Hearty Food of Poland

I was really surprised at how much I loved the Polish cuisine during our visit to the country. It's hard to put a finger on it, but I think it had to do with the simplicity, and of how relatable it is was with the dishes we have in North America. There is nothing exotic like what you might find in Asia, nor does it use hard-to-find foreign ingredients like an odd variety of potato from the Andes.

I feel like Poland takes ingredients that could be easily grown in the United States such as beets, cabbage, barley and potatoes, and uses them in a way that we would never consider. They are simple, cheap and nutritious ingredients.

Here's a list of foods and meals I ate while in Poland, along with a little commentary on each one.

Buckwheat groats.

Kasza gryczana z masłem (steamed buckwheat groats with butter). This was one of the most basic, but satisfying foods I ate. This savory dish only had three ingredients: buckwheat, butter and salt. Even before I stirred in the butter it had a buttery taste. Full of nutrition, inexpensive, flavorful, and basic. Just how I like it!

White borscht.

Żurek z kiełbasą i ziemniakami (white borscht with sausage and potatoes). Known in English as “white borscht,” this soup isn't at all like borscht made with beets. Instead it is a sour soup, made of either a fermented soup base, or in modern times to speed up the process, sour cream. The soup I had came with potatoes and sausage, which resembled the kielbasa found at stores in the States. I couldn't tell you what else was in it. The soup was good, but probably wouldn't get the vote for my favorite Polish dish. 

Cold beet (drinkable) soup.

Chłodnik (cold beet soup). Chłodnik is the Polish version of gazpacho. It is super easy to make at home with ingredients such as beets, radishes, pickles, garlic, dill, chives and kefir. As you can see, it is also extremely nutritious. When I was in Poland I only had this once, and it was blended up in a drink that came from a bottle at the store. If you love beets like I do, chłodnik will be pure heaven. If not, this dish may not be for you.

Beef roll in hunter's sauce, barley, and beet salad (in background).

Zraz w sosie myśliwskim (beef roll in hunter's sauce). When I ate this I felt as if I was eating meatloaf. Instead, it is a flattened patty mixed with spices and grated onion, and fried in oil. The hunter's sauce, from what I gather, commonly comes in a bag. After sauteeing carrots, bell pepper and mushrooms, pour on the hunter's sauce and let it simmer, then bring in the beef rolls and let it all simmer together. This dish is often served with groats and beetroot salad.

Jęczmienna (barley groats). This was served with the beef roll and hunter's sauce. It was very delicious and nutritious. I don't know why we haven't thought about serving barley as a side-dish in the United States.

Surówka z buraków (beetroot salad). When we think of salad in the United States, we usually think of lettuce, tomatoes, cucumbers and maybe cheese or croutons. But this dish of beetroot salad completely changed the way I think. It is extremely simple. Cooked beets, grated. Perhaps an apple, also grated, or an onion finely diced. Mix it all together with oil and salt. Of course, there are variations. This colorful salad is very nutritious and from what I could discern, it is very common in Poland.

Bagel vendor in Krakow.

Krakow-style bagels, which are slightly different than normal bagels. 

Obwarzanek krakowski (Kraków-style bagels). Okay, so this is technically not a bagel, but somewhat of a cross between a bagel and a pretzel. I will admit that as I ate this on a park bench in Kraków, I thought I was eating a bagel. Like the bagel, it originated in Kraków, and like the bagel, it is boiled before it is baked. We bought ours from a street cart. The obwarzanek had a chewy texture on the outside and was fluffy in the middle. It appeared topped with cheese before it was baked. Jenelle and I both enjoyed our filling snack, but agreed it wasn't as spectacular as we hoped it would be. We also agreed that if it were sold in the States, it would come with dipping sauce.

Clear beet soup.

