Asian Fusion

It’s 10pm and still VERY VERY VERY hot.  Yesterday at this time it was 30 degrees.  Today, was forcasted to be 38 during the day, 2 degrees hotter than yesterday, and tonight I’m certain it is hotter than 30.  Sitting here with the window open (there’s a shade, but air can move through), in shorts and a tank top, directly in front of a fan on high, I am still - if ever so slightly - sweating.  And yet, I don’t wish I had your air conditioning.  I DO wish it were cooler.  I do wish I could comfortably consider the idea of Capri yoga pants without being disgusted by the knowledge of how hot and sticky that would be …. But I do not long for dry frigid air and long sleeves in summer.

Not to mention, when it’s this hot all I want to eat is soup and watermelon.  Today I even skipped lunch because it was just too hot.   Since I haven’t made it to Frisbee this entire time (a.  It’s hot.  b. Frisbee is a 6 mile round trip walk in addition to, well, Frisbee.  c. Frisbee happens on the first and usually only day that I get to be alone for the whole of the day … guess Frisbee will just have to wait for Boston.), and I’ve only managed to do some yoga once, perhaps a change in diet is warranted.  Good thing because a change of diet is entirely unavoidable.

My cooking is not, nor is it ever likely to be described as “asian” of the central or any other sort of asian.  However, being that I am here, and local food is almost always cheaper than imported foods why not incorporate a few delicacies into my diet.  The following is an account of some of the foods that I have concocted or stumbled upon along the way.

Dried kiwi:  It’s sort of like dried mango, only it’s kiwi and has an odd aroma of fish.  I do wonder if that’s perhaps because of the situation in which it was dried, but also try not to think about that situation in any form whatsoever. 

Walnut cookies:  I don’t know who makes them, or where they come from, but they make me so happy.  We had these in Turkmenistan too, and it didn’t seem like they came from that place either.  Deceiving as the name may be, they do not seem to have any walnut in them.  They are merely shortbread type cookies with some sort of dulce du lece type filling, that when sandwiched look an aweful lot like walnuts.  I should also note that this name is not even close to being official and most people wouldn’t know what I was talking about when I say “walnut cookie”. 

Bisella:  Aka duo crème, aka crème duo, aka that nutella cream with the vanilla swirled in, or as shown Benuta Duo.  Not sure how it made it here.  So unbelievably happy it did.

Cream of Goat soup:  Is about as bad as it sounds like it would be.  I made this delicious lentil, bean and goat stew from some left over roast animal, but I had a few cartons of heavy, heavy, so heavy as to be sour cream consistency without the sour part, heavy cream that I needed to use.  I figured cream of chicken soup was good, cream of beef wasn’t unheard of, creamy lentil is also good.  Why not?!  Because it’s terrible.  That’s why not. 

Watermelon:  You know that part of the watermelon right in the middle where it’s bright, bright red and super sweet?  Now imagine the whole watermelon tasting like that.  Everything, right to the rind, expect maybe for the middle part which is a little more flavorful.   

Tea:  I drink so much tea here.  Green tea, Black tea, and not yet black powder tea … but maybe soon.

Pears:  I ate a pear here the other day that tasted like you would expect pear syrup to taste.  It was the flavor that candy manufacturers based pear flavoring on, if they’d actually based it on a real fruit.  It was delicious … unfortunately by the time we’d eaten through ¾ of the pear, the ants agreed with us, and the last ¼ was no longer appetizing.

Montu:  Kind of like Monti … only as big as your hand.  Steamed dumplings of ground meat and onion.  They’re as pretty as they are delicious.

Laghman:  Also known as soup.  It’s like Turkmen soup on a bed of noodles.  No?  Okay, how about … it’s soup with chunks of meat, half of a potato (no need to chop it up), a carrot (also whole), and tasty broth, but rather than putting it in an empty bowl, we’ll pour it into a bowl that happens to already be half full of homemade noodles.  And just to keep you guessing – maybe we’ll add a dollop of sour cream.

