this blog is dedicated to the late and great, yet somewhat androgynous (never did figure its sex out) muffy zucker, who lived in a small fishtank and was the second best younger sibling ive ever had. it is also dedicated to carly, who turned 28, and to anthony, who also turned 28, both last week.
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really, it was very nice of fausto. upon catching wind of the fact that anthony and i, and our friends dave and emily, wanted to go and eat cuy (guinea pig - specialty at occasions here, akin to turkey), he took it upon himself to orgaize a school trip with everyone at simon bolivar, thus guaranteeing a good price and location for the cuy. so on friday at noon we traipsed off to the country side. a 15 minute bus ride out of cuenca found us at an intersection of 2 dusty roads, on which cows and roosters replaced the honking cars and indigenous vendors of centro cuenca. we alighted the bus and entered an unassuming comedor type place, which turned out to be a raher festive looking restaurant inside. fausto led us past the nicely set tables and to the outside cellar. here we found our cuys: hairless, pale, and splayed out, bisected by a wide pole, turning over fire. it is necessary, says anthony´s spanish teacher enma, to constantly turn the bitty pigs so that they dont explode as they are roasting. well, they looked terrible, turning like that, mouths held open by the iron poles as though they were cought in mid scream. but then, no more terrible than anything else. so we took pictures, went upstairs, and sat down to eat.
after some lovely canelazo and suprisingly good mote (incomprehensible boiled corn like substance that is served with. every. meal.) our cuyitos came out. they were presented to us on a platter, they,re skin was brown and cuminy, their heads facing forward, eyes unblinking, staring at nothing. theyre bodies were sprawled and hacked, warm smells eminating, ceremonious, like a turkey.
tasted, more or less, like chicken.
recipe for canelazo:
1 liter (?) boiled water with a few cinammon sticks and 2 naranjillas (other fruits could work. maybe an orange?)
1 half bottle seco, aguardiente, or, if impossible, light rum
more sugar than you would ever think to use.
once water boils, drink, and enjoy. its good for you!
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Anna -- Great use of the word traipsed. This is a word seldom heard outside of my mother’s clean kitchen where I have been accused (quite frequently I might add) of traipsing through with my dirty shoes on. It is a word that should be brought to the forefront of the English vernacular and thank you, Anna, for once again igniting it’s power. I like alighted too, but my mother has never accused me of sullying her kitchen with my alightedness.
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