Barszcz czerwony (clear beet soup). Just to be clear, I believe barszcz czerwony translates to any kind of beet soup or borscht. The kind of borscht I had while in Poland was the clear variety, meaning in had no chunks and was served in a cup like broth. I'm certainly not an expert, but I believe this borscht is cooked with soup bones and other vegetables, which are ultimately strained to give a clean texture. From what I understand, it is commonly served on Christmas Eve. The one time I drank it, it certainly had the red color, but not the strong beet taste that one would expect.

Potato pancake.

Placki ziemniaczane (potato pancake). This is a simple recipe consisting of grated potatoes, grated onions, an egg, possibly flour, salt and pepper. It is then fried (but not deep-fried) in oil and topped with sour cream. We ate this while sitting on a bench in Zakopane. It was very delicious, but also extremely greasy. I've made it once since returning home and it was equally tasty, but best eaten fresh. From what little I can glean, there is a debate in Poland as to whether it should be made with grated or mashed potatoes.

Zapienkanka, or open-faced sandwich. 

Zapienkanka (open-faced sandwiches). This has been a popular street food in Poland for many decades, but as for us, we only saw it in one place, and that was in the Old Jewish Quarter of Kraków. It is served on a sliced-halfwise baguette, topped with about any combination you can think of, but most typically with sautéed mushrooms and onions, smoked cheese and ketchup. The one I ate was very flavorful. It had smoked ham, cheese, cranberry sauce and crispy onions.

Pierogi.

Pierogi (dumplings). My first meal in Poland included pierogi ruskie, which were dumplings filled with a mashed potato-like substance, and topped with fried ham or bacon. It tasted good. I believed it would be one of many times I would eat it on our trip, but it turned out to be the only time. Pierogi is quite popular in Poland and arguably the most popular food there. Fillings vary and can include ground meat, cheese, mushrooms, cabbage and even an assortment of fruit.

Breaded chicken rolls with a creamy middle of herbs and melted sheep cheese. 

Oscypek (smoked cheese made of salted sheep milk). This tasty cheese is made in the Tatra Mountain region of Poland. There is a similar variety of it across the border into Slovakia. After it has been turned into cottage cheese and repeatedly rinsed in boiling water, it is pressed into a decorative spindle shape. It is then placed in brine for a couple days, followed by two weeks of being cured over hot smoke. Oscypek, along with other regional cheeses, are sold throughout Poland. We saw many being sold on the streets of Zakopane.

Panierowane roladki drobiowe (breaded chicken rolls). On the outside, these looked like croquettes, but in reality they were ovals of chicken. The inside of each had a small hollow space filled with oscypek cheese and herbs that oozed out when cut in half. It provided a very tasty meal.

Kwasnica, or sauerkraut soup.

Kwaśnica (sauerkraut soup). This is another dish that comes from the Tatra Mountains. It is traditionally made with mutton or pork. I ordered this at a Milk Bar in Zakopane. The broth had a smoky, but sour flavor to it. It is a simple dish using only a handful of ingredients: pork ribs, smoked bacon, sauerkraut, potatoes, onions and spices.

Lard spread on onion bread, served with pickled mushrooms and cucumbers.

Smalec (lard spread). I was pleasantly surprised by this concoction. With my meal I ordered lard spread, which they generously applied to my onion bread. They say that lard is the poor man's butter. This lard was flavored with bacon, garlic, onion and spices. It was served with pickled mushrooms and cucumbers, which complimented it well.

Hunter's stew.

Bigos (Hunter's Stew). This is a hearty stew that I learned to make several years before our trip to Poland. It contains pork (formerly venison), smoked bacon, sauerkraut, cabbage, mushrooms, and sausage. I was very much looking forward to eating it in Kraków, which I did in a small shop on Grodzka Street. I was not disappointed, but the stew tasted different from that which I made at home. It looked the same, but there was something divergent in the flavor, and I couldn't quite place my finger on it. It was likely using different sausage or meat, varieties found only in the mother country.

Kielbasa.

