Hamburgers are Home. And Colombian Hamburgers are Love.

There are comforts of home that one craves while traveling.  While I am often able to feel "at home" while on the road, I still fall victim to the cravings of my usual comfort foods, like pizza, tacos and the one thing that is as American as it gets, the hamburger.

While I often enjoy the different interpretations other countries have of things like pizza, I've been known to say that only the United States can make a proper hamburger.

Europe, I'm sorry.  I love you, and you've done my tastebuds proud in many, many ways.  Your bread is incomparable, your produce is divine... But stop trying to make American-style burgers.  You just can't.

Central America... Don't even try it.  I'm not even sure they use real meat in Costa Rica.  They called that stuff beef, but it tasted like bean paste.  Also, I've seen their cows.  I'm pretty sure you couldn't scrape enough meat for one burger from ten Costa Rican cows.  It's just sad.

I'd basically given up on foreign attempts at burgers before I came to Colombia.  But COLOMBIA.  You, Mi Amor, can make a burger.  It's not American in its style by any stretch of the imagination, but you won't want it to be.  You'll go back to the good old U.S. of A. and judge them because there are no crunchy potato sticks and they only use two or three types of sauce, which are all totally identifiable.

A Colombian burger consists of, from what I can tell, one or two thin patties of beef, a slice or two of cheese, lettuce, tomatoes, probably pickles, one or more optional forms of pork (bacon, ham and chorizo are all possibilities), a sauce that may or may not be mustard, other miscellaneous sauces (one source says pink sauce, pineapple sauce and aji sauce) crunchy potato sticks, sometimes onions, sometimes not (I prefer not).

Too big to fit in my mouth OR my arteries.  Oops!

The Colombian burger I had last night was a special creature of its own, like something that came directly from the annals of ThisIsWhyYoureFat.com:  Two beef patties, cheese, chorizo, ham (there might have been other meats, but I'm not even sure.  I could barely keep my eyes open after one bite.  I'm surprised I lived to write this blog post after eating that burger), lettuce, tomato, all the sauces and, of course, crunchy potato sticks.  I had no idea what was coming when I ordered this.  I just knew that a person from the United States had given me the unsolicited advice that if I had not eaten this burger yet, I had to do so immediately.

I mean, I'm not one to turn down unsolicited advice about food, unless it's from my doctor and pertains to cholesterol, and this is a decision I shockingly did not regret hours later, as my arteries did not, as I expected, shut down in my sleep last night.

In addition to the joy of killing yourself slowly with fatty meat, there is the additional pleasure of all the ingredients coming out the sides, onto your face, your hands, your clothing... pretty much everywhere.  This makes the burger a two-course meal, as you then get to eat all the pieces that did not make it into your mouth on the first go-around.

So, in summary, burgers in Colombia are a major win.  For your tastebuds, that is.  They're probably a pretty big loss for your heart's longevity and your waistline, but hey, at least you enjoyed your first heart while you had it, right?

Because, contrary to popular belief, I don't exclusively eat junk food when I travel, here's a post about Colombian fruits!

This is one of the prettier cups of mango and
papaya I bought in Cartagena.  I eventually
stopped photographing these and started just
eating them, like a normal person.

Junk food is great and all, and it's important to try the local junk food specialties when visiting a new place, but I'm a huge fan of fruits and vegetables as well.  Besides, fruit is basically nature's candy, right?

Colombian produce is beautiful.  Buying and cooking vegetables here is a pure joy, as is finding those special fruits that you just can't get anywhere at home (at least not without taking out a second mortgage on your home to pay for their "exotic" nature at your local Whole Paycheck or similar "Sell us your first born child in exchange for this single organic strawberry" type store that exists in the center of most major American cities and caters to yuppies)...

Some of the fruits are familiar.  Mango, sliced, in a cup, sometimes with papaya or watermelon, is a popular snack in the cities.  The gringo price is usually around $2,000 COP, now about $0.65, and once I got a guy in Medellin to sell it to me for $1,000 COP.  It might have been the greatest moment of my Medellin experience.  I try to convince myself that he thought my Spanish usage and accent were better than a typical tourist, but I think the more probable explanation is that he was just being nice.  (You'd probably agree with this if you heard me speak Spanish.)

