That's So Racist! Isn't It?

David Sedaris has a new article out in the Guardian; naturally, someone is offended.

In his article, Sedaris recounts a recent trip to China, a trip he admits he did not look forward to as China, and all its wonders, never held much appeal for him. This applies especially to the food, which even Americanized Chinese restaurants barely managed to raise above the level of disgust. Fair enough - it is only necessary to love, or love experimenting with, a cuisine if you are a chef and/or food writer. David Sedaris is neither, yet Jeff Yang over at originalspin takes particular offense at the article's criticisms. How dare Sedaris criticize authentic Chinese cuisine when American Southerners (Sedaris is from North Carolina) eat things like muskrat and chitlins (emphasis from original)? And sure, there may be a saying that "Chinese will eat anything with its back to the sky", but these are Chinese sayings. It is unnecessary and venomous for a Westerner to come over and point out the obvious.

Which makes me wonder if Jeff actually read Sedaris' article. Yes, he was grossed out by much of the food merely because it was different, but at the same time questioned why he reacted the way he did. For instance, when offered a soup made of rooster intestines it was not the intestines that put him off but rather the addition of the cock's comb. Why, he asked himself, am I comfortable eating "the thing that filters out toxins but not the thing that sits on top of the head, doing nothing?" Sedaris also notes his boyfriend, Hugh, and his visceral objection to eating seahorses in China because "they are friendly and never did anyone any harm," as opposed to the vicious and ornery lamb they regularly eat back home. From here Sedaris also delves lightly in to the meat choices of Americans (and the English, I suppose), noting the preference for grazing herbivores such as cattle and sheep, yet drawing the line at horse which is eaten in some parts of Europe and, apparently, is delicious.  I admit there is little depth given to these musings on the arbitrary nature of cuisine. However, I also recognize that I am reading an article for a paper and not an essay in a book.

Catching Up

Well, not really, but just letting you know that I am still around, just have not been feeling too motivated to right on current events. It happens. Plus, I realized that it has been several weeks wince I've posted a Saturday Special. Bah! However, I have been keeping busy with my other blog. That's right! I have begun posting on Cooking the Globe! Only four so far, but it's barely over a week old so give it time. Plus, don't go clicking on anything other than the post archives because it is still a work in progress. Yes, one I should easily get finished since I don't have a job to tie me down, but Seth is off until Friday, so I am otherwise engaged. The next few recipes planned are all Indian, but fear not: there will be plenty of good ol' Middle Eastern cookin' coming your way.  I'll even give you a hint: camel. Yes, camel. I am so fucking excited about that one. I think I will tell our dinner guests that's it's lamb and see if they can tell the difference.  Ahahahahaha! Camel.

Fat Chance

 I try to get my news from reliable sources such as Al Jazeera, New York Times and Slate, but as my husband has a yahoo email account, I find myself drawn to the headlines on Yahoo's homepage.  Today there was this gem: "Many Americans Don't Even Know They're Fat."  According to the article, over 2,400 responded to a survey online in which they provided their height and weight, from which their BMI was calculated.  The respondents were then asked where they fit on the scale and 30% who thought they were normal were actually overweight, while 70% who thought they were overweight were actually obese!

The article then provides several more percentages on how Americans grossly underestimate their weight, but what it fails to provide is additional information on the people surveyed or even provide information on the inaccuracy of BMI readings.  If a woman were 5'4" and 145lbs, then her BMI be 24.9, right on the edge of being "overweight", yet still safely "normal".  If that same woman were to gain just a pound more, up to 146lbs, than her BMI would be 25.1 and she would be overweight. Isn't is possible that she would still consider herself "normal"?  How many of the respondents straddled this fine line?  While I am sure there people who are comfortable enough with their body that they would describe themselves as "normal" even if they were five or ten pounds "overweight", or others who are thirty pounds overweight and technically obese, but don't see themselves in that way, that's a long cry from claiming Americans "don't know they're fat."  I somehow doubt the majority of people surveyed were 5'3", 230lbs and yet shocked they couldn't fit into a pair of size 6 jeans (as so many of the comments seem to suggest.)