Kiełbasa (Polish sausage). I ate kiełbasa three times while I was in Poland. Twice it was thick, smoky and hearty, much different (and better) than what I see sold in the United States. This kind was served with a dollop of mustard or mayo, and with a roll, or “bun.” My favorite experience with this was the Blue Kiełbasa Van in Kraków. There was also another variety of kiełbasa that was softer and nearly identical in flavor and texture as the kind sold in the United States. This was the kind served in my bowl of white borscht soup (mentioned above).

Polish doughnuts.

Pączki (doughnuts). I am no expert on Polish doughnuts, but I wish I were! They are similar to jelly-filled doughnuts in the United States, but are slightly different. I couldn't tell you how. I only had the privilege of eating two during our brief stay. According to the internet, they are often filled with plum jam, petal jam, strawberry jam, blueberry jam or Bavarian cream, among many other flavors. The surface can be sprinkled with granulated sugar. I can say with confidence that my mouth is watering as I write this. ♠

The Blue Kiełbasa Van of Kraków

The sun is drawing to an end as long shadows are cast across the street. My wife and I leave our hotel on Józefa Sarego Street and walk along the border of the Kazimierz District, a walk that has become very familiar these last four days. I relish the moment, knowing it will be my last on this sidewalk. We cross beneath the train tracks and arrive at the corner of Grzegórzecka Street. I have one final wish while in Kraków, and that is to visit the blue kiełbasa van.

I read about it online. Some guy shows up every evening between 8:00 pm and 2:00 am in a blue Nysa van and grills up kiełbasa sausages. He's so popular that crowds line up to buy.

We arrive at the spot and as expected there is a short line for the savory links of meat. There, parked on the sidewalk, is the famous blue van. Nysa vans are a relic from the communist era in Poland. They were produced in the city of Nysa and production reached its peak in the late 1970's. When Poland became a democracy the demand for the Nysa began to plummet as the people preferred the safer and more efficient western cars.

An older man with a gray stubble beard and blue ball cap stands outside the van holding two skewers loaded with sausages over an open flame. Next to him are crates full of wood to stoke the fire. I notice that attached to the van is a retracted canopy he can pull out for shelter if it starts to rain. On this evening the skies are mostly clear.

On the window of the van a menu is posted. There are only five items: kielbasa and roll, 17 złoty; kielbasa (only), 15 złoty; orange drink, 5 złoty; tea, 5 złoty; and packaging (to go), 1 złoty. Of course, it's all in Polish, but I am able to understand.

I stand in line and watch the old man as he turns the skewers over the fire, the sausages sizzling and becoming darker. A younger guy moves in and out of the van, assisting the old man. I hear chatter among the people in front of me in line, and between the two kiełbasa men, and I understand none of it.

The line moves quickly and it doesn't take long before I'm at the front. In basic English (of which he understands), I point to the top menu item and say, “Kiełbasa and roll.” I give him 17 złoty and in return he places one perfectly charred kiełbasa onto a flimsy plate with a kaiser roll and a dollop of mustard.

A few feet away from the van stands a tall folding table with a wooden top and no chairs. With my new meal in-hand, I walk over to the table and begin to eat with six other strangers. This is a bizarre, but interesting experience. I don't know where anyone is from because no one is speaking. We all eat in silence.

With a plastic knife and fork I cut off a thick slice of kiełbasa and dip it into the mustard. It is still hot from the flames and very smokey. The outer edge is crispy and slightly tough, while the middle is thick and meaty, much more dense than the kiełbasa sausages sold in the States. I then follow it with a bite of bread.

I am hungry enough I have no problem finishing off the 8-inch long sausage. It is well worth all 17 złoty I paid for it. I now wish I would have bought the orange drink.

The sun has set and the lights of Krakow now illuminate the streets. A blue tram comes down the road and inside I see rows of weary travelers, heads down, waiting for their destination.

