino, if....your Mami would threaten you with her chancleta!"
And indeed, Estela affirms that on occasion Isabel would grab her slipper and wave it about to scare her away. It didn't cause any major traumas though-they are still very close!
The next day, we have empanadas and eggs for breakfast and with Estela I watch a movie, Machuca. It's a touching film about a young boy and how he experiences the military coup. I feel honoured to have spoken to people just the night before who have really lived through this period.

Meal 12. Moroccan Couscous

2006-03-09T17:50:00.000+01:00

Couscous is the first thing that comes to mind when Moroccan cooking is mentioned. That's why Fatiha decided to make it as a "typical Moroccan meal". But it turns out she doesn't even like couscous herself! She makes it three or four times a year, only when there are guests. Her own favorite meal is based on potatoes, so it seems she has adapted well to Dutch society (see Meal 1. Dutch andijviestamppot). We actually met as "integration buddies" about two years ago, a scheme organized by the Utrecht municipality. I was supposed to introduce her to Dutch society, I guess. But usually we just ended up drinking tea and chatting. The six months I had to integrate Fatiha have long since passed, but we still enjoy each other's company.
When I arrive, she tells me she had almost cancelled our date. Why? Some wire had short-circuited and there was no electricity on the ground floor of her house. And the guy who came to fix it was four hours late! So most of the day she had been walking around with candles.
Also, her oven is electric; so there will be no Moroccan cookies to go with the mint tea tonight...
The couscous is prepared the traditional way. This entails steaming it twice, with butter or oil added. In the photo you can see the special couscous pan, behind the pan with pumpkin. The whole dish consists of plenty of couscous, potatoes, pumpkin, carrot, tomato, onions, chickpeas, chicken wings and cilantro to taste.
Adding potatoes is actually not that common in Morocco, but Fatiha's mother did it as well, so we can call this a "traditional" dish...
Above right you can see Fatiha's youngest daughter, Miryam, posing next to the finished platter of couscous. Will she be preparing the same meal in 10 years time? Quite possibly, though at the moment her main concerns are playing with her baby brother and jumping off the couch in creative ways. Fatiha is planning on letting her follow gymnastics classes to focus her energy. This might mean cartwheels and handstands in the living room in the future! Osama, Miryam's 9-year-old brother, has already taken to playing soccer inside. He's a big fan of Ibrahim Afellay, a very succesful Dutch/Moroccan soccer player for PSV. After dinner, there's an interview with this 19-year-old wonder boy on TV. I'm mostly impressed with the amount of gel he manages to put into his curls, but also by how far he has come for a boy his age.
Osama tells me Ibrahim lives right around the corner from his aunt, here in Utrecht. A local role model.
Fatiha's husband, Azzedine, is working late tonight; he's a bus driver. And a good cook as well. A few months ago he made a great meal for us with fried fish, shrimp and mussels. But according to Fatiha, there is one problem with having him be the cook: he doesn't clean up the kitchen afterwards! I have to say; my mother complains about my dad doing exactly the same thing...
After dinner, we have some fruit. Fatiha has bought 3 kilos of oranges, because her youngest son, Adam, really likes the taste of them. But the whole family will be going to Germany in a few days to visit Fatiha's parents, so they won't be able to finish all of it. She gives me some fruit to take home with me; a touching gesture she has made in the past as well. As if she wants to ensure that I will still get enough vitamins living my "student lifestyle"...

