Hunger for Life

Culinary has always had a strong place in my life. I was born and raised in a country where people talk passionately and obsessively about food (and likewise eat it !!!) 24/7. During my own personal diaspora I’ve found compatriots from all walks of life in the weirdest places and circumstances. To avoid reenacting an internal conflict as bloody as the one that killed 70 thousand people in Peru, I learned that the safest thing is bringing food from our motherland to the conversation. And voilà, everyone shows a huge smile, new friends (or frenemies) in the making. We are what we eat. In fact, everything related to food –from preparation to consumption- has a deep cultural meaning. Peruvians pride on having the best cebiche in the world. In Pre-Hispanic times it was originally prepared with raw fish, chili and seaweed. Moorish women -the Catholic Monarchs’ spoils of war in Granada, who later accompanied Pizarro’s army to Peru- are credited for adding the juice of sour orange, then lemon, to the original recipe. Foreigners react with skepticism when told that the fish is “cooked” after marinating it. How come, they ask, as if we were trying to sell them a fake Rolex. Embrace this basic idea if you want to understand us. Now, if you become a cebiche lover, then we’re talking business: You can consider yourself an honorary Peruvian (a blessing and a curse). Recently a Peruvian writer aroused a heated debate that put his life at risk. He wrote Peruvian food is heavy and indigestible. Don’t be so honest if you’re traveling around there. When locals insist on feeding you –a token of love- with guinea pig, sheep's-head soup, beef heart or other delicatessens your palate refuse to experiment, just smile and say you’re a vegetarian. They will probably show the same expression of disbelief you had when they were talking you into trying those dishes. Eating meat means you have money. So why would anyone in their right mind admit loud to being a poor devil?