It's hard to go wrong with mango, and, while I don't LOVE papaya, I ate it a lot in Guatemala with my host family, served with the seeds, which add an interesting peppery flavor that I am quite fond of.

Some of the less common fruits (at least for us deprived Americans) include the following:

Sapote (Zapote)

This is my favorite tropical fruit.  I was introduced to this five years ago when a friend in Guatemala

I am a sapote.  I don't look nearly as delicious as I taste, but eat
me anyway.  You won't regret it.

described it as a fruit that "tastes like sweet potato pie"... I bought my first one soon after, and ate them as often as I could find one at the appropriate ripeness.  A sapote is brown on the outside, and you determine its ripeness the same way you would an avocado.  You want it to be soft but not too soft.  It not only tastes like sweet potato pie, but also, if it has reached its perfect ripeness, it has the same texture as well.

I found out that they also have these in Colombia when a European guy with obvious taste bud deficiencies came up to me on the street and said, "I just bought this fruit and don't like it.  Do you want it?"  I answered with an obvious yes, and delved into the sheer joy of the sapote once again...

The fruit dish featured above features: some seriously awesome
large blackberries, strawberries, and uchuvas (the orange things).

They're hard to find in Guatape, but are among the things I look most forward to upon returning to city life!


Uchuvas

The uchuva is a member of the same family as the tomatillo, which was a completely unsurprising thing to read after tasting these weird little sour orange fruits.  I wouldn't call the uchuva a sweet fruit, but I definitely enjoyed a few of them in a dish with assorted berries, drizzled with arequipe (dulce de leche goodness) and sweetened condensed milk.  I guess that's kind of cheating, but don't hate.  You would have done the same (and if you wouldn't have done the same, I'm left wondering why we're even friends).


Dragonfruit

Dragonfruit. You can't see the awesome, bright yellow, spiny
outside that well in this picture, but you can imagine it (or look
it upon Google, because it's 2015).

I got one of these basically because they look cool.  That they are also delicious is a bonus.   The dragonfruit, which, according to Huffington Post, is quite good for you nutritionally, comes from a cactus.  You eat it by cutting it in half and scooping out the insides with a spoon.

The dragonfruit is also known in some places as the pitaya, but I personally prefer to eat something named after a dragon.  It makes me feel like more of a badass.

While this fruit is beautiful and delicious, it is neither as pretty
nor as delicious as the ice cream that bears its name (maracuya)!  

Maracuya


The maracuya, aka, passionfruit, is slightly more common to the American palate than the other three mentioned above, but I've never had one, and my desire to eat maracuya was inspired by ice cream, so I thought it should be on my list.

I have to warn you: fruit, while amazing, is not ice cream. Now that the disclaimer is out there, however, I will also admit that this is really good fruit. The weird seeds on the inside are encased in a skin (inside the shell) that has a bread-like texture.  I'm not sure if I'm actually supposed to be eating that part, but I don't care, because I like it.

So there.

Eat ALL the ice cream!!!

Because it's important to challenge yourself, and I'm in Guatape for awhile, and it's $0.50 per cone, I decided to eat every flavor of ice cream in one of the little shops near the square.

I've now come full circle, as there are no flavors left to try in this town.  Hopefully, I will be able to pick this up again elsewhere...

Here is a list of all the flavors I have tasted in the last two weeks:

Brownie.  This was pretty average.  Not bad, not great.  The brownie pieces were more like crumbs than chunks, and not particularly rich.  B-

Arequipe. (Colombian"dulce de leche").  Arequipe itself, in a jar or plastic container, is deadly.  Never try this because you won't be able to stop eating it.  The ice cream was just okay.  B

Chocolate.  Because chocolate.  It was rich, and decent, and satisfied a craving that day.  B

**Maracuya. This flavor reminded me of mango, but I knew it wasn't mango. I asked her the next day what it was and she said maracuya, which is passionfruit.  This was an amazing ice cream cone, and soon to be on my repeats list.  Also inspired me to try the actual fruit it is based on, which is pretty good, but not ice cream.  A+

Maracuya.  Hell yes!