I am shouldn't be shocked that Yahoo is using BMI calculations to push a sensationalist article, but I am surprised that people could read this without skepticism. BMI calculations don't measure "fatness" or health!  For instance, Jay Cutler, 2009 Mr. Olympia winner, is 5'10" and has a contest weight of 260lbs, with less than 4% body fat, yet his BMI is 37.3 - obese.  Kai Greene (pictured above), 2009 Arnold Classic winner, is 5'8" with a contest weight of 250lbs, less than 4% body fat, yet a BMI of 38 - again, obese.  Conversely, you can find "skinny" people who have body fat percentages of over 30% simply because they don't work out: skinny fat.  One of the comments is from a "European" who advises that as long you watch your intake, you don't even have to exercise!  That's right: as long as you don't eat much, you don't have to get all sweaty and gross, yet can still remain thin and . . . healthy?  Of course, Cutler and Greene are far from fat but that is the main contention with BMI calculations: they don't take into account muscle mass or an actual level of fitness. Just like Yahoo's article didn't take into account valid statistics or reporting.

Image courtesy kailgreene.com

Decision Made

I have decided: I will have two blogs, this one and the new Cooking the Globe (a theme!)  I know last year I wrote that there was no reason for me to do a cooking blog, despite toying with the idea ("Who gives a fuck what I eat?"  Apparently, I expect you to.), but this year it seems plausible for a couple of reasons: one, I am doing a ton of cooking, much of it from my Indian and Middle Eastern cookbooks and I find the internet is less than helpful with those topics - especially Middle Eastern cuisine. Yes, it is fairly easy to find recipes for hummus, couscous, lamb tangine and falafel, but almost impossible to find help with samak mishwi or sanouma (though both are delicious!  Yes, they will be among my first entries.)  So why not take people with me on my journey through the food of this hemisphere?

The other reason is that I want to have a niche for this blog.  Is it a personal journal?  A spot to visit for an opinion on current world events?  A news filter?  I want it to be the latter two.  I need to practice my writing - my serious writing - as much as I need to practice writing in general so that when I look for relevant work I won't be a floundering fool.  Plus, the more serious commentary I have in my arsenal, the more I have to show when trying to find a gig as a freelance writer.  I can use the cooking blog as my personal journal and this one for my personal opinion.  Ha!  How self-indulging.  Of course, this also means I am giving myself twice the work, but I determined to do this.  When you don't work you have to find ways to make yourself organized; I give myself a schedule and deadlines so at least I have a reason to procrastinate.

I also plan on giving this site a facelift, but no promises on when that will happen.  Hopefully soon, but that's all I'm sayin'.

Bye-Bye, Bread

I have been on a bread-baking kick since returning to the Bread Basket of Civilization. Though my first attempt was a tooth-breaking disaster (not to fault Solveigh's instruction of "knead for a bit"; how could she know how literally I would take that?) I have greatly improved thanks to some simple and helpful tips. A simple carrot and rosemary loaf; huge Wheat Thin impersonations (delicious impersonations); challah - amazing, soft and golden challah!; whole wheat Italian bread. Given that all I have to do is place my dough outside the apartment door and the heat will activate the yeast to overflowing in 30 minutes, it's been a fun and (fairly) simple task.


My biga (for the Italian bread above) looked like chocolate chip cookie dough(!), thanks to the addition of granary flour. Making bread is (relatively) simple and fabulous.


But eating so much of it - especially with the whole wheat substitutions I make - has caused me to question whether or not I have a slight gluten allergy (judging by the all night bathroom raids, occasional vomiting and increased levels of exhaustion, anyway.) I haven't had health insurance for two years (guess which side of the health-care debate I'm on!), but am not in the States to utilize that resource even if it was available, and can't really be bothered to find out about testing in Kuwait, so will settle with the good ol' scientific process of elimination. No bread, pasta, pizza, etc, for the next few weeks. Maybe my digestive tract will calm down, but if not, at least it should help me slim down for Cyprus.