Meal 11. Jamaican Rice 'n Peas and Jerk Tilapia

2006-03-03T15:34:00.000+01:00

My sister Rivke and I frequently go to dancehall concerts and are often joined by our half Dutch, half Jamaican friend Azinta. Though she's lived in India, Indonesia, China and Jamaica part of her life, most of her high school years were spent in Heelsum, a village with 4000 inhabitants near Arnhem. And this is where Rivke and I arrive to enjoy a typical Jamaican meal, that Azinta's mother Marcia agreed to make for us. The whole village is blanketed in snow, and Azinta shows us Heelsum's main attractions; two restaurants, a bar, a pharmacy and a church. We sneak into Azinta's house by way of the backyard and meet Marcia for the first time. She is busy preparing pre-dinner snacks and summons Azinta to prepare us a drink. Above you can see her showing off a bottle of Appleton rum, one of Jamaica's favorite drinks, besides Red Stripe and Ting ("The Real Ting!").
The rum goes into the rumpunch, with sorrel and lime. Very refreshing! I had never heard of sorrel before; it's a red fruit that you can turn into syrup or jam.
While we sip our drinks, Marcia shows us all the different kinds of jerk seasoning (at left) she has bought in Jamaica. It's a fiery sauce that you can use to make jerk chicken, or to spice up fish, which it what we're having as a main dish tonight. At the supermarket nearby, they actually sell tilapia from a Jamaican producer. Marcia even knows him. It's a small world...
I ask how people say something is delicious in Jamaica. Marcia thinks for a while, and comes up with "It taste good!". Rivke contributes that a woman she knows well will say: "It allright...", or "It nah too bad," if she is really happy with something she has made.
While Marcia is preparing the tilapia, we enjoy the fried fish and tofu snacks she has made and talk about her plans for moving back to Jamaica. At the moment they are renovating a farm so that Azinta and her sister will also be able to visit when it's done. The only thing she's not really looking forward to is the quality of the roads. The rains this last year have only made them worse.
After the snacks it's time to start the "real meal" with spicy pumpkin soup. The secret ingredients are star anise and spring onions.
And then the main meal arrives. It's a true feast consisting of rice 'n peas (a Jamaican classic), jerk tilapia, salad, spinach, festival ( sweet fried bread) and avocado.
I always wonder how rice 'n peas taste so much better than you would expect of a dish that's just rice and beans. The answer is that most cooks add coconut milk, onions, garlic or other spices like thyme. I'm not sure what Marcia added, but it is really good. It nah too bad!
To arrive at home on time, we should actually have taken the ten to ten bus...but Marcia persuades us to stay a little later. How did she manage to convince us? The magic words "Homemade", "Banana" and "Ice cream".
Served with caramelized slices of pineapple. Mmmm. Too bad we don't have time for some coffee. Jamaica's Blue Mountain coffee is one of the best coffees in the world, and one of the most expensive. The rains mentioned above supposedly ruined much of last year's crops, raising the prices even more. Rivke and I imported some from an organic coffee farmer, Oliver, preferring this Jamaican product to the more stereotypical ganja...

Meal 10. Finnish Makaronilaatikko

2006-03-01T18:25:00.000+01:00

How I arrived at Laura's dinner table is quite funny. We met in Antwerp at a Hospitality Club meeting. Later we had drinks in Leiden (where my parents live), at a nice bar, the WW. But only when we called to set a date for the Finnish dinner, did I find out she lives two houses down from my parents! I have actually played football in the park with the boys Laura is taking care of as an au pair. They are quite a lively bunch and it was impossible to make them sit straight for a photograph, as you can see.
Laura tells me the meal she made, Makaronilaatikko, is a great favorite with children. Basically, it's just macaroni with ground meat, bell pepper, and a thick layer of cheese on top. Laatikko is Finnish for casserole, a.k.a. a dish baked in the oven. I'm surprised to see the boys smother it in ketchup, but according to Laura this is not a problem. Adding ketchup to everything is very Finnish, as well as eating reindeer meat, and drinking lots of milk, even with gourmet food or in restaurants.

After a while the parents, Patricia and Pieter, arrive and have their heated up version of the macaroni. Then they head upstairs to put the kids to bed. Laura and I go downstairs where she has her cosy room. She has her own bathroom as well, but is missing out on one Finnish amenity: the sauna. In Finland every family has their own sauna within the bathroom, and she would usually go three times a week. To slough off dead skin cells and promote circulation, you hit each other with birch twigs. Sounds kind of SM to me, but I guess that's part of the fun.
As I take a better look at Laura's duvet cover, I see it is a Marimekko design. One of the few Finnish companies I know, besides Nokia and...Finlandia vodka.
Laura tells me Marimekko products are going through a revival, especially bags with the Unikko design. When she was an au pair in Brussels, all the other Finnish au pairs (more than twenty), had versions of the bag. Laura herself has one "official" bag, and one her sister made from Marimekko fabric. Plus a bag for toiletries and a pencil case. I ask her to pose with all of them and it makes for a colourful picture.
Marimekko and Laatikko are easy to recognize as Finnish words because they have those double vowels and consonants. Pronouncing words like tuli, tulli and tuuli correctly is quite a challenge for foreigners! They all mean something else; fire, customs and wind respectively...
Another interesting fact is that the current Finnish president, Tarja Halonen, is a Conan O'Brien look-a-like. She was re-elected on January 29, 2006 and O'Brien, whose comedy show is very popular in Finland, even aired a couple of mock Halonen campaign ads. Too bad the picture at left misses colour, it's especially the pale skin and red hair that is supposed to make them look so alike.

Meal 9. Senegalese Thiebou Dieune

2006-02-26T17:07:00.000+01:00

For Senegalese food, I did not need to travel farther than my own building! I often smell delicious aromas wafting from Andrea's kitchen, but I'm never sure if it is her Dutch cooking or Moussa's Senegalese cuisine. I should be able to tell the difference, I guess. Tonight will be my first ever taste of what Moussa calls "the national dish of Senegal", Thiebou Dieune.
I take a peek while he is slaving away in the kitchen, and it looks really good. I spot a yellow pepper in the pan, and ask if it is a Scotch Bonnet. Moussa answers he knows it as a Tyson, named after the fiery boxer! I wonder how they called it before Mike Tyson was well known...