Frutas Rojas.  I expected more from red fruits.  This flavor was completely and totally underwhelming.  C.

Caramelo. This was definitely one of the better flavors, but not the best.  Vanilla with swirls of caramel.  It's not like you can mess that up.  A.

Vainilla Mora. Cherry vanilla.  Good but not amazing.  B+

Ron Pasas.  Melissa ordered this one every time we got ice cream, so I was expecting it to be awesome.  As it turns out, Melissa just happens to like rum a hell of a lot more than I do.  It tastes too boozy for ice cream greatness, and the raisins were too bulky and not cold.  C-

Chocolate Almendras, with a view!

**Chocolate Almendras.  I saved the expensive ones until near the end of the experiment, because, generally, I am more likely to have $1,500 pesos in my pocket than $3,000 (which is still only about $0.95 at today's exchange rate).  This was definitely a "save the best for last" scenario.  The reason it's more expensive is because it's a Mimmo's brand flavor, and that's the good stuff around these parts.  For the record, chocolate almendras, in addition to meaning "ice cream greatness" also means vanilla ice cream with chocolate shavings and almond chunks.  A+

Nata.  This was also a Mimmo's flavor, so double the price, but unequivocally not worth the $0.95.  Nata basically means cream, and it kind of tasted like a lamer version of butterscotch to me.  My favorite thing about this cone was that some of the maracuya had been mixed in by accident.  I loved those bites.  D

Vainilla Mani.  This flavor was vanilla ice cream with teeny tiny bits of peanut in it.  For such an ordinary flavor it was mildly delicious. A pleasant surprise.  B+

Flavor profile, top to bottom: fresa, mandarina.  Also, look at
the pretty boats!

Mandarina.  This is basically orange ice cream, and it had a tiny hint of that kind of creamsicle fake orange taste that I happened to really enjoy as a child.  I ate this in a double cone with strawberry because I bought it from the expensive place that serves two flavors per cone, and also because I told Billy I'd get a double cone for him if he drank an extra beer for me.  #priorities. A.

Fresa.  Strawberry has never been my favorite ice cream flavor.  This one was pretty good, not amazing.  Tasted a little more fake than past strawberry ice creams I've had, but I enjoyed it anyway, unlike nata and frutas rojas.  B.

Not ice cream, but similar, delicious
and adorbs!

Having basically tried all this town has to offer in the ice cream department, I have two options: I can stop eating ice cream until I get to a new city (6 days), or I can just eat the chocolate almendras and maracuya until I explode.  Option B is the answer, obviously.  (You didn't honestly think I'd stop, did you?)

Bonus: coffee smoothie for $500 COP that I got with my pastry at a place called Donde Willy last weekend: Tiny, but delicious.  An A for coffee smoothie not quite ice cream effort, especially since she squirted the top with sweetened condensed milk!

A week from yesterday, I head back to Cartagena, where the goal is to find such deliciousness as sapote ice cream to take pictures of in front of scenery for my next blog post.  Until then, I'm going to go do some pushups and crunches to prepare for tomorrow's cone.  (Just kidding.  I'm gonna sit here and read my Facebook.  I had you there, though, didn't I?)

Colombian street food... The fried...

While some may find this hard to believe, as I have a reputation for food-related hedonism, I am not someone who eats deep-fried food.  It just doesn't end well most of the time.  Cue Paramore singing: "You are... the only exception..." and you have me singing along with her as I gaze lovingly at my delicious, delicious deep-fried Colombian food...

This picture was not taken sideways.  Don't ask
me why Blogger felt the need to post it this way
and not have an option to correct it.  Just know
that it was freaking amazing and let's leave it
at that.

My love affair with these oil saturated treats began in Playa Blanca, the beach near (ish) to Cartagena, when my friend and I ordered the arepas con huevo at a place on the beach where we had just purchased a tasty adult beverage in exchange for free use of chairs and shade all day.  I had tasted the arepa con huevo before, but not in all its straight-from-the-oil glory, drenched in hot sauce (as all savory foods ought to be).  From this moment, I was a changed woman, and I would not say no to fried Colombian goodness again. 