Jenelle and I have 20 złoty left and set out to find some ice cream or some other Polish treat. Tomorrow we will leave for good, so we need to spend what we have. It is a perfect ending to a pleasant stay in Kraków. ♠

A Sampling of Cambodian Cuisine

We arrived in Phnom Penh just before dusk and by the time we left the hotel to find dinner the streets were dark and a cloud burst had just erupted. With umbrellas overhead we walked and walked trying to find a place to eat, but most who were outdoors had already closed shop.

We finally found a place protected beneath a canopy and sat down to a menu. I will admit that my knowledge of Cambodian food was next to nothing. I glanced over my options and decided on a rice-porridge dish that included liver, heart, shrimp and cuttlefish. I felt it would be a great introduction. Jordan, on the other hand, played it safe and ordered a more conventional noodle dish. Our meal cost 34,000 riels.

I don't remember much about how the food tasted, but rather another incident that took place during our meal. Three young school kids came to our table, stood in front with their hands pressed together, apparently begging for money. This went on for two minutes until the owner shooed them away. Begging, I would learn, became a typical scene in Cambodia.

First meal in Phnom Penh.

Four days were all we had in the “Land of the Khmers,” and we wanted to make the most of it. That included a desire to sample as much food as possible. But I was soon to learn that there would be less learning of Cambodian cuisine (it all looked so similar and was indistinguishable from other Southeast Asian food with my untrained eye) and more enjoying the experience while eating it.

A similar scene unfolded the following evening. Now the rain had stopped and puddles of water sat in potholes, reflecting neon lights of the city. We spotted a restaurant across the road, and as we crossed we startled a large street rat.

The place was small and dingy, with buckets and a cooler stacked near the entrance. There was only one other table with guests. This truly was a hole-in-the-wall restaurant . . . and that was how I preferred it.

The food was good. I ordered the pork and noodle soup. Although it had a pleasing taste, I didn't know if it would have tasted any different than a pork and noodle soup from Vietnam or Thailand. The noodles were the thin angel hair kind. It had a couple slices of pork and three pork balls. There was a slice of carrot, as well as the usual handful of greens adorning a savory broth. But the thing that made the evening so memorable was the cockroach crawling on the wall next to us!

A dingy hole-in-the-wall restaurant. 

Pork and noodle soup.

Phnom Penh did not have the street food I thought it would. I expected something similar to Bangkok. Perhaps this was because we were there during monsoon season. But that's not to say there was no street food. We just found it in pockets.

We wandered around the street carts to assess our options. Alongside the many foods I did not know were two that stood out: deep fried frogs, and birds on a skewer. The frogs were not just the legs, but the whole body without the head. Two frogs adorned each skewer. The birds, on the other hand, came with the head, beak and everything else. We didn't buy either, but I would have if I had more time.

Instead I bought other meats on a skewer, and sweet rice wrapped up in a thin tortilla-like cover. We took our food in a little baggie to our hotel and took the elevator to the “sky bar.” We were the only ones there. I don't remember much about the food we ate, but rather of the view we had while we ate. Before us stood the jumbled cityscape of Phnom Penh with colorful roofs below and a birds-eye view of random skyscrapers. In the distance loomed heavy storm clouds that would soon burst in a downpour that would last all night long.

Frogs and birds on a skewer.

Dinner with a view!

We found this very refreshing sugar cane drink.

Speaking of our hotel (which was only $36 a night), it was one of the best I've ever stayed in. Not only did it have a nice view of the city, but a rooftop pool, four jacuzzis (all a different temperatures from cold to hot), and a piping hot sauna. They also had an excellent breakfast buffet. There was an ample selection of eggs, toast, pastries, salad, and noodle soup (kuyteav). An on-site chef with a very tall hat stood ready to customize the noodle soup.

My favorite, however, was bobor, a rice congee dish that is very popular in Cambodia. This was very similar to the porridge dish I had on my first night, but this one had a better savory broth with more garnishes to sprinkle on top. Bobor has a long history in Cambodia, dating back at least 1,000 years.

Kuyteav, a noodle soup often eaten for breakfast.

Bobor.