While the rice is cooking, I amuse myself by listening to Elias, Andrea and Moussa's 17 month old son. If there was a "Animal Sound" competition for toddlers, he would surely win first prize! If you say "Pig!", he makes a very authentic snorting sound with his nose, "Cat!" a meow, and "Snake!" a convincing hissing noise. And that's only a small sample of his repertoire...
He is being raised bilingually; Moussa speaks to him in French and Dutch, Andrea only in Dutch.
Besides his mother tongue, Wolof, Moussa also speaks French, English and Dutch. But he avowes Dutch is by far the most difficult. He actually met Andrea as a language student; she was his Dutch teacher. We talk about how many people perceive you as stupid if you do not master their language perfectly. My American father, who is a university lecturer in Leiden, is sometimes still frustrated by this fact. (More on him in a meal to come...!)

Back to cooking: Moussa tells me he could have chosen to make several other typical dishes, but thiebou dieune really is what Senegalese eat almost every day.
Other options would have been Senegalese couscous (very difficult to come by in the Netherlands) or mafé, a peanut butter stew with meat.

Tonight's thiebou dieune seems quite elaborate for a dish that is served every evening. The main ingredient is rice, with fish, tiny meatballs, okra, aubergine, pumpkin, carrot and cassava. Andrea pictures the Senegalese women spending hours every day just preparing the evening meal. Traditionally, men are not supposed to cook in Senegal. Moussa laughingly explains that his mother would hardly let him into the kitchen. He only learned to prepare the Senegalese dishes in the Netherlands, aided by his memories of how had seen it being done back home. He explains how fish is the most common source of protein, though beef and chicken are popular as well. Pork is not common, as the overwhelming majority of Senegalese adheres to islamic beliefs. But the small Christian minority does keep pigs, and that isn't a problem. In Senegal, the different religions live together in peace. Muslims will celebrate Christmas, and Christians will also participate in Muslim holidays, Moussa tells me. You can read an interesting article about this tolerance here.

Our meal is accompanied by the sounds of Senegalese musicians. Elias is waving his arms to the music in his high chair. Youssou N'Dour is the most famous, but Baaba Maal and many others have managed to reach wide audiences outside the borders of Senegal.
I have to admit, I don't know that much about Senegal, except that they have a good football team and most of the players seem to be called Diop, Diof or Dioup. (I just checked, and of the 20 players in the current team, there are just two Dioups and one Diop...) Senegal's president between 1981 and 2000 was Abdou Diouf. I haven't been able to find out what this name means and why it is so common.

After dinner, Elias is put to bed, we head to the couch and Andrea brings out some vanilla ice cream with home-made elderberry syrup made by her mother. Not something you would find quickly in Senegal! Though Moussa tells us you can find a lot of Dutch powdered milk in Senegalese shops. Our cows are sometimes more international than we are...

Meal 8. Hungarian Borsóleves and Túrós csusza

2006-02-25T23:33:00.000+01:00

Ildi is the first person I have actually met who has had her eyes lasered. She jokes with her high-school friend Andrea about walking around with sunglasses for half a year afterwards and getting strange looks at night. They tell me Hungary is the up-and-coming destination for laser and dental "tourism", because of the quick service and cheap prices.
Andrea (in black) and Ildi are both language students from Budapest. Andrea studies Dutch and English and is improving her Dutch by staying in the Netherlands for 8 months. She works as a teacher's assistant at a school for security agents.
Ildi is visiting, she studies Japanese and English, but has not been to Japan yet...now Hungary is part of the European Union, there might be more possibilities for exchange programs. Andrea is obviously very fond of Ildi, but jokes she just likes having her around so she can wear her hair in two ponytails; Ildi makes the perfectly straight part in the back!
Some of the ingredients for tonight's meal were especially brought over from Budapest. A bag of pasta named fodros nagykocka after 'ruffles' because of their shape, carrots, 'white carrots' and some real Hungarian paprika powder, supposedly the essential ingredient in traditional soups and stews.

And last but not least: a candy bar with chocolate and cottage cheese called Túró Rudi. According to Andrea this will be all the rage in Europe within a year, and when I google the name of this delicatessen I find out she has a point! I didn't know people could be so fanatic about a bar of chocolate.