And I think my favorite dish here:  Shakarob!  It seems that most cultures have recipes to deal with left over bread/baked goods that just go stale too quickly.  The Austrians have Sacher Torte, smearing jam between two layers of cake to make sure that even if it would have gone bad, maybe it will just absorb the extra jam and taste fine a few days longer.  The French have bread pudding.  Oh bread pudding.  Right now there are two people who are tied for first place when it comes to bread pudding.  Michael and my Dad.  I do admit that my father is at a bit of a disadvantage, however.  I haven’t had my Dad’s bread pudding in years, so the memory isn’t very fresh in my head … whereas Michael made it just a few months ago.  Don’t worry though, being fair minded as I am, I will most certainly allow my father  the opportunity to best Michael with his culinary magic.  Tie breakers will be determined at a later date.

… I have allowed myself to be distracted:  Always a danger when writing a post about food.  So yes.  Austria:  Sacher Torte.  France (England?):  Bread Pudding.  Moving on to the savory responses to stale bread Turkmenistan has Dograma.  Dograma is what happens when culinary school goes very poorly.  I was not a fan.  In order to make dograma you wait for bread to go stale … Luckily, depending on the bread, you might not have to wait more than a minute or two.  Then you shred this bread into small, stuffing sized pieces.  (ooohhh Stuffing!  Another answer to stale bread.  Yummy!)  These pieces of stale bread are topped with a piece or two of meat and then broth is poured over the whole thing.  Salt liberally.  The bread is about as bland and soggy as you would imagine.  The good news is, it fills the belly and is relatively safe to eat without threat of broken tooth or intestinal distress.

Finally, there is Tajikistan’s response:  Shakarob!  I wish I could write that out with the same enthusiasm and enunciation as I have in my head, but no phonetics will do this word justice.  It is pronounced something like Shah-ka-ROBE, but whenever I say it it’s almost like a battle-cry or something that a child would excitedly cry before doing something particularly brave.  Anywho, much like dograma, the bread is shredded only this time it’s spread out on a wide flat-ish serving bowl.  It’s then topped with tomato, cucumber, onion and whatever herbs are in season.  I had it once with mint and dill and I HIGHLY recommend that.  Then the whole thing is doused with a thin yogurt mixed with linseed oil.  It’s delicious. 

Perhaps this also should have been divided into several posts, but I couldn’t find a place to pause.  Rather than actually wrapping this up, let me leave you with a question:  Does anyone know where one would get linseed oil (the non-poisonous, edible kind) in the US?  I know more than one of you frequents whole foods – is this something they would have?

The Things We Call Ourselves

The people fighting against the Tajik government in southern Tajikistan have been given many labels: Guerrillas, rebels, warlords, organized crime gangs.

 My favorite is: the former opposition. It seems to me that if they're still shooting at you, they're probably CURRENT opposition.

I'm just sayin ...

This is what happens when East Germans are relaocated to Central Asian valleys.

Wait Wait ...

So I wouldn’t say that I’m someone who listens to NPR.  On a really long car ride I will tune-in to the occasional NPR/talk radio channel as the music becomes monotonous and I just need something to change it up.  Periodically, through these instances I get to listen to shows like Click and Clack’s Car Talk, or Wait Wait Don’t Tell Me, and I do thoroughly enjoy them.  In fact, once I’ve found that they’re on, I will often scan through the public radio channels trying to find the beginning of the show so that I can listen in entirety.  As much as I enjoy it, I am not someone who, sitting around on a Saturday morning, is likely to turn on the radio in the hopes of hearing a particular show.

Except for today.  It’s more than the show, it’s more than hearing English.  There is something very comforting about hearing what would be on the radio at home. 

Not being someone who requires music all the time, indeed I think I need more quiet/silent time than most, when I left for Turkmenistan I didn’t think it was important to bring any music with me.  I will never make that mistake again.  After about 10 months, my mom spent over $50 in shipping and god knows how many hours copying CDs to send to me with a little portable CD player and headphones.  My Birthday present in June.  The first CD that I listened to was either Nora Jones or Sarah Mclachlan.  I was so overcome that I laydown on the floor listening while tears streamed down my face.  It’s the first time I remember ever crying tears of joy and I felt ridiculous.  What was a very hard tenure, in a strange and wonderful country was suddenly a lot more bearable.  Another year was possible, and brought to you by the Carpenters and whatever other CDs my step-father happened to have that my mom could copy for me.