"Gluten-free and slim as can be!"

I love bread. 8^(

P.S. - I also love Smitten Kitchen!

Oh, Uganda (5)

Cheap food.

Yes, I have been out of the country for over a week now, but I can still post the things I will miss. Like these crayfish.

A fisherman came to The Heart selling 100 for 1,500ugx; I bought 200. 200 crayfish for 3,000ugx - that's not even a $1.50. Sweet, delicious, fresh crayfish, buck and a half, right at your doorstep. Not to mention the most amazing pineapples (25 cents); tart passion fruits (1kilo = $1); mangos and guavas straight from the tree - and jackfruits, too! What's not to love?

Oh, Uganda (4)

Oh, Francis' Joint, how I will miss your chips/liver! Seriously, when I was in Kuwait over the Christmas holidays I found myself craving the muchomo from this place, so I can imagine how bad it will be for the first couple of months after leaving.

Francis' Joint: the best chips in Kabale. I could eat here for several days in a row (and have.) Unfortunately this means Francis' Joint is also partially to blame for the few pounds I've put on since September, but that's what happens when you're eating french fries all the time.

But it's not just that the food is delicious - it's also cheap. 2,000 shillings for chips/liver, chips/beef or chips/egg - not even a dollar. Add to the fact that a cold (or somehow cold) Eagle is only 1,400ugx and you'll easily understand how this is the perfect meal.

However, as I tend to eat lunch here, the beer has the unfortunate side-effect of putting me to sleep for several hours. Therefore, in addition to weight gain, I also lay partial blame of my recent workplace inefficiency on this joint.

Luckily, the beer is cheap enough that I can just drink another and forget about work completely. Pretty damn efficient, actually.

Digression

I'm not even an egg person.

Yes, yes, I will getting back to that whole war crimes topic I raised last post, but seriously (or, I suppose, somewhat less so) how sad is it that, a week before traveling to Kuwait, I spend almost two hours downloading recipes to cook while there?

Caramelized shallots: who wouldn't want to cook this?

I fully agree and empathize with Foxy by Nature's thoughts about being married while feminist, but at the same time I can't help but feel, I don't even know, ashamed? No, embarrassed, by my overwhelming desire to fatten up my husband with delicious meals.

I bet you want to get fat with this, too.

No, no, that's inaccurate: it is my desire to express my love and devotion through tantalizing and amazing meals. Because I don't make any money. And that's where the embarrassment comes, or uneasiness, even: that I feel the only way to properly or fully express my love is through cooking. Am I simply unimaginative? How many other non-financially contributing partners try to ease their guilt with similar excesses? I don't mean stay-at-home moms - their contributions are evident - but rather, housewives or, I suppose, people like me: working (volunteering) elsewhere for little more than living costs.

Yes, yes, I also love cooking and the availability of both ingredients and cooking options in Kuwait (as opposed to the lack thereof in Kabale) throw me into all sorts of ecstatic revelries. However, this doesn't erase the awkwardness that comes with each love-filled meal. I just feel so antiquated, stereotypical, the archetype woman who knows the way to a man's heart is through his stomach; certainly not his mind. I know without a doubt that I think about things, some things more than others, too much, but what about you? Am I over-analyzing a simple situation or have I unwittingly forced myself into this awkwardness? Moreover, is it so bad to express emotion through a personally well-versed medium, i.e., cooking?

All photos courtesy http://smittenkitchen.com/.

A Return, with Chicken Heads

This is one pissed off chicken.

Wow, the length of time I've been away would suggest I've been incredibly busy and productive elsewhere, but really I've just been focused on the wedding. Which is odd in itself considering this wedding will probably be one of the most low-key affairs ever seen, at least here in Uganda. I suppose it's more accurate to write: I am anxiously awaiting Seth's arrival.

Nevertheless I have managed to add new skills to my repertoire: I slaughtered two chickens. Yep, slaughtered.

Let me tell you, it's much more difficult than I thought. There's the whole "cutting the head off" bit, but also the time leading up to the act. I was so excited at first - buying the hens and all - but when the time came my heart was pumping itself into my throat.

