Food for thought

As a foodie I thought I’d spend a lot more time writing about food in this space. Alas, given my cooking style, I fear not doing so may have cost me some good recipes. I tend to be inspired by a key ingredient at hand or a recipe I can adapt to what’s in the fridge. Apparently this is a genetic predisposition, because my mom cooks the same way. Strangely we also recently discovered when we shared a room at my uncle’s house that neither of us can stand to sleep with our feet covered, no matter the temperature. Weird!

The blessing of cooking this way is that it makes the food interesting and delicious and independent of ingredient circumstances. The curse is that I can usually never duplicate anything and forget what I made almost immediately.

I made a salad the other night that was really good, because I stumbled upon a friend’s amazingly stocked pantry. And by well stocked I mean brimming with such delicacies as limes, cranberries, feta cheese and salmon. Salmon in Gulu? That’s a first I’m sure. My salad had mixed leaves, red pepper, cucumber, feta, cranberries, scallions and pine nuts. The dressing was whole grain mustard and white balsamic. This sounds delicious but not extraordinary. But consider this: not one of those items can be purchased in Gulu or indeed in a 200 mile radius of Gulu. The pantry envy I had was not just in her stock, but also or more so in her skill of importing such exotic items into Gulu. It’s really not that easy.

Transporting Mzungu food to Gulu is exhausting. First of all, while Kampala’s offerings are well above and beyond Gulu’s, it’s still difficult to purchase many items that would be considered staple food at home. To buy cream cheese, bagels and orange juice, for example, is possible (yay!) but involves traveling to three shops (boo!). Multiple supermarket stops are essential, but time consuming. Usually my Kampala trips are a couple of days based on a series of meetings I might stack up. Shopping has to be done in the margins of work and travel schedules. As such, traipsing the average 4 supermarkets per visit usually involves a mad dash around the city.

And then of course, once the items are procured, there is the issue of preservation. It’s a long, hot journey to Gulu. Getting the particularly perishable items such as meat and cheese north involves creative packing. I almost always forget my cooler. Because I’m down for a few days, I try to stay in a place with a fridge to store bought items. (This can get embarrassing at a place like Serena where I’m constantly ferrying in month’s supplies of milk, cereal, etc. I sometimes feel like a hobo sneaking into that grand place.)

Buying ice is only possible about 50% of the time. “The ice is not there,” is usually the response to my question. Why do I continue to ask it? My relatively fail-safe storage method is buying frozen items right before departing Kampala and packing other items requiring refrigeration around them. I tie them tight in a plastic bag, tuck them into a part of the car that I hope the equatorial sunshine will not find and then hope that the spoil rate for say, unrefrigerated butter, is more than the four hours it takes to get to Gulu. (It is by the way.)

Once in Gulu, storing refrigerated items in Gulu is no picnic either. The dodgy power supply means that items may go several hours to days without refrigeration. I used to try to keep a fresh ice pack in the fridge, changing it daily with the hope that its presence would keep the fridge useful a little longer. Now I just kind of guess on the spoilage rate. I’ve also learned to freeze with reckless abandon. I even – wait for it – RE-FREEZE things. Gasp! The horror! I know. I think this and hand washing are the golden rules of hygiene. But I haven’t gotten myself or anyone sick yet...

When I sit down with guests in my lovely outdoor hut at night, it all seems worth it. In the balmy evening breeze, they “ooo” and “ahh” over decadent grilled mushrooms sprinkled with parmesan, chorizo tossed in cilantro and lemon grass, and wheat bread with real butter, not coagulated vegetable oil.

P.S. I just made up that menu since I can never recall my past creations. Maybe I’ll try it this weekend!