Ildi's dish, the túrós csusza (at left), is really simple to make: just the frilly pasta with a sauce of drained cottage cheese and salty bacon bits. And a dollop of sour cream on top. A kind of "pasta carbonara", I guess.
I'm missing some veggies though. But Andrea's pea soup, borsóleves (at right), with fried chicken wings, carrots and 'white carrots' (the official word is parsnip) takes care of that.
The soup is Andi's mix of traditional pea soup with the basis of most Hungarian stews: onions fried in oil till they disintegrate, plus paprika powder. The powder gives the soup it's distinctive taste and red colour.

What else is typically Hungarian, I ask. "Poppy seeds!", answers Ildi. "We mostly used them in cakes. Officially you're not allowed to grow poppies in your garden, because the green seed pod contains the ingredients for opium. But they still grow everywhere. When my grandmother was small, she once ate some green poppies from a field."
"What happened?", I ask.
"She slept for three days straight! The doctor came and told her parents:"Just let her sleep...", and afterwards she was okay."

"Wow!" I exclaim, "and I thought Holland was special, with marihuana plants growing in gardens and on balconies..."
Then Andrea tells me about an old lady who made the news in Hungary because of her marihuana plants. She planted them between her cabbages, supposedly to keep the worms away. The police had to force her to remove the plants. But the next year, she did it again. And made the news again. According to Andrea and Ildi, this was just a smart way of making publicity. You have to let people know you are selling wormless cabbages somehow...

Ildi has been to the States to visit family. She has two uncles living there who both fled their country in 1956 because of the anti-Soviet Hungarian Revolt. They're in their seventies now and even speak Hungarian with an American accent after all these years. The story goes that the oldest brother crossed the border by hanging onto the underside of a train for a couple of kilometers!
It reminds me of how my own great-grandmother is supposed to have escaped from the Ukraine hidden in a haywagon. Crossing borders makes for interesting stories...but maybe time passing makes them even more interesting!

Meal 7. Turkish Turkey, Dolmas and Aşure

2006-02-22T00:32:00.000+01:00

My hosts tonight are Kadria, who came to the Netherland 42 years ago, and Fatma, her daughter, who was born here. They are both ex-colleagues of mine, and Fatma is still a colleague of my oldest sister, Anna. They actually already made a wonderful meal for us once, in 2002...so this blog is a good excuse for a repeat.
We start by joining Kadria in the kitchen, where she explains how to make rice the Turkish way. First you soak it in water for a few hours, then fry it in lots of oil and then boil it.
The method for making ayran, our drink, is a bit simpler. It's just yoghurt, water and salt to taste. Served chilled, it is very refreshing and pretty much similar to Indian lassi.

Dinner starts off with a white bean stew. As it turns out, the white beans have been brought over from Turkey, as have the olives, the laurel leaves and the wine leaves for the dolmas later on. Quite impressive. Kadria tells me many people bring back so much stuff from Turkey, they actually choose their airline according to how much baggage weight they allow!

Fatma brings out the dolmas with a special smile on her face. This is a real treat that takes quite a lot of work to prepare. The slightly bitter wine leaves are filled with sweet rice, raisins and pine nuts. Yum.

Kadria reminisces about her youth. We laugh about her stories while enjoying the delicious food. It is great to still have contact with her after all these years. Kadria has known me since I was thirteen and we always had fun drinking coffee together at work. I also remember presents of olives and a Turkish peasant blouse. The olives really came from her family owned olive orchard. Tonight's olives as well. I always find it amazing how people ever invented the way to prepare the raw olives. When you eat them fresh from the tree they are truly disgusting. You have to soak them in salt water for weeks to make them palatable.

The turkey, served with rice and sweet corn, is the third course. It is very tender, and even looks appetizing in the picture, don't you think? (I realized that taking the photos at an angle instead of straight from above helps...)
Though turkey was named after the country, the bird originally is from Mexico. In Turkish it is called hindi, because they thought it came from India! A bit confusing, huh? If you're interested in the linguistic details, click here.

The turkey is so good I even ask for an extra portion. By now, I am really stuffed. But there is more to come...puff pastry triangles, börek, filled with spinach. My stomach streches a little more and we head to the coach to recover. Fatma, who is very slender, shows me her belly. I put my hand on it and seriously, she seems to be three months pregnant! She swears that this is always the case after dinner, but that a short walk and a cigarette will make it disappear.

After flipping through some of the 42 Turkish channels Kadria receives through her satellite dish, that is exactly what we do. We head out into the cold and take a short walk through the neighbourhood. Chilled to the bone, we rush back in after ten minutes to a blissfully warm apartment. Time for our fifth course, a special dessert called aşure. Fatma shows me a Dutch cookbook with the recipe. Supposedly Noah made this dessert with all the ingredients he had left after landing on Mount Ararat. For those as ignorant as me; Ararat is were Noah landed after the Flood and it is the highest mountain in Turkey.
This dessert has a certain set of rules; it should be served in the month after February 9 and it has to consist of at least 7 ingredients. What's more, it should be served to at least 7 people. So Kadria will bring some to her friends the next day to comply with this rule.

