This is often either understood or said in many things that wouldn't even cause question in the US. Some things frustrate me, others, I think "Right on!" Point in case...purchasing meat. Unlike Kathmandu, I can't walk into a grocery store and buy some labeled frozen meat. One goes to the market, talks to a guy there and brings back some really bloody meat. Because I rent and live above Muslims, I have agreed to keep my house halal, which aside from a number of things means that when the animal my meat is taken from is killed, it has to be done in a particular way - similar as the Jewish custom. So, Dan has to go to the market and find my meat. I've been protein deprived and finally (I'm telling you, in this country there is always something that gets in the way of things being done) he brought me some ground buffalo meat - remember, this is what I made those amazing meatballs out of.
Today it was a chicken. I did specify that it be plucked and not cut - they cut chicken into unidentifiable parts, I wanted something that I knew what it was (aside from the obvious...chicken). Darla delivered it when she picked up the kids - I was delayed in taking them home because of yet another home improvement task that is being done. She said it's the first time she's ever felt fresh, warm, raw chicken. Hmmm, I was a little afraid to open the bag. But when I did it even appeared skinned. :) I started washing it off, neck was still attached, what about the other innards? As I cleaned out the cavity they fell out. Shweet. This isn't going to be so difficult. I removed the neck and put them and the other parts into a pot of water, added some onion, peppercorns and cilantro (didn't have parsley) and started boiling it to make a broth. Then I pulled out one of my trusty Pampered Chef knives (which I am so thankful to have) and started cutting up my chicken. I'm sure any US butcher would cringe and how I did it, but I got 2 wings, 2 breast and 2 legs, with extra meat on the end. I realize these are part of the thighs, but since I'm not a dark meat kind of gal...no actually, I wasn't sure how to cut the thigh. So, the part that was left also got dumped into the pot of water. I'll chop up that meat after it's cooked and make a chicken salad or something - don't worry, nothing goes to waste in this country.
I'm excited and have started pouring through my two international cookbooks looking for ideas of what to make. I think I want to do something Italian. I have lasagna noodles and mozzarella cheese and pasta/pizza sauce. So, I think I'll cook a noodle or two and roll them up with a spinach, buffalo meat and mozzarella cheese combo, smother it with some sauce and see how it turns out. The chicken is in the freezer, so I will find something for that another day.
Back to the never ending construction guys. Grr, they bothered me today. The come in, do some work, leave, don't say anything, rattle my door to get back in, borrow my flashlight, make a huge mess (which, they did at least semi sweep into a pile) and then leave again. I'm assuming they are at lunch, and start preparing mine. Before I can sit down to eat they are rattling my door again. I know there's a language barrier, but the bigger issue is the cultural barrier. It's harder than I let on and sometimes I never get what is really appropriate or when it is.
An example is the doorbell going off at 9 am...I wasn't expecting anyone, but it could be the milkman coming early. No, some guy down there in a jogging suit. Farhat is at the gate, looking at me and him, trying to figure out what's going on and if he should come up. The guy is saying something, but I'm not really understanding. I look at Farhat to see if she understands (not that she knows enough English, but at this point she would call her son or daughter to help out. But it appears that she doesn't understand either. I realize the guy is speaking English and that my friend had mentioned him to me. He'd overheard us talking about my looking at a gym and wanting to work out and get into shape. And he wanted to come up! Okay, I'm going to pretend that he doesn't know I live alone, because for him to ask to come up when it's only me here would be unthinkable, or at least it should be. I politely suggested we meet at my friend's internet cafe and so that's the plan. I'm not really sure what his plans are or how much $ he's expecting. I don't really want a male personal trainer.
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