Just a quick update from south of Siberia, perhaps of interest: after two weeks in Ulaan Bataar, Mongolia, one tends to appreciate the way us Yanks (or Italians; or Westerners in general) grill a steak. The anthropological reasoning behind why Mongolians cook the shit out of their meat might have to do with making sure food-born illnesses are gotten rid of. The gamey mutton has a "bouquet" of flavors. Right now I'm craving steak Florentine proper, a hand-sized cut of Montana or Great Plains beef (med-rare, naturally), or some of the prime rib I was treated to at the Bellagio in Vegas before I left. The Germans have a few entrepreneurial in-roads here (more and more each year), so there is plenty of good sausage. It'd be great to locate a piece of Kobe beef somewhere, especially since it's only a 4-5 hour flight to Tokyo, but I'm guessing Jap xenophobia (that is, Japanese disdain towards Mongols) might prevent that all-together. And I can only imagine the outrage Mongolian chefs would exact on that kind of primo beef -- on par with Ghinggis Khan razing Baghdad.
There's a great Ukraine restaurant about three blocks from where I'm staying. I again had lunch there today, and noticed that the Russians and Mongolians are well-aware of it too. Great borscht soup. Absolutely. Even better after walking in from the sub-zero weather.
Vodka sales are still being controlled since the 14 Mongolian deaths over the New Year. Lonely Planet's "Mongolian Phrasebook" says that Mongolians typically like to jam three days of drinking into one on New Years. That ethos coupled with mineral spirits a shoddy vodka producer mistakenly bottled as vodka resulted in the 14 deaths, and then a massive reaction by the communist government currently in power. Even the sale of piva was banned. Slowly the cops are allowing one store after another to sell. Mongolians I talk to are disgusted by it all.
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6 comments:
interesting. keep the reports coming. I wonder if the kobe isn't hard to find for the price. the Russians I knew just off the Aeroflot were horrified when I would serve them steaks rare. they mush preferred the hell boiled outta everything and were happily surprised not to have to go to a doctor after my dinner parties. eventually it ecame to them what eaing a mess of jalapenos is to us: a rollercoaster ride at dinner. your body is sure you're gonna die but you hang it over the edge for the fun of it.
good times back then scaring the bejesus outta Ivan with nothing scarier than a fork.
Sounds great about the Russkies. Like the Mongolians, I'm sure they still fear the food-born illness factor. What kind of Great Utopia would that have been? At least we would've had good vodka.
I'll gladly download some of my photos to FCP once I get back to the States the first week of February.
We'll welcome you back with snide remarks. Rest assured.
I'd start to worry that something was wrong without that kind of homecoming.
They need some Absolut
The next time we get around to visiting with one another, I'll purchase the first Svenska bottle.
I just had some really smooth stuff last night in a Mongolian ger. Two bottles between three of us, and memories from the latter part of the evening become increasingly hazy.
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