On eating Guinea Pig

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So, after my last entry, I found a resturant overlooking the main Plaza which was reputed to serve good Cuy - the Peruvian delicacy. Being a game old bird, I am happy to try anything, but I think this was one of the more bizarre foods I have ever eaten! Here is my account of the ensuing battle.

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There were several resturants viying for my patronage as I walked towards my pre-selected eatary, which meant when I arrived at said place, I was obliged to ask the waiter trying to usher me in if I coulkd have a free Pisco Sour with my meal - he aquiesed. Win! Seating myself in a perfect people watching position, my order was taken without me ever looking at the menu, and I sipped my drink whilst watching the enormous variety of people swarm past below (entertaining to sat hthe least).

I pondered for a moment on the different types of travellers: you get the very functional travellers, with combed hair, walking boots and technical jackets - the Germans. You get the Quechua (Decathlon's own brand) adorned, the French. The short, slightly exotic looking, always with dark hair, and the men usually with beards - dressed in a somewhat more ´trendy' way, the Israelies. Australians, Canadians, Americans and some Brits however, show very little in terms of features that distinguish them from one another - other than accent. Oh yeah, Irish too. Lot of Irish. There is a significant 'Irish' look, that does not often include ginger hair, but it does most assuredly include pale skin. These were the rules of thumb that I used (and still do) for assessing whiuch languae to greet people in. Not that I can speak any other languages, but I can modulate the speed and volume at which I speak to them, which is more or less the same thing as being fluent in a foreign tongue.

I also saw a couple who had just got married ideling around the pituresque square, they looked lost - odd.

My food arrived. It was, very much a guinea pig.

If you imagine a guinea pig diving head first, front legs tightly tucked to its side, and legs neatly together behind - with a chilli pepper in its mouth - hairless (so it resembless a rat even more) - then you can imagine my plate.
It was oven roasted, whole, with some of its entrails tasken out and replaced (a lot left in though). At the side there was fried potato slices and a stuffed Andean bell pepper.

Unsure where to start at this juncture, I opted for the place where I knew I would find purchase for my blunt cutlery, and meat - the leg. Cutting through the rubbery skin was difficult and tiresome, and just before I asked the waiter over for a sharper knife, he arrived and informed me that I was eating it all wrong.

You wern't supposed to use cutlery.

The meal quickly descended into a very aniumalistic affair, with me litterally tearing bits of skin off (which I was informed I was supposed to savour too) with my teeth, holding the desceased beast in my hands. After this, I would put the rest of the event similar to stripping a chicken carcas after all the big bits of meat have beenm taken off - i.e. it was slow and fiddly, and the meat quite oily.

The flavour is hard to describe. How much was attributable to the herbs and spices stuffed in it I am not sure, but it did have a distinct flavour. Not unpleasent by any stretch - I quite enjoyed the flavour... but even for me, it was a grim enjoyment I took in devouring the creature and spitting out the bones, as oppose to a delightful one - it took me the best part of an hour to eat the whole thing.

I will put some pictures up shortly, which I am sure my dear sister will enjoy.

Would I have it again? Possibly (it was expensive and I have eaten tastier foods) . Would I recommend it? Not to the squemish!

I thern settled back to my room to pack and have a quiet night before I started my Inca Jungle treck.

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