To warm up even more, we end the evening with a cup of Senseo coffee, a Dutch touch after a thoroughly Turkish meal.

Dutch clogs with the Turkish protection against the evil eye on Kadria's tv

Meal 6. Sudanese Molokhia and Mahashi

2006-02-07T15:00:00.000+01:00

Tonight the first African meal on this blog! Nejla is a scientist at the biomedical lab where I'm an intern at the moment. She has given me simple tips that make a big difference. For instance, she advised me to use post-its to rubricize my enormous stack of articles. Now I can quickly find the one I'm looking for.

When I arrive at her home in Wageningen, a bit early, Nejla is still video-chatting with her sister, who lives in the United States, but she welcomes me warmly and quickly signs off.
She tells me the other friend she invited, a girl from Kenya, has cancelled. One thing Nejla certainly appreciates about the Dutch is that they stick to their appointments. Once they say they will do something, they do it. I know the Dutch, or maybe "Northern Europeans" in general, have trouble adapting in other countries where people will say yes to something and then not show up. On the other hand, a Spanish guy I know complains about how in the Netherlands, everything is planned a month in advance and no space is left for spontaneous get togethers.

About the meal, Nejla tells me that she actually hardly ever makes Sudanese food. Partly because it takes hours to make, and partly because she likes it so much, she can't stop eating it once she starts!

The menu for tonight is a Molokhia (a spinach like vegetable) with lamb meat, Mahashi (a tomato stuffed with beef and rice), rice, flat bread and a fresh green salad. The molokhia really reminds of a dish I've eaten before, but I don't know where. It's as if I see an actor on tv and recognize him, but don't remember from which movie. Frustrating! But Nejla tells me the dish is not only common in Sudan, but in Egypt as well. So probably I had some while visiting friends in Cairo last year.

I start out eating with a spoon, but Nejla is interested in how I eat with my hands. Of course, immediately I make the mistake of touching the food with my left hand. This is a big no-no. Mostly because your left hand is used for "toilet purposes", but according to some, because using the right hand is obligatory in Islam.
Also, your fingers should not really go in your mouth, this is not polite.
In the end, I spoon the food into pieces of bread and pop those in my mouth. The salad I eat with a fork though.

After the meal, we listen to Bob Marley on her computer and debate how he died exactly. I thought stomach cancer, Nejla thought lung cancer (from smoking too much?). So I look it up, and it turns out it was skin cancer that spread to his lungs and stomach.

Over dessert (a delicious crème caramel) we talk about double standards for men and women in the Netherlands and in Sudan. As an example, I say: "Take a girl in high school who kisses another boy each week in the disco. This girl will be seen as a bit of a slut. But if it's a boy that kisses a different girl each week, he is seen as a stud!"
Nejla asks me:"But who will talk about her? Mostly her friends? Or the whole community?"
I answer: "Mostly just her friends and the people at school."

During the evening we talk about lots of different things, among others, that Nejla is devout and serious about her faith. However, she does believe that her faith is between her and the Almighty, and that other people do not have the right to judge her in this respect and tell her what to do. She does not tell other Muslims how they should practice their faith either. This is something personal.

Interesting...as we part, we are still in the middle of a discussion! About how many Northern Sudanese highly value their light skin and soft hair and feel Arabic, not African. Nejla admits that Arabic is her mother tongue, but still she feels more African. In general, she feels that people should not put so much weight on skin color and that no one should be judged by their ethnicity.

We go to into the elevator together, because Nejla is bringing the leftover crème caramel to a friend of hers on the tenth floor. By accident, she presses number 13, because her best friend lived on that floor before moving back to Sudan. Nejla still misses her a lot.
So, on the tenth floor, we kiss goodbye and I promise to invite her over to my place soon for a Dutch meal!

Meal 5. Italian pasta: Farfalle alle gamberi e zucchine

2006-02-04T21:52:00.000+01:00

It has taken a few cancellations before I really find myself at Alessandro's place. He's a young piano tuner from Conegliano, a small town located about 50 km from Venice. Just by looking at him, you wouldn't immediately know he was Italian...his hair and skin are pretty light and his eyes are grey. As a child, people would call him "the little German boy" because of his white blond hair.

When I arrive at his place at around 6:30, he is still undecided about what to make. His all-time favorite recipe is pasta with dried horse meat and radicchio di treviso, but those ingredients aren't readily available in the Netherlands. He could make polenta or gnocchi, but both recipes take more than an hour to prepare, and after discussing all the options and googling radicchio, I'm kind of hungry. So we agree on pasta with shrimp and zucchini (a.k.a. courgette/eggplant) sauce.

