Big Update (incl. first Francis File)

On Peace Corps Emergency Leave
One of the very best things I have developed during my short time here is lowered expectations. Like many locals, I expect a certain degree of ineptitude whenever I must deal with any body larger than 10 people (and maybe smaller than that). Punctual businessmen try to be 15 minutes early in case of traffic; let me urge potential and current volunteers to allow 24-36 hours when negotiating with a bureaucracy, adding more hours in accordance with size and distance of the organization.
I say this not out of anger, but out of a sincere desire to ease the experience of other PCVs. My mother called first me, then headquarters in DC, around 5 pm (10 am, Eastern time) on a Thursday to say that I needed to come home. I immediately got in touch with the domestic PC organization, who set about getting me a ticket home, before the head office allowed it. I am enormously grateful to them, because the first I heard of the situation through official channels was shortly after midnight that Saturday (5 pm, DC). At that point, I was less than an hour away from embarking on the 23-hour trip that traveling from my doorstep to JFK entails. I realize that a 31-hour gap may not sound like a major offense (and thankfully, it wasn’t), but in some cases, it will be the difference between life and death, and most frustrating of all, it needn’t have taken that long. So here is my advice.

1) If you know, keep your counterparts, et. al. informed of your situation. This will only help speed things along at your end.
2) Have enough money in your bank account to pay for a ticket home, or have the credit card number of some relative willing to finance it for you.
3) Have your US person call the PC more than once to make sure they are aware that you need to fly home. My mother got cut off, and though there are surely no other volunteers with my name in this country, there was that delay. The Peace Corps provides almost everything for us, but having the capabilities of a camel, it cannot always run with the speed of a horse.

Monday, 12th February, 2007

Francis File #1
Before I left home in September, my father asked me to tell about the new food that I encountered. I dutifully complied, but it is just now that I am feeding myself that the going gets interesting. Prior to independent living, I was only exposed to what host families and restaurants cooked. Fried meat, fried potatoes, and borsch (no T– that is only in Yiddish) of good and bad varieties. However, now that I am living alone, the culinary adventure begins, and so all reports on cuisine will be titled for m’da.
I have a nice apartment of good size, with a balcony and a television, but no refrigerator. How does one cook without a refrigerator? On a day-to-day basis. Thankfully, there is a cold snap at the moment (actually, I am not so thankful, but for these purposes, it is useful), and my balcony is doing double duty as a drier and a freezer. How does one bake without any temperature gauge on the oven? So far, I’ve just flouted the old rule about opening the oven door to check, and it’s worked, but it wouldn’t do for cake. (Be not afraid–I am promised both a refrigerator and an oven thermometer, but some volunteers live with neither.)
The other trick, for me, is learning what to do with all of these ingredients. Strana is bursting with natural goodness–grains, produce, fantastic bread–but heavens, how to put them together? I know that most people here cook and eat whole grains as porridge, but I only know how to make cream of wheat and oatmeal. Now, I have the dizzying additional options of millet, barley, and buckwheat, whatever this bodes.
As I’ve said before, living here is sometimes like traveling back in time, and this is one of the most obvious ways–the whole grains that are in such vogue in America are a normal and unsexy part of a daily diet. I can find all of these things within 100 yards of my apartment. And contrary to any nostalgia for simpler times, while these things are fantastic for you, it’s no great loss that some things have gone out. Buckwheat is frankly disgusting–both slimy and chewy. Ketchup certainly does make it better, but that isn’t saying much.
Anyway- this is not a local recipe, but one that I’ve been making pretty regularly. Amounts are at the cook’s discretion, but the first ingredient is the biggest portion, etc.

First Attempt at Salad
Chinese cabbage (or regular), shredded
Carrot, chopped
Onion, chopped (optional)
Feta cheese/brinza, crumbled (also optional)
Fresh ginger, diced

Mix together. Dress as you like. I follow the PC suggestions for honey mustard- equal parts sunflower oil and vinegar, smaller equal parts honey and mustard, a pinch of pepper and a pinch of salt.
Wednesday, 28th February, 2007

Francis File # 2: On Juices and Experiments
Although I consider myself to be a decent cook (for a 22 year old), I am well aware that I have nowhere near the knowledge of my father. And really, how could I? Instead of thirty something years of culinary experience, I have something closer to four. No comparison. All the same, due to years of helpful hints and little lessons, I am pretty comfortable in the kitchen, which is leading me to improvise. The PC cookbook is helpful, but frequently calls for way too many things I don’t want to buy. So I’ve started ‘making’ my own.
For starters, it’s important to know that in Strana, a lot of juices, which would be pretty exotic stateside, are run-of-the-mill. Of course there are apple, orange, grape and tomato, but here too are peach, plum, cherry, currant, raspberry, pineapple, pear, and many others. There is even pomegranate, which, though expensive, is not quite as costly as it is in the US. And, miraculously, none of these are produced by Freshwalla Company for rarefied children and conscientious parents.
Anyway– one of the very first dishes I learned to cook as a cranky malnourished sophomore was chicken in orange juice with mustard and brown sugar. It sounds a little odd, but it’s a good simple standby. Beginning to branch out, after my dismay at the number of recipes calling for breadcrumbs or more meat than I want, I went back to it and my current experiment is chicken in pear juice and chardonnay, with carrots, onions, garlic, mushrooms, thyme and ginger, along with millet. I would be better at this if I had a firmer grasp on the flavor of each herb, but in this field, I think trial-and-error is the best way to learn, if having your father call you away from your homework to give you pointers is not an option.
Conclusion: millet is an okay, but not great, substitute for couscous. Nice, but more zing required– perhaps marinade chicken first? (Already I sound more like him)
Saturday, 10th March, 2007