I know now how important these things are, and have never been in a situation with that little contact with the outside world since.  So when I downloaded two episodes (?) of Wait Wait this morning, there were no tears.  I was not overcome, however I am still extremely grateful to have access to a little piece of home. 

So thank you Claire!  Your enthusiasm for the show, a bit of a suggestion, led to a little enjoyment here in Tajikistan.

A completely unrelated moment of zen: I did a search using Google's handy little keyword finder app to see if I could do a better job drawing in new people to the site. The final suggestion for my blog "writing a will" both highly sought after and with low competition. I couldn't stop laughing. How morbidly appropriate.

A Chinese Construction Site - and other oddities

So we’ve covered the 60% of the trip with good roads, the 5km of the “tunnel of death” as another blogger dubbed it, now there is still one more mountain range to cross.  If you’re interested in seeing the actual route the road’s labeled M34 on this map.

View Larger Map

I tried to re-route the gmap directions onto that road, but google apparently doesn’t think that it’s an acceptable way to travel and won’t give directions.

(Hint: If you want to be able to manipulate the map, click on the link "View Larger Map" in blue under this picture) 

Anywho, as I was getting to the point where I was so nervous from speeding around hairpin turns at 60 km/hr (it feels faster than I’m sure it converts) that I was giggling uncontrollably and my eyes had started to water enough that  I had a tear running down my face, we were mercifully stuck behind a very large truck.  This was not unusual.  The unusual thing was that we weren’t trying to pass on a road barely wide enough for two cars with extremely limited visibility. In no time we had crossed onto a dirt road.  In fact, the road looked less like a road and more like an abandoned construction site from an old mafia movie.  As we crawled further and further up the mountain, we hit several forks in the “road” at which we weren’t certain which route was the road and which part was the construction entrance.  While I was initially skeptical of our policy of “well, we’ll just follow the big truck” since we were in a construction site after all, it seemed to work out.  We were carried through a chinese work site and camp where I’m told they are building another tunnel.  This one is supposed to be much better than the Iranian tunnel, and judging by the avalanche shelters which the Chinese built along the earlier section of the road, I tend to believe them. 

The downside of this construction (my private upside) was that the road was really quite rough.  We climbed several mountains on glorified dirt paths.  This is perhaps not fair.  They were well enough engineered that a steady stream of trucks and cars passed along it all day long without much issue.  Russian dirt roads perhaps? …

After more than an hour  of climbing, possibly even two,  my colleagues triumphantly announced that we had crested the top of the range and would begin our decent!  To celebrate we stopped at a slightly wider section of the road to take a picture or two and breathe before beginning the harrowing decent back down.  Mistake?  Maybe.  I personally think it was our saving grace:

Here is a picture of the head doctor in our group pouring water directly into the radiator.  I don’t know if you had this class is driver’s education, but we were very clearly instructed to NEVER EVER remove the radiator cap when the engine is hot.  Well, despite lots of advice and three other people pleading with him not to do it, our brave Dr. Professor gingerly removed the radiator cap.  Luckily, no one was injured (that time).  The car did spout out some angry looking black smoke when we poured water in, but the engine did not crack.  It was a success!  After much trying and 4.5 liters of water, the car was finally cool enough to start again, and down the road we went.  Ever grateful to be on a dirt road which required a more leisurely pace. 

This is from our return trip.  At the top of the mountain, before we began our decent, we were apparently not the only car with road damage.  Some of those stopped are merely taking a break, but several cars were being worked on, or smoking, or both.  All in all we had the muffler welded twice, the entire undercarriage disassembled and reassembled, the petrol pump replaced, and we were told that the thermostat for the car was completely blown.  I was told that it was much more economical to drive, but with the cost of all those repairs, food, petrol, and liquid gas, maybe a $150 plane ticket would have been worth it.