Off to the supermarket to buy the ingredients and some wine, Italian of course. Actually Conegliano hosts the oldest wine school of Italy, and maybe of Europe, I'm not sure. These kind of facts you only know if you are from the city itself. I always thought everybody knew Leiden was the oldest university in the Netherlands, but no...and what about Utrecht having the highest church tower?

While Alessandro is cooking, he tells me a bit about food in Italy. He lived with his mother till he was 26, he then moved to the Netherlands. This is actually a common situation there; you live with your parents till you marry or move to another city. Though Alessandro would sometimes cook for himself, he preferred having his mother cook for him. As by miracle, his mobile phone rings while we are talking about this and who can it be, but La Mamma.
They shortly discuss the weather in Utrecht and in Conegliano, his buying a new car and his work. Then he has to ring off, because else the farfalle will no longer be al dente! Pasta that is too soft is a cardinal sin in Italian cooking. Alessandro also begs me never to commit another sin, which is to add cheese to a sauce with seafood in it. He once saw a British cook do this on tv, and still horrors at the thought.

Then we sit down with our plates on our laps and enjoy the slightly spicy pasta dish. The sauce contains shrimp, zucchini, onions, garlic, white wine, lots of parsley and one dried chili pepper. The two garlic cloves are only crushed, not chopped, and removed before serving the meal. Thus only a subtle garlic aroma is added to the flavor of the sauce.
After dinner, we have some Viennetta, an ice cream product actually developed by a Brit...but who cares, it tastes fine. During our meal, Alessandro's housemate walks in, Elvir, an artist originally from Bosnia. I start telling him about my 80 meals project and he is very enthusiastic; it seems like I have a new nationality willing to participate!

Somehow it is already midnight when they decide to watch a DVD with their beamer. My chair is so comfortable and my eyelids so heavy, I don't manage to stay awake once the movie has started. One and a half hours later I wake up suddenly and see the final scenes of the movie, Caligula. Lots of blood and gore, and I'm happy I slept through most of it. Checking out the description on the box confirms this. It seems to be some kind of bloody, soft porn cult film about the crazy Roman emperor, made by Italian director Tinto Brass.
My camera was still lying on the table after dinner, so sneaky bastard Elvir made a flattering portrait of me snoring away(at left). Kind of scary, huh?

Meal 4. French Blanquette de veau

2006-01-31T15:00:00.000+01:00

I've had quite a few dinners with Florence and her boyfriend Seb before, but these meals were usually Italian or Chinese...so tonight the French meal she is making is by special request. Somehow she (mistakenly) got the idea that this "trip around the world" is a competition, and she has taken pains to show that the French cuisine is indeed the best in the world!

We start off with delicious sausage with thyme and pepper, personally imported from Paris by Florence. She is a real Parisienne, but has lived in Germany for two years before moving to the Netherlands. Her knowledge of German helped her learn Dutch quickly, and many people are confused by her accent. They usually guess Belgian, and not French or German.
The saucisson is accompanied by red wine, which Seb cannot drink, because he is recovering from dengue fever. He contracted it in Sri Lanka, studying the language of the Malay who live there. So...being a linguist can be a dangerous profession. Florence studied law and never thought she would be working in the "language" field, but now she is a legal translator at the French Embassy in the Hague. She can't tell us that much about her new job, because the information is classified. Top secret...though one thing she can disclose is that she has a two hour long lunch break! In the Netherlands, half an hour is normal and one hour is quite long. But two hours--this is very French.

The sausage is followed by little goat cheeses on toast from the oven. I ask: "With honey?", because this is a combination I know and like, but it turns out it is not that popular in France. Somehow goat cheese with honey has become an inseparable entity in Dutch cafés and restaurants. When you order a salad or a sandwich with goat cheese, there's about 90% chance the dish will include honey. (Another fact: 87% of statistics are invented on the spot...)

Anyway, after we remove the small pieces of toast that are burnt, this first course is very good...the chèvre, called Crottin du Berry, has a delicate taste that I haven't come across before.

Now for the main course. This is a dish Florence's mother also used to make, called Blanquette de veau. Don't you agree almost everything sounds better in French? For example, Saumon au crème fraîche sounds nicer than Salmon with sour cream, right? I don't even know if this is an existing recipe...but blanquette de veau definitely is. Though it is usually made from calf's shoulder, Florence is making it with calf's leg. Front or back leg, we don't know, and even I, as a veterinarian, can't tell the difference between a tibia or a radius when the pieces are this small.
The stewed meat is accompanied by carrots with leak, rice, little mushrooms and a lot of white sauce (sauce blanche). I hardly know anyone my own age who makes sauces without the help of a store bought sauce mix. My student friends see it as a miracle that I make my own soup from scratch. "You mean you really made that pumpkin soup yourself? From pumpkins?"