Garnishments for the bobor.

On our final night in Phnom Penh we went to the night market, which was located across the quay, near the Tonle Sap river. We walked through stalls selling shirts, purses, crafts and a thousand other items.

On the far end we came to the food court where aromatic stalls lined the perimeter. One thing that made this food court unique was that there were no tables and chairs. Instead, colorful mats were laid on the ground, each with its own basket of condiments.

Jordan and I ordered some food and sat on the ground like we were having a picnic. I don't know how common it is to eat on the floor, but I believe it is practiced throughout Southeast Asia.

I ordered the lort cha with beef, a stir-fry using short thick rice noodles topped with an egg. It was fried with garlic, bean sprouts and other greens, and was served on a bed of lettuce. The dish came with a small side of chili oil.

Afterward we ordered a plate of kebabs.  We chose what we wanted, and they deep-fried it for us.  I will admit that I didn't know what any of them were. One looked like an egg and another we guessed was tofu.

Lort cha with beef.

Deep-fried something on a skewer.

Reflecting back on that evening I can remember what the food looked like (probably because I took pictures), but not how it tasted. But I will forever remember the atmosphere⸺the night market, the mats on the floor, the mystique of being in a foreign land.

Shortly after finishing our meal they began rolling up the mats and setting up tables and chairs. My guess is that they did this for the evening influx, the chairs and tables being able to accommodate more people.

The other thing that made that evening memorable was the rain that began to fall shortly after we left the market. We had a mile-walk to reach our hotel. I used an umbrella, but Jordan chose to get soaked. We ended our time in Phnom Penh exactly how we began it⸺in the rain. ♠

Eating dinner at the night market in Phnom Penh, Cambodia.

Sampling the Peruvian Plate

Everywhere I travel in the world I make an effort to sample and learn of the local cuisine. A recent trip to Peru provided a smorgasbord of food that was diverse, healthy and ancient. Perhaps more famous for its Inca ruins and archeological wonders than its culinary allure, the Peruvian cuisine is largely undiscovered on the world stage. 

The food and cooking of Peru reflect a vast array of climates, as well as a variety of contact with other countries and cultures. This South American nation extends from the Pacific coast in the west to peaks that rise above 22,000 feet in the Andes Mountains to a lush rainforest in the Amazon jungle. 

From a historical point of view, Peruvian cuisine has been influenced by waves of immigrants from Europe, Asia and Africa. These influences coalesced with a rich diet already consumed by the Inca and other Indigenous groups.

I came to Peru with my daughter, Jenna, and everyday there was something new for us to try. Below I have made a list of nearly every dish, food or drink that we encountered that I felt was a part of the Peruvian culture.
 

Lomo Saltado.  If I were to pick one as the quintessential Peruvian dish, I would choose lomo saltado. It is colorful, tasty and simple. Like many other dishes, it has influences from around the world. It was first prepared by Chinese chefs living in Peru in the nineteenth century who decided to stir-fry marinated beef (brought from Spain) with onions and tomatoes. It is served with a side of rice and French fries (made from Peruvian potatoes). Lomo saltado is a dish that will probably never become world-famous like pizza or sushi, but it is one that I imagine is eaten often in many humble Peruvian homes.
 

Chicha Morada.  Chicha Morada is a non-alcoholic beverage made from purple corn, not to be confused with chicha de jora, a fermented drink, also known as corn beer. In addition to purple corn, it is boiled with pineapple rinds, quince, cinnamon, cloves and sweetened with sugar. It is cooled and served cold. This was a pre-Colombian drink, although I'm sure they used the ingredients they had at hand (cinnamon, for example, they did not have because it comes from southern Asia). Like so many other foods in Peru, purple corn is native to the Andes Mountains.
 