The first one (the white lady pictured) had quite a bit of fight to her, so along with struggling she began to shriek as I cut, which caused me to shriek and and drop the knife after only cutting halfway - one of the spectators had to finish the job. We then just threw the body in the pot - no need to get blood all over the ground! I thought - and discovered that chickens do run around like they've had their heads cut off - when they've actually had their heads cut off. It was quite horrible, really: at one point the thing actually got on it's feet and did a mad sort of scramble forward. You can tell how shocked we all were by the lack of pictures.

The second one was no worries, the head coming off without time for the hen to even realize it. I've got it now. I think my parents would be so proud to know that the suburbs didn't completely spoil their child.

Yes, the ladies were delicious.


Now to work on a goat . . . .

Food Blog

Last night Seth and I finished watching "Julie & Julia" - which was fabulous - and I looked online for roast duck recipes. The number of food blogs available made me think, unfortunately not for the first time, "Hey, I could write a food blog! I eat; I cook; I take pictures; it would be cool!"

Then I had the realistic thought: "Who gives a fuck what I eat? I already ask people to read about my life and now I want them to know about my diet, as well? Oh, how vain I can be."

There is also the sad fact that I rarely cook in Uganda so my posts would read something like, "I bought a pineapple and ate it for dinner." Fascinating.

However, if you are curious please rest assured that I am not losing any weight, so I am eating in food in some combination of delicious; bad for you; and copious quantities.

And fruit. I also eat fruit.

Now you know. And know I have to run to the kitchen because I hear the sounds of my chicken stock boiling over.

It smells delicious.

Attack of the Fifty-Foot Grasshopper! Or, How To Deal with Bugs

Or at least 50 million. Two nights I woke up at one point in the night having to pee (considering the 3 liters of water I drink per day, a fairly common occurrence.) I heard a loud, penetrating hum and, remembering the short circuit in our building earlier in the day, thought something was up with the electricity again. Oh, was I wrong.

The walls outside my room were covered with these little fellows, grasshoppers climbing and flying around. I ran the gauntlet to what I imagined was the relative safety of the toilet, only to find more on the door and even a couple waving at me from the toilet. A terrifying experience for one half-asleep. I re-tucked my net extra tight.

In the morning, while appreciating my mosquito net for keeping out spiders and now grasshoppers, I realized this meant fried grasshoppers would now be available; sure enough, people were out early in the morning, harvesting the bugs from buildings; trees; grass; and the sky was full of birds - crows and sparrows, mainly - gluttonously flying around.

How to fry grasshoppers? It's amazing in it's simplicity:

1. Collect
When the sound of grasshoppers' (let's call them Jiminys) wings rubbing together makes someone think there is a major electrical malfunction, this only takes a few minutes.

2. Clean

As in, remove legs and wings, even as you watch the Jiminys reach for your fingers with their remaining legs - or stumps - and turn their heads left and right, trying to bite you with their pincers. It would be sad, but only if you mistook their behavior for actual intelligence and not the simply life-saving instinct it truly is. Remember: they're just bugs.

It is still creepy, though.

3. Fry

Just dry pan-fry.

Jiminys are so greasy they cook in their own fat; 100% protein my ass.


4. Eat


See? Eating already. Maybe we should consider this for the next locust swarm. We still have 14 years or so to come up with some recipes, right?

Another post, another failure at a catchy title

What's that in the picture? A cake? A strawberry cake? Who the hell cares about a stupid strawberry cake, you may be wondering? I do. That's right, because that cake was baked in a charcoal oven, like this one.


How many cakes have you baked in a charcoal oven? Yeah, that's what I thought.

Seth arrives in Kigali next week, which means the week after that I leave for a month-long vacation. I suppose some would say that 4 (actually 5) weeks off from work is a bit much considering I have been at the job for three months - well, no, I don't know many people who would complain like that but I know they exist. This school term has been exhausting and educative, leaving me with many ideas to use when crafting workshop plans for next year. I have also made some personal revelations:

1) I will never get used to African time. In fact, it takes a lot of deep breathing for me to even be patient with African time. However, I do enjoy it when I use it as my excuse, though locals never do. How come I am supposed to accept their being late but they don't accept mine?

