Russian Food

Most of Russia's food consists of beef, pork, potatoes, sour cream, cheese, and more potatoes. There are very few vegetables that the Russians have at a convenient and reasonable price. Since the climate is so harsh in the north it is difficult to grow many lush vegetables. They are also practically land-locked with no main shipping lanes, which makes import a hassle and very costly. The only vegetables they eat somewhat regularly are cabbage and cauliflower.

With these key facts in mind I chose to create a dish with pork, potatoes and mushrooms, a cauliflower casserole and strawberry custard (desserts are really the only dishes that fruit is found in).

First the custard was created since it had to set up in the refrigerator. I began by boiling about two cups of strawberries in four cups of water. After it started to boil, I simmered them for about fifteen minutes until the berries were thoroughly mushy. The aroma by this point was heavenly, yes it was just strawberries, but it smelt amazing.

Then I used a strainer to separate the flesh of the berries and the juice. After a bit of confusion of what to do with the meat, I placed it back into the juice. This seems silly, but in doing so I was able to make the meat of the berries into miniscule pieces while keeping the flavor.  It took a long time to thicken the custard, with many consultations with my mom and many "Is it almost done yet?" Finally with the extra cornstarch added and the heat on medium high for thirty minutes, it started to get slightly thicker. I took it off the heat and began my second dish.

The cauliflower was very simple in comparison to the rest of the meal. Simply cook the vegetable for five minutes in boiling water, make a cream sauce with soymilk, flour, margarine  and diary-free sour cream (one could use the "real" dairy if their diet permits). After the sauce was done and the cauliflower some-what cooked, I placed the vegetable in a baking dish and poured the sauce over the top, sprinkling with dairy-free shredded cheese. It was placed in the oven at four hundred degrees for about thirty minutes.

As the cauliflower went into the oven, the strawberry custard went into the fridge, and the pork chop dish was started. A light spraying of oil in a skillet and barely browning the potatoes was the beginning of the recipe. Then I set the potatoes aside and browned the pork chops for two minutes on each side. After the pork chops were browned about three table spoons of water was added and they cooked for ten minutes. After the time was up, the potatoes and mushrooms went in and the dish was cooked for ten more minutes. Finally, the sour cream (dairy-free) was added and the dish was supposedly done. But, the potatoes were still quite hard so I let it cook until it was soft.

The result was a delicious cauliflower casserole that was filling and creamy. The custard, to my surprise, set up beautifully and was an unusual delicious creamy dessert and mostly healthy (except for the extra sugar we added)! The pork chops tasted okay. I prefer shake-'n-bake and don't think it was worth the trouble. However, the potatoes were tasty. I served with a pitcher of peach tea, because tea is the most common drink in Russia. After two and a half hours in the kitchen, the result was overall impressive. However, the hardest dish was the least exciting. I would make everything again, except the pork chops. 

Lifestyles of Argentinians

Most of Argentineans are descendents from European immigrants. They brought with them the architectures, clothing, and traditions with them from Europe. In the large cities these immigrants merge the traditions of their ancestors with the customs of the local Indians, which over the years, have developed into a unique lifestyle.

Argentineans' occupations normally require them to arrive by nine A.M., sometimes later. They will work throughout the day until the lunch hour, where they will normally return home for lunch and rest, occasionally they will visit a local cafe. After they return to work, they may take breaks in the local cafe for a European custom of tea in the afternoon, or coffee. In the cafe, they will talk about various topics, art, music, sports - the favorite being soccer, or football - politics, and life as an Argentinean. Returning to work, they stay until seven pm or longer, sometimes they do not leave until ten P.M. Argentineans will eat an extremely late supper when they return from work. It is common to eat at a restaurant for dinner past twelve A.M. In fact, some restaurants do not even open until midnight.

The nightlife is when Argentina comes alive. It is very safe to travel in a large city like, Buenos Aries (the capital), until the wee hours of the morning. Most Argentineans do. They shop, eat, socialize, dance, listen to music, and sing in local cafes with friends and many other small activities out on the town. It is surprising to foreigners how Argentineans can run on such little sleep, but the slow breaks throughout the day help, and the mattè does not hurt.