But even I, the miracle soup maker, have never made my own sauce from butter and flour, the way it's supposed to be done.

Then it is time for the cheese platter (plateau de fromage). Florence tells me her family always has cheese after dinner, and that the platter will contain a minimum of four kinds of cheese. These might be the same four cheeses for a while, but still-I am impressed!

To top off this magnificent meal, we have a light dessert: a refreshing and surprisingly good combination of thinly sliced red onion and juicy pieces of orange. That makes five courses! Seb asks me if I have weighed myself, so I can see the difference before I started the 80 meals and when I'm done.
Hmmm, no-but I guess I'll notice when my jeans don't fit anymore!

Meal 3. Indonesian feast, Sumatran style

2006-01-29T13:07:00.000+01:00

Tonight my gracious hosts are Heri (officially Nopatakari) from Sumatra (Indonesia) and Ferry, from the Netherlands. They already get a lot of jokes about their rhyming names, so I'm happy they didn't name their son Perry or Jerry, but Gilles (at right). Even though he is in the middel of his "NO" phase, he is still as charming as ever, especially when hugging my leg. It turns out he also does this with strange ladies in the supermarket, exclaiming "Grandma!" and looking up at them with his big eyes.
I especially enjoy dancing around the coffeetable with him, boogying to some Funkadelic grooves. Make my funk the P-Funk!

When I arrive, Heri is busy in the kitchen preparing the rice, and the table is already partly set with a big platter of vegetables. Wow! I'm afraid Heri spent a lot of time preparing this dinner, and this is confirmed when we sit at the table and I see everything she has made. Fried chicken, chicken frikadel (fried minced meatball), rendang (a beef dish with coconut that takes 5 hours to make!), salmon fish heads, homemade sambal and peanut sauce, white rice and the platter with seven different vegetables.
According to Heri, the head of the fish (at right) is truly a delicacy in Indonesia, and more expensive than the rest of the fish. I must say, the salmon heads don't really look appetizing to me, but the morsels I try are delicious. As is everything else being served. I eat so much I have to unbutton my jeans at the end of the meal!

We discuss how food culture is different in the Netherlands...here, if there is a meeting, you will usually get coffee or tea and if you're lucky some cookies. In Indonesia, it is almost impossible to imagine any kind of meeting without food.
Most Indonesians will eat three meals with rice a day; breakfast, lunch and dinner. As a snack, a popular treat is kue (pronounce kway), a sweet treat often made of tapioca flour.
Currently, most kue you buy at the market is bright pink or green with artificial colorings, but they used to be colored brown by gula merah (palm sugar) or light green by pandang leaves.

After dinner we put Gilles to bed and move to the couch to relax. Once I am able to button my jeans again Heri brings out the kue she has made with palm sugar and coconut, and Ferry makes cappuccino to accompany it.

Over coffee and kue, we somehow end up talking about how difficult it is to poop if you are in Antarctica; it is so cold there the turd freezes before you are finished. Then Heri tells a funny story:

Heri's sister is in the living room eating something especially delicious one day. Her brother walks in and starts: "Hey Sis! I just went to the toilet and you wouldn't believe it! My poo was this weird green color and really runny with these little hard pieces--"
She interrupts him:"Oh, stop it! That's disgusting! Now I've lost my appetite because of your gross story..."
And he walks away happily with the treat...

Smart brother, huh? Maybe I should try this some day. I have a large enough supply of disgusting stories...

At around eleven we say goodbye and again I notice how I have to bend down to kiss Heri and look up to kiss Ferry...he is so much taller. Heri says in the beginning he seemed like a lamppost to her-but luckily, a soft lamppost!

Heri, Gilles and Ferry

Meal 2. Nepalese chicken curry

2006-01-21T19:07:00.000+01:00

My second meal is a bit more exotic than Dutch stamppot: Nepalese chicken curry! My friend and colleague, Shusil (at right), actually already had invited me over for dinner before I had the plan for the "80 Meals" project.

When I arrive, only Shusil is there, but just a short while later the lovely Rima arrives, together with her husband, Saroj. They all went to vetschool in Nepal and now Shusil and Rima are doing a MSc at the Veterinary Faculty here in Utrecht.

According to Rima, it is pretty unique to see men at work in the kitchen …in Nepal it is usually the women who do all the cooking. But Rima is lucky; her husband Saroj (at left) enjoys preparing dinner. And Shusil is a good cook too. He learned most of what he knows from his mother.

