Bold and Broke in South America

As we gazed into each other’s eyes, there was an unmistakable spark of understanding before a pair of brown hands scooped her up and she was examined from head to toe. Her ginger hair glistened in the afternoon sun as the local Peruvian men fawned over her like moths to a flame. Her name was Maria and we first met in Cusco’s sticky, overcrowded Pisac Market. It was agreed we’d meet at a modest eatery at 6:00PM sharp; she was a guinea pig and she was to be my dinner.

A river of sweat cascaded down the forehead of the doughy chef as he scampered away with my soon-to-be-dead amigo. I felt a brief sting of remorse but this was soon replaced with ravenous hunger as the aromas began wafting into the open-air dining room.

The guinea pig, or cuy in Peru, is a luxurious delicacy reserved only for the most decadent of occasions. Since I had spent the past four days oozing blood, sweat and tears on the unforgiving Inca Trail, it seemed only appropriate.

To give you an idea of cuy’s reverence in the Andes, I took a stroll to the Cusco Cathedral of Santo Domingo where I found an ancient oil painting of the Last Supper. If you look closely, you’ll notice Jesus and the apostles indulging in a little cuy of their own.

The almighty clang of a majestic platter snapped me out of my afternoon reverie and I found myself again staring into the captivating eyes of Maria, only this time she looked crispy and quite dead. Despite my insatiable appetite, I had difficulty looking past her pointed fangs and menacing claws, but the glorious bouquet had me salivating like a rabid hound.

The guinea pig is served whole, and when cooked appears quite rodent-like so I decided to forgo any cutlery and approach it like one would a chicken wing. As my teeth cut through the flesh I instantly succumbed to ecstasy as the hot juices met my pining tongue. The taste bears shocking similarity to that of duck and I was so overwhelmed with delight that I inhaled the beast in mere minutes.

The locals favour a dark, toasty Cusqueña Negra to wash down the succulent creature, so I followed suit and sipped on the frosty beer as I tried to make sense of what I’d just done. A wise man once said, “One man’s trash is another man’s treasure.” Well I say: one man’s pet is another man’s lunch.