Emoliente.  This warm and comforting drink we found sold on the streets of Lima. The closest thing I can compare it to is apple cider, but with lots of herbs. The vendors at their carts usually had a large cauldron from which they cooked the beverage. The brew is cooked using barley, Andean horsetail, cat's claw, linseed, alfalfa, honey, quinoa and probably whatever else they want to use. The recipe can vary from person to person. It is claimed to have medicinal qualities that boost the digestive system and help with respiratory issues. For me it was very soothing.
 

Ceviche.  In Peru, ceviche is a very traditional dish that is prepared differently than it is in other countries. Extremely flavorful, it is powered with raw onions, peppers, hot sauce, and raw fish that marinates in lime juice. For texture it is served with both dry corn (cancha) and fresh corn. It is also served with slices of sweet potato. I enjoyed getting a bite with a chunk of fish, a dab of hot sauce, a slice of red onion and a piece of corn.
 

Sopa de trigo.  "Trigo" translates to wheat, corn, or more generalized, grain. However, in this situation it refers to barley. We ate this soup as a first course, but I'm sure historically it could have been used as a full meal. It is made with beef, barley and a variety of vegetables, including potato, carrot, zapallo squash, celery and parsley. There are plenty of varieties. Ours appeared puréed with the exception of potato chunks and a leafy green. From what I've read, sopa de trigo is not usually puréed.
 

Ají de Lizas con Pollo.  “Ají” pertains to the ají amarillo chili, which has its origins in the Andes Mountains. Although it appears red, it turns yellow when cooked. It is the base for many dishes and sauces. “Liza” is a reference to papa lisa, a tuber that also originates in the Andes. It looks like a speckled potato, but is yellow on the inside. Combining the ají with the papa lisa makes for a very yellow dish. When we ate it, we decided that it had a very “earthy” flavor that reminded us of beets.— The ají de lizas was served next to a scoop of rice and grilled chicken.
 

Picarones.  These are doughnuts made of sweet potatoes, covered in a molasses-like syrup. They are light, fluffy and crispy. We bought these from a street vendor in Lima. They were invented during the colonial period to replace buñuelos from Spain. As with many other dishes in South America, they substituted a local ingredient for something that was scarce. In this case it was sweet potatoes in place of flour.
 

Breakfast.  I will admit that I have no idea what the typical Peruvian eats for breakfast. But I do know that every morning we were served breakfast in our hotel, it was basically the same thing. To drink we were served fruit juice, warm milk, and some sort of tea such as chamomile. We were offered coffee but declined. In the middle of the table was a basket with four rolls, which were a cross between a baguette and a normal roll. There was also a plate of meat and cheese, a small bowl of jam, and balls of hard butter. The amount seemed perfect to make one meat and cheese sandwich, and one of jam.
 

Ají de Gallina.  This is a very delicious dish made yellow by using ají amarillo paste. Gallina is translated as “hen,” but any type of chicken breast will do. Other ingredients such as onion, garlic, pecans, Parmesan cheese, bread and evaporated milk are added to create a creamy stew. Ours was served over slices of boiled potato and next to a heap of rice and slices of tomato. For Jenna, this was her favorite dish she ate in Peru.
 

Alfajor.  This light and flaky confection is made of flour, honey and nuts. It was brought to Peru in the 1500's from Spain, who inherited it from the Moors, who inhabited parts of the Iberian Peninsula for nearly 800 years. The name is likely of Arabic origin. I'm sure there are several varieties, but the alfajores I've seen are like mini sandwiches, with a dulce de leche filling in the middle.
 

Alpaca a la Parilla.  Grilled alpaca. I will admit that this was the most disappointing food of the entire trip. Maybe I just got a bad serving. We were hungry and ate at a small restaurant in Ollantaytambo. It took them forever to get our food and we were the only customers. The steak was tough and had a unique taste to it. Not quite like a game animal, but similar. The texture was similar to that of a game animal—kind of chewy. It was also bland. Had to use lots of salt and pepper.
 