On the menu tonight is chicken curry (murga) which is not too spicy, adapted to my western tongue. The sauce contains a lot of garlic and ginger. To accompany the deliciously tender chicken, white rice (bhat) is served and fried matchstick potatoes (bhujia). So there is at least one similarity between Dutch and Nepalese cooking: the potato.
The rice is covered with a thin sauce of lentils (dal). Shusil tells me that Nepalese and Indian cooking is quite similar, and indeed, I do seem to remember some of these foreign words from Indian menus in the past.

The meal consisting of chicken curry, rice, lentil sauce and fried potatoes

Rima explains to me:"In Nepal we don’t eat beef, because we are Hindu. For us the cow is a holy animal. We do drink the milk though, and we can eat goatmeat, fish or chicken. Pigs however, are seen as dirty animals, so we don’t eat pork either."
I remark:"So you don’t eat holy animals, or dirty animals,…but only the animals in between!"
She smilingly agrees…

It is interesting how different cultures see pork as being unclean. Both Muslims and Jews will not eat pork, and now it turns out they feel the same way in Nepal!

After dinner, Shusil and Saroj enjoy a beer (Heineken…not very Nepalese) while Rima and I have coffee. Rima tells me how in her culture they only drink tiny sips of strong alcohol, for good luck. For Saroj though, who is from a different caste with different customs, these small quantities take getting used to! I tease him: "So you are convinced that drinking more will bring more good luck as well?"

All in all, this was a great evening with lovely food and lovely people. So much so that Saroj has almost convinced me that I should work in Nepal as a vet after I graduate. I am considering it!

Meal 1. Dutch andijviestamppot

2006-01-20T18:13:00.000+01:00

Yesterday the trip around the world started...in the Netherlands. My own mother, Lexa, made a typical Dutch meal for me: andijviestamppot. Most traditional Dutch meals are built around potatoes, and andijviestamppot is no exception. It basically consists of mashed potatoes and strips of andijvie (a green leafy vegetable called either endive or chicory in English). The classic version has spekjes too, fried bacon bits, but vegetarians can add pieces of cheese instead.

I see my mother as a good cook with ample knowledge of traditional Dutch cuisine. As it turns out, she really only learnt how to cook as a student.
About the stamppot Lexa says: "This is a meal I used to eat at home as well. Cooking a Dutch meal would always start with peeling potatoes! The Dutch kitchen really is, or was, based on potatoes. Some people think that's boring, but actually you can prepare them in many different ways...for example, we never were afraid of peeling and preparing too many potatoes. Any boiled potatoes we had left over would be fried the next day and be delicious and crisp. For good fried potatoes you actually have to boil them the day before!"
I ask if the fact that her parents came from a colonial family (Indonesia) made any difference to what they ate at home once they moved to the Netherlands after the Second World War.
"Well, during the week we would almost always eat a meal based on potatoes. In the winter, the big potatoes that are nice and crumbly and in the spring krieltjes would be a special treat, lovely potatoes that are small and firm. But during the weekend we would often eat Indonesian meals, like nasi or bami."
These are typical Indonesion meals based on rice and noodles that are now very popular in the Netherlands. Every Dutch person thinks of rice if you say nasi.
"One aspect of coming from a colonial family was that certain words were never said in Dutch. So banana would be pisang, coconut kelapa and cucumber ketimun. We really never used the Dutch word for banana and I still find it weird to use the Dutch word for coconut!"
Didn't the Dutch miss potatoes in Indonesia? It turns out that if they really wanted to eat potatoes, they had to settle for the canned version...maybe that's why they all developed a taste for rice and noodles in the end.

What about other Dutch meals?
Lexa: "Besides meals based on potatoes we would also eat beans, or pea soup. With stamppot the meat usually consisted of spekjes (bacon bits) or sausage. Chicken really was something special in those days, we would only have that in the weekend. Fish on Friday was traditional...even if you weren't Catholic, there would be good deals at the fishmongers on Friday, so everybody ate fish that day!"

Introduction

2006-01-19T01:47:00.000+01:00

I just had the idea for this blog about a week ago, and every time I thought about it, I became more excited...the grand "opening" will be tomorrow! Of course, every journey starts at home, so I asked my Dutch mother to make a typical Dutch meal for this occasion.

Friday I will be having my first Nepalese meal at a friend's home. This will be a bit more of a novelty for me than the Dutch meal...I have no idea what Nepalese food is like! Maybe a bit like Indian food?

After each meal, I'll try to post as quickly as possible about how it was and add photos of my hosts and the food itself. Maybe recipes as well, if the meal seems to be something people can reproduce. But the idea behind the blog is really to make a "cultural trip" around the world here in the Netherlands. The meals are just the way I choose to make this trip...the means of transportation, so to say, and not the destination.

If you live in the Netherlands and would like to cook a meal for me that you enjoy making and eating yourself and that is typical for your culture, please post a comment with your contact details or email me eightymeals@yahoo.com