Why My Uncle Tomi Rules

My Uncle Tomi, who resides in Melbourne, is a very smart guy. He works as a translator and lived in Russia once upon a time. He politely investigated the items in my fridge I posted earlier and shared some info with me. Thanks U. Tomi.

Dear Alicia,

I have really enjoyed your latest blog. You have a very good style; one can see the journalist schooling.

For your edification:

The bottle of pomegranate states that it is "a gigt from Azerbajdjan" and it is a "pomegranate juice" (COK = juice).

The next one with the cow on it states that it has a "delicate plum flavour".

And the cheese spread states that it is "molten pateurised cheese with smoked meat products".

Now you know what is (or was) in your fridge.

Look forward to seeing you soon and hearing all your stories.

Love,

U. Tomi

Yes, I am very concerned about the "molten pateurised cheese with smoked meat products" and no I do not know what "a gigt from Azerbajdjan" means.

Folk of the Faraway Fridge

I realised tonight that our fridge is currently hosting a fantastical array of fabulous but freaky goods. I say goods because I am slightly concerned about calling some of these things 'food' or 'drink'. Here's a little look at the residents of the fridge Clare and I call 'ours':

I will now attempt to explain some of the curiouser items.

Once upon a time we had a Belgian housemate. He hosted an xmas dinner party at our place while we were out of town. This was all that remained. The "25% foie gras" label has had me running scared since it appeared on the scene. It's the longest standing item in the fridge, having clocked up an impressive nine months in there and still going strong. GO WEIRD TINNED ITEM!

So fresh + so clean. Everything I look for in a beer really. This takes second place in the battle for longevity in our fridge. It appeared one day and never left. I think we're subconsciously waiting for its owner to come and reclaim it, lest we get accused of snaffling someone's last beer. Is it yours? You clearly know where we live, so please come and rescue your lonely little friend.


Russian pomegranate juice is delicious. I don't know the word for 'pomegranate' or 'juice' in Russian but I do know the first gold Cyrillic word here says 'Sok'... which is funny.

Look at this fucking rainbow connection. Rainbows + cows = Russian butter. Did you learn nothing at farm school?

Seabuckthorn wine. No really. 16% alcohol and counting. Sweetly satisfying.


I thought this was Russian cheese spread when I bought it. Then I ate it. I am still no closer to knowing what it is.


A friend brought me back some camel cheese from the Gobi Desert. Over a month ago. The Mongolians sure know how to build things that last.


Luckily this veritable smorgasbord of Russian roulette, French faux pas and Mongolian madness isn't all we've got - somehow Clare and I have managed to keep a tomato plant alive long enough to each grow our own tasty tomato. Just like us, with only a month to go before we ship out of here, they've just about grown enough to jump off their cosy tomato branch and find a new home. *Insert collective 'aw' or 'vomit' here* depending on your predilection.

Good News Monday

On one of my early adventures around the city to hunt + gather my lunch, I lucked upon a wonderful place. Small, bustling and full of locals chowing down on traditional food like buuz, khushuur and one of my favourites, tsuivan, it was cheap, quick and tasty. The woman taking cash would ignore my order until I said it properly in Mongolian (or a fellow diner took pity on me and enunciated correctly on my behalf), and much of the time I had no idea what I was ordering, but I persevered anyway and hoped it would be the outside flesh of an animal rather than its insides I scored on my plate. Then I'd push my way to the front of the canteen style window to collect my food before finding an old lady or some Mongolian sparkies to share a table with. It was my favourite solo lunch-eating establishment until I was dealt a life changing blow on December 1, 2009.

Sender:

Sam Wearne

Received:

14:31:59

01-12-2009

I don't know how to say this but... your favourite restaurant has been demolished. Maybe we shouldn't have given them the mullah to consider some renos. Damn it!

To:

Sam Wearne

Sent:

14:33:07

01-12-2009

WHAT? SAY IT AIN'T SO. Where the fuck am I going to get lunch now?

Cue feelings of devastation and a hefty grieving period. Just to be sure Sam wasn't being a heartless bastard and messing with my fragile food-loving heart, I visited the site. I fell to my knees, sobbing when I saw a giant, gaping hole between two money changers where the restaurant once served unidentifiable meat goods and soggy steamed bread.