Mattè is a caffeinated tea drunk from a gourd with a metal straw. The straw sifts the loose tealeaves so that the partaker does not get a mouthful of bitter leaves. This straw emits a loud slurping sound. Most of the time people drink the tea without sugar, however sometimes people will add a bit to cut down on the bitter flavor.

Mattè is something both the city people and the Indians have in common. There are few Indians left, only about twenty percent, but those live mostly in the rural parts of Argentina. Here they farm, ranch (as gauchos or cowboys), and try to retain some part of their distant history.

There has always been a tension between the European immigrants and the Indians.  There used to be riots and violent clashes that caused much heartbreak in Argentina. Now both groups of people recognize that they are different and that they need each other. They still try to keep their distance from one another and find the other's lifestyle odd, but violence has become less frequent.

Both the Indians and the immigrants’ lifestyles are fascinating with some allure. To live in the beautiful rural Argentina and tend the cows, feed alligators (like ducks), listen to the hawks, and live life sounds amazing. While the fast paced, and yet slow, life of the city dwelling Argentinean sounds interesting in its own right. The philosophical discussions over a cup of tea, the long nights out on the town listening to music and discussing what it means to live in Argentina sounds stimulating.

If I lived in Argentina I would not quite know what to choose, but I have a similar decision to make in America. As I am getting ready to go to college, do I want to pursue a life that entails the stimulating inspiring city, or the peaceful country? Nowhere is perfect, and maybe in our vast country there is a place where the two merge. If they do not yet, with a little changing of our personal customs maybe we could incorporate both. Slow down our hustle and bustle of everyday life; put away the cell phones for a minute. Sit next to someone at a coffee shop and talk to him or her. Really, talk. The first step in getting a community of people is talking, sharing, and stepping out of the comfort zone, even in a large city. That is what Argentina has most, community.

Folk, Rock and Tango!

Music in Argentinean has a verity of European influences. Due to the fact, most of Argentina's population is immigrants from Europe. It is common to hear an accordion in their folk music, a steel guitar in their rock, and a verity of instruments in their tangos.

Argentina's folk music is quite popular. Instead of the songs being about their loves in the past, most of them have to do with problems facing Argentina. One song comments on the large amount of homeless children, another on how life caries on after disastrous times, these songs make the listener think about their world. It also drives them to consider if the impact they are making is positive or negative.

As one can imagine, the rock music is quite different from the folk. Argentinean rock music was first developed and successful in the mid 1960s. It was the first Spanish speaking rock music to be a hit outside of its nation. The words are less poetic than the folk music, and the focus is given mostly to the instruments. Most of the bands are hard rock, steel guitars, heavy drums, and very loud. There are a few, however, that tend to lean toward soft rock. Fito Paez, is one of the most successful rock musicians. His music is a blend of soft rock and techno.

Opposed to rock music, which had a relatively new appearance on the scene, the tango has been around for much longer. The tango dwells on the heartache of the people, mainly love gone wrong. The dance is a key part of the tango, although people listen to tango without dancing. The dance is in a way a story, like a hula dance. The graceful, strong, yet sorrowful movements propel the heart into sadness. This art form is taught to generation after generation. The tango is a key part of Argentinean life.

The music of Argentina falls into those three main categorize. The success of the latter two have leaked out into the rest of the world and influenced the music that they listen to. The folk music leaks into the heart of listeners making them discern what needs to be done in their nation.

Asado

Argentinean food is the center of many gatherings. Their cuisine is what bonds them together. They will often have family members and friends over for an asado. Although, I have never participated in an asado I find the custom extremely interesting.

The group will gather in the afternoon and begin the asado by roasting sausages and small meats. The guests who offer to help will be politely, but firmly, denied.  The host is territorial over the grill - which is more like a large burning of coals with metal grates covering them up, sometimes stretching for several yards. The host will do all the roasting, which ends up being many in quantity and variety.