2) I can't stomach black instant coffee. When I first came I was drinking my coffee - the fine, dust-like powder it is - almost straight, with an occasional spoon of purloined sugar from the kitchen, simply because I didn't want to spend money on my own sugar. I know - how cheap can you be? At this point I drink my coffee with sugar, Nido and cocoa powder and if one is missing I suffer pitiably. Yes, life in central African is that hard.

3) I know more about teaching than I realized. I had guessed for some time that, having been in school for so long something had to have rubbed off on me, and it seems it did. More than pedagogical knowledge, however, I also enjoy teaching. This doesn't mean that I never wish I could smack a couple of those punk-ass P5 students across the face, just that I should consider the education field more seriously in the future.

4) Aubergines (to distinguish them form the nasty, bitter green eggplants also found here) have become a favorite of mine; I used to fling these bulbs os nastiness to the floor in disgust. Seriously, who thought that such a spongy, ugly little thing could be tasty? Not me - until now; I've eaten the things 5 times in the past two weeks.

5) This has occurred to me before but has recently become a stark realization: the desperate need for evaluative research into education programs here in Africa. How much of an impact has Smiles had on the live of children here - other than swimming skills, which are easily observed? How many years will a viable program need to be in place before it has any effect, if it has any effect? Is this the right way to go about spreading education? Those typical questions of, "What's the point?" smacking me straight in the face. It's relevant, though: Smiles has been working with Bufuka Primary School since 2004, which means the majority of P7 students had experienced Smiles workshops for 5 years - yet half of them can't understand English. What was achieved?

6) It is hard being away from Seth. Yes, we both knew it would be difficult but had no idea - no fucking idea - just how hard it would be. I hadn't realized the essentiality of that man in my life but it's there, deep and strong. Serendipity struck strong that day in the airport.

7) Finally - I hate foam mattresses. But charcoal ovens? Bring it.

Shout-out from K-Dub!

I have several thoughtful and perhaps thought-provoking posts I am working on, but it seems every time I try to think of two thoughtful sentences in a row my brain crashes. Instead of leaving you weeping in your beds, missing my pointless rambling and desperately wondering when my next post will be (all five of you who read this) I decided to give a quick update on life here in the K-Dub. Happily, this includes photos.

Views of the Persian/ Arabian Gulf are beautiful, if monotonous. I like to gaze upon it and think, "I could go in that direction and completely lose personal rights; maybe skirt across the Gulf that way and find myself in an un-winnable war; or just go northeast and personally witness a growing revolution. Madness!"



Some days I just know I won't be running or going outside. Seth calls this "dusty."



Or a sandstorm blows in and if you happen to go outside sand will instantly coat your nostrils and mouth. They can last several days.



But rest assured that if your need for some new ink is insatiable, tattoo artists make housecalls.


When I buy my chickens I normally request that they be chopped into quarters or smaller, easy-to-eat sections so that I don't have to bother with it once I get home. A couple a days ago my guy also included the feet. I have seen Tony Bourdain eat chicken feet while visiting South Korea, but as Seth had no inclination to experiment I decided against the trouble of figuring out how to de-bone those suckers. On a different, yet similar, note: in that same episode I also saw Bourdain eat chicken anuses, but I think I would just feel inappropriate, like I owed the chicken dinner or something.

I've Been Missin' You

Since people often want to know what I miss when I am away from home (I assume they mean the States) I figured a handy blog would best explain my nostalgia. Considering I had a dream last night in which I thought of writing a blog like this before I realized I was no longer in Kuwait but actually back in the US I'd say the timing is spot on.
To be clear: I don't consider "friends and family" as a valid answer for "what do you miss?" because those, to me, are a given. If I could take my closest friends, and perhaps a few family members, and bring them all together here (by here meaning "not Kuwait") I totally would. However, my nostalgia operates somehow along the guidelines of reality, so here it goes:


1. Wine - Not even beer or liquor, but just the ability to go down to the store, pick up a bottle and enjoy a glass or two at night - or 10am; whatever, I don't work - and perhaps find myself surprised at the little gem I discovered for only $5, rather than going to the store for sparkling grape juice, yeast and sugar and a week later expressing surprise at the malodorous vinegar I just created.