But today, I discovered that sometimes, (not that often) things happen very quickly in Mongolia, and that miracles can actually occur.

Sender:

Sam Wearne

Received:

13:30:52

11-01-2010

You're gonna love this. They rebuilt the restaurant already. I'm eating goulash and buuz as we speak.

To:

Sam Wearne

Sent:

13:39:33

11-01-2010

Holy shit. Life is good. I love this country!

I Ate This #2

If you happen to follow my Twitter (yes, the internet and I are unhealthily close), you will note that over the new year celebratory period, I was coming home after many wonderful sessions with my friend Chinggis (he of the vodka variety) and eating fish cheese. I really don't think the cheese is made from fish, but fuck me if it doesn't reek of the ocean and taste a bit rank. I cracked open my 1L duty-free bottle of Jameson this evening and three minutes ago got a little peckish. Although I vowed not to do it again, I revisted my old friend, Mr Fishkäse. Here it is in all its resplendent, plaited glory:



And for the record, I did not purchase this smoked cheese monstrosity. My temporary Belgian housemate did. He also applauds foie gras and is about to go camping in the middle of a Mongolian winter, so it's possible his brain is a little confused.

I Ate This In Berlin #2

My expat friends living in Berlin say they are BIB* when they get home after being out of town. I am now BIUB# after spending a week IB^. (I am currently working for an NGO. Acronyms are becoming my life). I had a lovely time with the beautiful Ria + Chris and ate + drank many delicious things.

At a delightful xmas market we drank glühwein with Harriet. Not too much though - spewing warm red wine is no fun for anyone.

We drank Russische hot chocolate (go for one part cocoa and 17 parts vodka and you're on your way. Hello Moscow).

Christo gave a duck a bath before roasting it for xmas lunch. That duck sat on my knee in the train on the way home from the market. It had a bony butt. Its mother should have told it to eat more.

I saw these in the local booze shop. Of course I purchased them. Wouldn't you?

*Back In Berlin

#Back In Ulaanbaatar

^In Berlin

Cheer Up Charlie Winter Warmer Recipe

Partly inspired by Indira's excellent Saucy Onion and partly the result of a very uncomfortable sleepless night, here is my 'Cheer Up Charlie Winter Warmer' recipe, also known as 'Colonic Irrigation For Those On A Budget'. If you ever watched the original version of Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory, (and hopefully fast-forwarded through the torture of said song) you may recall Charlie and his bed-sharing grandparents survived on cabbage and Wonka Bars. My soup pays homage, sans the golden ticket...

INGREDIENTS

1 x cabbage
1 x onion
Garlic cloves (however many you like, depending on the evening's plans)
Chilli
Paprika
Assorted root vegetables found in the fridge / cupboard
Salt + pepper
Water
Random stock cubes purchased at the market (I like these because they have pictures. I assume one is chicken and one mushroom. For obvious reasons).


DIRECTIONS

1. Head to local store.
2. Recoil in horror at sheep's heads sitting in open fridge type contraption.



3. Bypass sheep and find a nice head of cabbage instead.



4. Head home and assess fridge and cupboard situation. Usually there will be a random potato or carrot floating around. Peel and chop those suckers. Chop up the onion + garlic too, then fry them with some chilli. Chuck in the chopped cabbage and random vegetables, give them a quick fry, then throw in boiling water, stock cubes, paprika and whatever else takes your fancy.

5. If you want to give the soup a decidedly Mongolian edge, consider throwing some buuz into the mix. The Buckets would lose their Wonkafied minds over these things. While the soup is doing the business on one hot plate, steam some pre-bought mutton dumplings on the other. If you don't own a steamer, never fear - a strainer can serve more than one purpose.



6. Throw the buuz into the soup when it's fully cooked, stir + serve. A tasty winter treat for those on a budget / living in a country where a tomato probably costs more than a whole sheep.

I Ate This #1

Dairy products are kinda popular here. Apparently traditionally, in the summertime, nomads were effectively vegetarian and ate only dairy and no meat. We tried some of the extensive dairy selection yesterday. I kept it all down, although some of it would have been better out of my belly...

Mystery Dairy Product (name recollection failure)

Dried Curds