Get in my belly, fried meat with potatoes covered in local picante!

Since this life-altering moment, I have been making up for lost time with my estranged friend the deep-fryer.  I had to face facts.  The Colombians know how to do fried WAY better than the Americans.  Several days later, we were taking a long walk in the National Park, Parque Arvi, which is attained through an arduous (or awesome) journey composed of a Metro ride, then two separate, relatively long cable car rides over the city and then a forest, when, about 2 miles from the cable car station to a picnic area, we realized that we needed to be fed immediately.  Miraculously, after passing the children who were swimming in a creek next to the "No Nadar" ("No Swimming") sign, where the friendly Medellin policia also encouraged US to swim, we came upon a wonderful goddess of a woman with a sizzling fryer selling empanadas for $1.000 COP (about $0.33).  She also had a jar of Colombian picante (hot sauce), which is generally homemade and typically comes in a tupperware container or one which once held instant coffee.  At the moment I consumed it, this was the greatest thing that had been in my mouth since entering this country (and I have eaten mangoes that have made me swoon).  I don't care if you're a vegan, or your doctor tells you to stop eating meat and salt, lest you instantly die of a heart attack.  If you come to Colombia and don't eat an empanada, your life has been wasted.

(*Pro tip: The best empanadas are: 1. fresh from the fryer, and/or 2. from the places with a bunch of people waiting for them to come out of the fryer.  Otherwise, they've been sitting there all day, and may or may not be something you will come to regret an hour or two later.)

If these don't remind you of BK onion rings,
you had a very different childhood than I did.

 Now, I can't very well have this lengthy discussion on the merits of clogging one's arteries on deep fried Colombian foods without mentioning at least one non-savory option.  While I regrettably have not yet tried the fried coconut slices, I have twice enjoyed the immense pleasure of eating a bag of Colombian churros...

Now, I've had churros before, and you've probably had them, too.  But you haven't had THESE churros.  I think they may be putting crack in the fryer oil here or something, because these churros will make you see God.  I credit the fact that instead of very large pieces of dense dough, they make tiny pieces of dough that look something like a Burger King onion ring in size and shape.  In other ways, they are pretty much like the basic churro.  I think they might use some coconut oil in there, though, because the places where you buy them always smell vaguely of coconut.

If you don't order one of these, you will be sad.

 Like an empanada in its preparation, but larger and rounder, is the pastelito con pollo.  I guess they just make these in a different shape so they will be easier to identify, because, other than the fact that they are stuffed with shredded chicken instead of ground beef and potatoes, they are really not much different from the empanadas.  And by not much different, I mean, you will have to enter a 12 step program to stop eating these things if you stay in Colombia too long.  Just eat one.  You'll see what I mean.

Fried cheese bread.  Not my favorite, but that's not saying
much when it's all this good.

Last, and probably least, though my cheese-loving friends might be sad to hear this, was the buñuelo, a fried bread ball made with curd cheese. Don't get me wrong, it was good. And it probably would have been noticeably better with some picante, which was not present in the location where I ordered it. However, this was just fried bread in a land of fried meat pies. It's really hard to compete with that, and the buñuelo really doesn't. Now, put it up against some fried American nonsense I've tried, and you might see a different reaction from me...

The moral of the story is... If you're going to die of a diet-related heart attack, the most enjoyable way to do so is by eating in Colombia. Really. This stuff is good.

Buen provecho!

(*I apologize for the horrific formatting on this post.  Blogger is not the most user-friendly hosting site and will not accept any of my corrections to font size, justification, highlighting or photo orientation today...)

The time I ignored the people who told me the meal was too hot and lived to regret it...

So, I've been told I can be quite stubborn.

Typically, however, when someone looks into my pale white girl face and warns me about the spiciness level of the meal I am ordering, I shrug it off and ask them to go hotter.  Sometimes I sweat a little, but that's all in good fun.  I never regretted the decision, until that one day...