2. American Washers - And dryers, just to be even. I don't know what miniature race washers here were invented for, but I would like something with the capacity to handle clothing of an average-sized human adult. Think I am exaggerating? The first picture is an example of a typical outfit for the Sergeant: jeans, t-shirt, underwear, undershirt, socks. Please note the items crammed into the washer with space remaining for perhaps another t-shirt.



Plus the fact that the setting for "cotton" takes 2 hours to complete. Seriously:





I either wash everything on "delicate' (53 minutes) or handwash. I saw these same miniscule machines in England; what the hell, people?


3. Lettuce - You may know I love salads, not because I am forever watching my weight (though I do) but because I love the myriad flavor combinations possible with them. I am under no delusions that lettuce topped with fried chicken breast, corn, beans, cheese, tortilla strips and ranch dressing is healthy - shit just tastes real good. However, iceberg lettuce costs about $6/ head, so I don't venture down that path ofextravagance. White cabbage is also expensive (!) topping out at around $8/ kilo. Pita bread, on the other hand, costs about 20 cents for a package of 6.


4. Recycling - I would say I have been "environmentally aware" since I was 8 or so - around the time I received my first issue of Ranger Rick. While I am currently nowhere near as involved as I once was, I like to at least recycle because to me it is an extremely visual way to reduce impact. Yet there is no recycling here. I drink 3 liters of bottled water a day (because it's better to drink than the desalinated water from the tap.) What am I supposed to do with all those? How do I reuse that many bottles each week!?

On the plus side, I do enjoy being able to simply switch my electrical outlets "on" or "off". If this was widely available in the States we wouldn't have to worry about all that unplugging nonsense: just turn off the outlet.

Bam.

PS - I apologize for the wonky font settings. Apparently Blogger.com continues to befuddle me!

Back to the Daily Grind - and Chickens

Which entails a good deal of cleaning and dinner preparation, maybe a few hours on the internet reading the news or trying to figure out how expats get jobs. I think I have one teaching English, at least part-time, so that's a start - except the hours are in the evening, after the (adult) students leave work. The problem? The only time Seth and I have together are 30 minutes in the morning; a few hours at night; and his one day off each week. Taking a job where the full-time hours are 3:30-9pm would severely limit our time together and as one of the motivating factors for moving here was actually being able to touch one another, that could be a problem. Again, though, I'm at just starting part-time (though I don't know exactly when I start) so we'll see how it goes.

My first few days here I didn't venture into the meat market simply because I didn't know the fair price for a chicken (and because Seth doesn't like mutton, the other protein widely available), but once I found out I was all over it. I normally go to the same stall because the birds there are a decent size and the vendors are nice enough. You can also buy fresh eggs. How awesome is that? Many expats - especially Americans - don't buy food from the meat or fish market because they assume its unsanitary (what with everything in the open and all), but the markets are all halal and inspectors come around regularly to make sure the area is clean and up to par; plus, the building is air conditioned, so its not as though butchered meat is just hanging around in 115F heat. I think Westerners are put off by actually seeing a live animal, then having a chicken carcass handed to them a few minutes later. Buying disembodied chicken breasts adds a significant amount of space between you and the animal you are eating while also removing much of the work involved in cleaning the damn thing, but obviously detracts from the freshness of the meat.

Come on, though: a 2kg chicken and 30 eggs for a little over 2KD - that's less than $8! Why would anyone pass that up?


Plus this time the butcher included all the innards, including that deceptively delicious little nugget known as the gizzard which, thanks to Robert, aka The Goat Guy, aka The Chicken Guy, I know how to clean properly.
So as long as I remember that those eggs probably aren't pasteurized then it's all good, right? Yum.