Anticuchos.  Anticuchos are the Peruvian version of kebabs. It is meat cooked on a skewer, and usually that meat is beef heart. It is Pre-Columbian, originating in the Andes. The name comes from the Quechua language. I thought they tasted pretty good and if I didn't know better I would have never guessed it was heart. I ate it with rocoto relleno on the side.
 

Rocoto.  Rocoto peppers grow in the cool, high landscapes of the Andes Mountains and are a bit more spicy than red bell peppers. Rocoto relleno (or stuffed rocoto) contains a filling of ground beef, garlic, onions, pepper, spices and whatever else the chef desires. It may be baked in the oven, although I think mine was battered and deep-fried.
 

Milhojas.  We found this pastry being sold at a street cart across the street from the Lima Peru Temple. It is made with several stacked layers of pastry puff, filled with dulce de leche and sprinkled with powdered sugar. We sat down on the grass and ate our delicious treat. Although milhojas originated in France, it is considered part of the cuisine in several other places including Spain, Peru and other Latin American countries.
 

Chaufa.  Chaufa is a fried rice dish that originated with the Chinese who settled in Peru in the nineteenth century. It is simple and inexpensive, usually consisting of rice, scallions, eggs, chicken and soy sauce. My experience eating chaufa was memorable. We ate it at a lone table off the side of a dirt road in the Peruvian Amazon, cooked by a lady named Dora. We enjoyed conversation and a glass of Coke while we ate our chaufa.
 

Inca Kola.  The national soda is undoubtedly Inca Kola. Interestingly, it was developed by a Brit who immigrated to Peru. Although it has a sweet fruity flavor similar to bubble gum, it is the lemon beebrush, native to South America, that gives the drink its unique flavor.
 

Pollo a la Brasa.  Probably my favorite thing I ate in Peru was Pollo a la brasa, or rotisserie chicken. It was tasty and tender. It was served with a mayonnaise sauce and ají verde chilli pepper sauces. The chicken is rubbed with spices and slowly cooked on a spit over coals or flame. Although you can find roasted chicken in many other countries, according to the internet, its roots are in Peru. I loved pollo asado in Spain with alioli sauce, but what I ate in Peru seemed to be a step up.
 

Sopa de Chuño.  Chuño is one of Peru's more fascinating specimens. It's a freeze-dried potato whose origins are in the high Andes of Peru and Bolivia. Traditionally the potatoes are spread on the ground where they are frozen by night and sun-dried by day. After a few days of this they are stepped on with bare feet. This allows for excess water to be squeezed out and detaches some of the peels so they come off easier. The drying process is repeated until all the water is gone. The dried potatoes are then rinsed in water and subsequently dried to create white chuño. If unwashed they are called black chuño.  

The final product can be stored for years and has been considered a staple in Andean cuisine. It can be ground into flour and used in soups, which is how I assume it was used in our dish. We ate it as a first course at San Blas Market in Cusco. I couldn't tell you everything that was in it, but it was very hardy, thick, and came with a couple chunks of potato and garnished with parsley.
 

Caldo de Gallina.  Throughout our two weeks in Peru I was eying one item that I saw on nearly every menu: caldo de gallina, or chicken broth. I knew it wasn't just broth because occasionally I would catch a glimpse of it and what I saw was a beautiful brothy, creamy, and hearty stew with a chunk of chicken and hard-boiled egg.⸺On our last night in Cusco I knew it was time to pull the trigger and see if it lived up to expectations. Well . . . they served it in a bowl where it looked as good as I'd hoped it would. In addition to the piece of chicken and hard-boiled egg, it came with spaghetti noodles and diced scallions. Everything tasted wonderful . . . except . . . that piece of chicken! Oh how I had high expectations for the chicken! I'm not even sure which part of the chicken it was, but either it had no meat, or the meat was so tough that it tasted like an old hen that can't lay eggs anymore and is slaughtered to eat (after all, gallina technically translates more specifically to “hen” instead of “chicken"). Oh, well. You can't win them all! Now I have an excuse to try it again or just make it at home. I think caldo de gallina has a lot of potential. ♠