After the sausages are consumed, the next stage is other types of meat such as roasting beef (steak, tongue, udder, large hunks etc) and then they move onto pork. The roasting will go on for several hours, long into the night. The cooking times provide time for the stomach to rest and gear up for the next course.

A lovely sauce, that they put on the meat called "chimichurri", is made with parsley, garlic, olive oil and shallots.  It is very flavorful and fresh. And adds a perfect compliment to the meats or the salad and rice that is prepared by the women in an asado.

The asado is not just a time for people to come and eat together. It provides several hours of slowing down, not rushing to consume everything at ones. They talk about life and events while sitting over the fire roasting meats. They pick the bones of a rib while they sing a tango. They look at the stars as night falls, breathing in the aroma of steak and enjoy the time spent with their friends.

Although I have never participated in an asado, it inspires me to find ways to slow down life, enjoy the moment, and have a slab of steak. Perhaps, by sitting by the grill with my family and playing darts, talking about politics, or maybe just sitting. I encourage you to enjoy your family in new and peaceful ways. Perhaps, around the grill!

Music of Burundi

There is not a lot of information about Burundian music, however most of their music is very traditional and goes far back into their history.

The traditional music of a Burundian stems from the villages. After a hard day of labor, the family unit would gather and someone would play a traditional instrument. Sometimes they would pull out a flute or recorder made from wood or bones, other times drums made of stretched leather.

As the music would play a simple rhythmic tune, a whisper-like voice would come in and sing. Perhaps, they would sing familiar tunes or make up new ones. Sometimes the voice would not say any words, but contort their voice into new sounds.  The voice would rarely make it about a whisper adding a mysterious quality.

The music of Burundi sometimes discusses their violent pasts. The bloodshed, pain and horror that the musicians felt, reaches into anyone of the listeners hearts. They will also sing about their love for Burundi itself: the mountains, plains, animals and people. This too will give a connection between the composer and the listener.

Burundian villagers use music as one of their few forms of entertainment and relaxation. Even the most untalented at performing the music is able to enjoy and connect with it on a deeper level. It becomes a bridge between strangers, a bond that sometimes is deeper than one could imagine.

A Burundian's Meal

When studying Burundian food, a few things stood out to me. One was that they rarely eat meat. Because meat is so expensive and scarce, they may only eat it once or twice a month. If they are well off, they may be able to afford it once a week. Burundian’s derive most of their protein from beans, specifically kidney beans. This they eat daily, mostly paired with rice and maybe another kind of vegetable. I decided that I would try my hand at a vegetarian African meal that included kidney beans.

I made Makande soup, which is comprised of corn, kidney beans, coconut milk, and onion, seasoned with salt and pepper. Although, this seems overly simple and not extremely tasty I decided it was a great way to get a  glimpse of a Burundian's life. Since I used canned veggies and milk, I simply dumped all the ingredients in the pot and simmered for about thirty minutes. When it was finished cooking, I tasted it tentatively. Instead of the bland flavor I was expecting, it was tasty. A delicate flavor, but flavor nonetheless. The coconut milk added a slight creaminess, yet it was liquid. The different textures of the veggies made it interesting to eat and very colorful!

I paired the soup with a loaf of homemade French bread. I chose French, because Burundians cook lots of French food for the tourists. In addition, the natives have come to love French bread. In the city, if they can afford it, they pair it with every meal.

I also made some cooked carrots with brown sugar and butter, an African dish.

My family enjoyed the soup, and it was so very easy! My brother commented that he did not find it flavorful enough. He is one who enjoys spicy food immensely. Therefore, if your family eats mostly spicy dishes they may find the soup bland. However, eating foods from different cultures is not just about eating. It is about stepping into a new country’s culture and living as if they would for a brief second. No, I didn't cook over a campfire, yes I had a heater going, but when I sat down to the meal I could imagine how a Burundian family may be sitting down to the very same meal. It made me think about what it would be like to have kidney beans and rice everyday. The cultural experience I created in our bowls was more flavorful than any soup could be.

