“Things I Don’t Really Want to Eat Even Once” Day

We had rain during the night. Here, rain is commonly accompanied by power outages. We had two, but luckily, neither lasted more than a few minutes. Fahim, of course, sleeps right through it. I, of course, wake up.

When it rains here, it’s not the gentle rain that we’re used to in Canada. It’s not raining, and then all of a sudden, it’s raining sheets of water. Everything is soaked in a matter of seconds. The rain is so thick that, looking into the distance, everything appears pale, washed out. The rain also ends just as abruptly. It’s as if an on/off switch is used in the sky.

Two guys are painting the exterior walls of the house behind ours. It’s going to be a pale lime yellow with a pale blue for accents. It’s looking very attractive. One of our sudden torrential downpours start, and these poor guys hide under the eaves until it’s over. The rain here also doesn’t last long, so it’s probably not worth it for them to brave getting soaked to get inside the house. The rain is coming down at close to a 45 degree angle.

We had our front door open at the time - we get a better breeze going through the house, plus the cats can go outside if they like - and my laptop was about three feet inside the door. There’s also an overhang outside over the door - about a foot and a half. With the angle of the rain, my laptop - this laptop that I’m working on now - got soaked. Whole bunch of rain on it and around it.

Luckily, Fahim and I noticed it early enough that no damage was done. Whew!!

Lesson - never leave laptop near an open window. Bad. Very very bad.

Fahim and I went grocery shopping at the shops on the main street, and it started to rain again as we were walking. We had to cross the main road to get to Food City , and there was a fair bit of traffic coming from the one direction, one of the vehicles being an intercity bus. It stopped for us. Fahim’s comment - it’s only because I was there - they never would have stopped for him. Perhaps there are advantages to being a visible minority here?

And here’s a pic of the main road we live just off of. Yes, I am aware that that is a grammatically poorly constructed sentence, as is this one. Tough.

Shopping in Food City is starting to become commonplace. True, this is probably the second time I’ve been in it, but I’m getting used to things here. We buy a few items, including nail polish remover and tile and grout cleaner. Yes, I want clean grout in my bathroom. Didn’t you know I used to be an anal retentive accountant? Now I’m merely anal retentive . . . With no where to vent those tendencies . . . Gee, maybe my house will be clean now?????

Fahim and I decided to check out the beef shop a few doors down from Food City. Take a look at the picture, and that should really explain a whole bunch.

Yes, that really is beef hanging from hooks. I’ve never bought beef this way and neither has Fahim, although his mother probably has. But Fahim hasn’t had to do the grocery shopping in Sri Lanka before I got here - or at least, not on a consistent basis. Neither of us knows how to pick out good beef from something hanging off a hook with flies swarming on it.

Although in all fairness, there weren’t THAT many flies.

So he suggests we buy something that he can pick out - liver and brains.

Fahim claims that both are very good.

I’ve only ever had my mother’s shoeleather liver. I’m a little hesitant. Fahim convinces me that liver can be good and I ought to give it a try.

Why don’t I explain my mother’s liver first? She’d fry pieces about a half inch thick and whatever shape they were in, but usually about three or four inches sort of squarish. She’d fry them in oil with salt and pepper for seasoning until they were cooked. Because she wanted to make sure they were cooked, she really really made sure they were cooked.

I could have used them to patch the soles in my shoes.

OH MY GOODNESS the liver was tough and chewy.

My parents would dish out the liver - a minimum amount for each child. If we complained about anything, we’d get another piece. If we complained about getting another piece, we got another piece. And so on. And so on. And so on. We learned to shut up. And we’d cover it with ketchup - anything to kill the taste and make it sort of somewhat palatable. We’d end up eating more ketchup than liver. We did whatever we had to to choke it down cuz we weren’t allowed to leave the table until it was all gone. Ick.

So I told Fahim, fine, he can buy liver and brains, and I will try it, but I make no promises on liking it. Okay, fine, no problem. So we buy liver and brains.

This is really turning into a food day from hell.

There’s a pail and a pile of something that looked to me like sheep’s skin lying on the ground to the left of his doorway. That, apparently, is tripe, or beef’s stomach. And yes, the meat guy will sell it from the ground. The lady in front of us was considering buying some - asking prices, looking at it, whatever. Fahim says that the meat we bought was also probably on the ground at some point. Here, it’s assumed that you’ll wash it when you get home, so no one cares that it’s been on the ground. That’s just the way it is. Same as all the flies landing on the meat. Assume it’ll be washed before cooking it.

Okay, then. Good to know. I’ll make sure I always wash all my meat.

We next went to the Fresh Fruit and Vegetable Store. We decided to give it a try and find out if the produce was any cheaper than at Food City. They have green plastic bins filled with vegetables. The store is air conditioned, but other than that, the produce isn’t kept cool in any way. Well, in all fairness, it’ll probably all be gone by the end of the day anyway, so does it really matter? We buy a few things, including Bombay onions, eggplants that are purple and white variegated and four or five inches long, and another pineapple. There are all sorts of things here that I’ve never heard of, such as lady fingers and a bunch more things that I don’t remember what they’re called. This store, thank heavens, has cilantro, so I’ll be able to make my New Wave Garlic bread, provided I can find Sambal Oelik somewhere.

<<–Here’s one of Fahim in front of our house. We have the upper floor.

And here’s what the street we live on looks like. No, this is NOT a back alley, but an actual street.–>>

<<–And this is the view from our patio in the back of the house.–>>

 

As I’m putting our groceries away, a gecko crawls up the kitchen wall, and Fahim decides to pick this time to tell me we have a gecko infestation in that dreaded cupboard under the sink that I haven’t dared to look in yet. I used to think geckos were cute - but knowing that they could be shitting all over my dishes and counters?

Because the cow brain won’t keep as well as the liver, Fahim decides we’re having brains for lunch. Here’s the mad cook. I mean really, with a facial expression like that, would you trust him? He cleans them, cuts it into pieces, mixes it with spices - ie curry, pepper salt, and coconut oil. Then he cooks it. I also make a vegetable curry with leeks, tomatoes, chili peppers, garlic, and curry. We serve this with our ubiquitous pink rice and the mushroom pickle.

In all of this, I neglected to mention what our non-stick cooking utensil is - a coconut spoon. You can see it on the last picture. The bowl of the spoon is made from a coconut husk, and it’s nailed or stapled to some kind of wooden handle. This, I am told, is common here. Waste nothing. Works for me.

But back to the brains. I tried one piece (uh, tried. Couldn’t finish. Had to give Fahim the rest. I managed half a piece). The seasoning was good, but the flavor of the brain itself was kind of - huh, I can’t even think of any word that works other than odd. Different. Unusual. The texture? Smooth like paste, only creamier. For dead animal protein, this is odd. When I first tried sashimi (sushi with raw fish), I thought that was odd, but by the third time I ate it, I was okay with it and I was no longer grossed out. Will it be the same as with the brains?

The first time we went grocery shopping, there were melons in the produce department. They weren’t labelled as to what type - ie watermelon, honeydew, whatever, so thinking it would be something different than I’d had before, I conned Fahim into getting one - he doesn’t like melons and won’t eat them, and that also works for me. It was fairly small as you can see by the comparison to the pineapple. We get home, I slice into it, and guess what? It’s watermelon. These are as big as they get here.

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