Fish and oil are a meal. Just add fire.
I’ve been going through my photos of Bolivia and about 80% have something to do with food. I think my love of cooking and eating has taken over my trigger finger. This could also explain why once again I came home with jeans a bit snug and a ravenous appetite. Bolivians know how to feed their guests and I am a sucker for great hospitality.
The matriarch used most of that bottle of oil to fry these fish. When I asked her how often she gets to market, she told me she makes the six hour walk every other week. This fish fry was quite the gift to our group.
When we visited another Guarani community near Timboy, they prepared a min-meal for our meeting. It is fishing season, so there nets in the nearby river were overflowing — to the extent they prepared the gift both grilled and fried.
The second batch of fish were filleted and placed between layers of barbed wire fencing that had been modified to be used as a grill. Coals were prepped and the fish began to sizzle.
As the fish cooked, we met and discussed the community’s health needs. Before I knew it, the large table in the center of the meeting area was ready for the snack. No need for plates and hand-washing; just grab a handful of fish and corn from the table. Everyone!
What? You don’t want the grilled fish? Then how about a fried one?
Fried whole, mind you.
Whatever, lady. Your loss. Out of my way!
That just means more for us. Why don’t you and your “delicate stomach” wait for us in the car. And don’t even think about sneaking one of those protein bars. We can see you.
Tomorrow: the markets.
~K