There are times in life you are sure that you have something in the bag. A few weeks ago, my friend Denbe came over with a pot of food for dinner. It was sheep's innards boiled with water and salt. The dish looked similar to a first year medicine anatomy lesson- all the body bits were in there. While I am willing to try many a new thing, this was slightly pushing my limits. So I suggested I make some pasta to make sure there was enough food. I made a fresh cherry tomato pasta with lots of garlic and oregano. In short, delicious. I presented it to my friend to be had alongside the innards. Sitting back to wait for the praise that was bound to follow, I was fairly sure it was going to substantially impress this friend and some others that had joined us. They tasted it, politely smiled and asked to be passed the innards. What?!?!?!?! resonated around my head as I tried to choke down another piece of rubbery kidney.
If Mongolia has taught me one thing, taste is socialised. Mongolian food and I have not discovered a natural affinity for each other. But my Mongolian friends place their cuisine amongst the world's best. With most dishes consisting primarily of mutton, salt and flour, it is food that has allowed people to survive the harsh winters over hundreds of years and probably contributed to some outrageous cholesterol levels. The whitegoods, mentioned in early posts, also feature heavily. Cheese, Airag (fermented mare's milk), yoghurt and cream are offered to any household visitor. Said to cure most illnesses, markets have Airag stands to make sure it is readily available to the public. There is much ritual surrounding these foods. Firstly, there is the ready offering to household visitors. If any is dropped on the floor (a verifiable sin), the sinner must rub a little on their forehead. Milk blessing are undertaken daily with women tossing milk into the sky three times.
One of the things, I do enjoy here is the generosity with which food is offered. When arriving into anyone's home the first thing done is that you are offered a seat and something to eat. This may the bowl of lollies every Mongolian home has. I refused to have one at mine due to the amount of black teeth children have and the fact I feared I would just eat them all. This lasted a week as I felt I was the worst host ever. The next thing you are offered is milky, slightly salted tea and then the whitegoods. This may continue to escalate until a full meal and the vodka arrives. This generosity historically allowed people to maintain the nomadic culture and easily travel across the country, ensuring every ger is a haven where food and shelter will be provided with a smile.
This generosity does mean no quick visits. I popped in to pick up something from my friend, Amgaa. Amgaa and I had been working together closely at the Hospital and he had taught me much about Mongolian medicine and it's politics. He had undertaken training in South Korea for a year and was relieved to return home to some good Mongolian food. Within two minutes of arriving at his apartment, I heard the line that often causes me concern, "Sarah, sit down, I will make you Mongolia's national dish." What followed was four hours of food and chat with others arriving. By the end, I left with the item I originally popped over for and a strengthened respect for the time Mongolians are willing to give to others.
My friend, Denbe was determined to continue to teach me Mongolian food ways. She arrived a week ago, armed with Khuushuurr making ingredients. A Kuushuurr is the Mongolian equivalent of a samosa, a fried mutton pancake. As we were cooking in my kitchen, I was a bit cheeky and sneakily added garlic, ginger and cumin. We rolled out the dough, stuffed and fried it. The result was delicious and something I would be happy to find at 3am after a night out. A bit of fusion and we both had a bit more appreciation for the other's cuisine.