The introduction to this story would lead one to believe I am about to talk about the dinner I ate one night in Thailand, India, perhaps even Mexico... But this is not the case.  The meal was in Iceland.  At a Thai restaurant, but still.  (*When seeking a vegetable-packed meal at a restaurant in Europe where the traditional cuisine is not veggie-heavy, I generally seek an Asian place and order some kind of stir fry or curry.)

I was a non-believer when I walked into Ban Thai on Laugevegur in Reykjavik.  Authentic Thai in Iceland?  Please.  I chose the item that listed the most vegetables while containing the most chili peppers next to the item name and ordered it immediately.  Two to three staff members asked me if I was sure I wanted to order that item.  Of course! I assured them.  They probably didn't even have chili peppers on that cold little island...

The meal arrived, I took a bite and spontaneously combusted.  Or, so it felt like.  My mouth burned like the fire of a thousand suns, tears and sweat sucked out the tiny amount of moisture that remained in my body after the combustion, and I drank my water in a single gulp.  It felt like it took them about 10 years to refill that water, as I sucked on ice cubes and choked down another bite.  I think even my back was sweating at this point, but my pride would not let me quit.  I'd told them I wanted this meal (not to mention every restaurant meal in this country is the equivalent of a car payment in my own homeland).  Slowly, I sipped my beer, hoping the sugar would neutralize the Thai pepper I had accidentally eaten in my first two bites.  (I'd taken a ten minute break afterwards to pick out every other Thai pepper, but it still want not enough to make my mouth stop feeling like its thermal energy could power the city of Reykjavik.)

For 45 long minutes, my friends watched in gentle amusement/horror as I choked down Every. Last. Bite. of this nightmare of a meal.  I chewed ice cubes, I laughed, I cried.  Sweat poured down my reddened face.

Then I finished, smiled proudly, and paid my bill (enough to pay the annual wages of a Malaysian child in a clothing factory).

I'll never doubt you again, Iceland.  That was a meal I will not forget.

Local street food in Cartagena...

So, welcome to my first full day of temporarily residing in Colombia.  I decided today was a good day to sample the snacks/street food a little.  Of course, I cheated and started with pizza, because I was hungry, it was $0.75, and, hey, it's pizza.  My choices were ham and pineapple, so I went with the simple, South American classic pizza con jamon (as I had in Peru and Argentina years ago).  Nothing to write home about, but it was hot and cheesy and, as stated, $0.75 (2,000 COP)...

Pizza con jamon, consumed in a place that catered to locals
in the otherwise tourist-filled walled city.

Mango and watermelon fruit cup with at least
one whole mango in it.  This was pretty much
awesome.

A quite popular local item that every vendor in the city was trying to sell me this late morning/early afternoon was a "copa de frutas" (sliced fruit in a plastic cup).  That's pretty much a no-brainer at another $0.75, and it was so big I had to stuff myself to finish it.  What you see here is mango and watermelon (sandía), delicious and refreshing after 2 hours of stalking monkeys and walking the walled city in the blazing sun of their rainy season (which, so far, is decidedly less rainy than this month in Georgia has been).

This coastal version of the arepa, deep fried with an egg filling,
was my early evening snack today for a whopping 2,000 COP.

Last, but not least, I ate my first Colombian arepa today!  For those who don't know, an arepa is a round corn cake filled with things. In this case, I got one filled with (mostly) egg and chicken (huevo y pollo).  Everyone seemed worried when I doused it in hot sauce, but it really was not that spicy (I've taken the gamble and regretted it before, but not this time).  The price was, once again, about $0.75 (or a little less, depending on the exchange rate, which, according to where you get your money, can vary from 2,600 COP to 3000 COP).  From what I've read about the Colombian arepa, this fried version with egg filling is a coastal variant.  I've also watched them grill a similar concoction which is stuffed with cheese.  This will likely be my next street food experiment in Cartagena!

I think I just made myself hungry and need to go to dinner now!

As I prepare to set out on my next adventure...

Years ago, I created a blog here called "Random Stuff I Cook" to talk about things I cook at home that taste wonderful and amazing.  Now, as I prepare to travel South America for awhile, I've decided to create this spinoff to talk about things I eat while traveling that I would like to eat again, hopefully including cooking tips as well.

Stay tuned...