New York and Burundi

The author of Strength in What Remains explores the experience of a young Burundian man, fresh out of the violence of Burundi and thrust into the city life of New York. The young man recounts what life was like before the violence broke out in Burundi. He also tells the story of a New Yorker who is amidst the luxuries of America without a place to rest his head. 


Deo lived in a small village in the mountains of Burundi. When he was a young child he and his slightly older brother would make the long, over two mile, trek to a stream, where they would gather the water for the household’s use. They were careful to reach the water supply in the daylight hours to be able to avoid nests of tadpoles in the stream. Then, they would make the over two-mile trudge home carrying their heavy burdens. 


During the day, before Deo was of school age, he would help tend the cows that his family was blessed enough to have. The cows were what their lives depended on, without them they would starve. As a young child, he would tend the calves in the field, guiding them back into grazing pasture when they wandered. 


When Deo reached school age, his chores did not stop; however, with sacrifices from his parents he was able to attend school as well. In school, Deo was taught with vigorous discipline; severe punishment was the result of questions. If Deo was late because of the several mile walk up the mountains, he was beaten with a switch several times. Nonetheless, Deo enjoyed learning.

When Deo was school age, he noticed that classmates would stop attending school. Their seats would remain empty and he could hear through the pane-less window the sounds of a funeral by the graveyard. Deo had witnessed several of his classmates pass away, because of sickness (like malaria) or malnutrition.

Although there were many hardships that Deo faced, there were also comforts.  Family was an important part to a Burundian, the family unit was often tight and Deo had a loving family. His father was stern and his mother sometimes overly emotional, but he knew they both loved him and his siblings more than anything. His grandfather was someone who Deo looked up to all his life, even long after his grandfather had died.

After the chores were completed and darkness covered the Burundian village, Deo’s grandfather would pull out his flute and play traditional songs. Sometimes a neighbor would join in with the whisper-like singing and the night would be filled with peaceful music. Deo loved it most when his grandfather would tell them folktales. Often based off the events of the day, but the Grandfather’s imagination would stretch the story into something new and creative. 


In New York, Deo found himself on the lower end of the world. Even lower than when he was in Burundi growing up. Having only two hundred dollars when he escaped the massacres, Deo was homeless. He stayed in an abandoned building with other squatters. There he saw and heard unsavory sights. Prostitutes were, freely giving out what was precious in Burundi, sacred even, in public. Deo found it disgusting. Soon he could no longer take the thieves and prostitutes and decided to live in the newly discovered Central Park.

He moved about the park until he found a sleeping place that was not covered with urine, and the police would let him sleep. There he set claim as his and slept their night after night. 


Deo was confused by the world that surrounded him. In one world, it was posh, expensive, glitzy, and respectable and in another - the one he occupied - it was disgusting, poor, and the treatment was horrible. Doe worked as a grocery deliverer and was paid bellow minimum wage, barely enough to buy enough food to survive, let alone get shelter. 


When Deo was on his rounds, he would wait by the service entrance for several minutes before someone would come to collect the groceries to deliver to the costumer. The curriers treated Deo as if he were less than human, a creature without brain or heart. Deo was a non-person in New York. There was no respect given to him. 


He would ponder where he would rather live, New York or Burundi in peacetime. Every time he would come to the same conclusion that Burundi was the better option. In Burundi, they respected you as a person, you may have had an extremely hard life, abuse even, but at the end of the day you could gather, sing, and tell tales. You were a human. Even the cruel school teachers thought what they were doing was best for you. They thought by being beaten you would learn crucial skills. The Burundian people valued each other during peacetime. 


In New York, you were only valued if you had the right kind of clothes, spoke English well, had shelter over your head, and could afford decent food. This was not how Deo wanted to live. 


Deo looked at the graffiti on the subway walls, the sexually explicit words and pictures. He saw these as a cry from Harlem to the posh side of the city. Harlem wanted to be valued, they wanted help, they were living in two different worlds.  Deo preferred the third world.