(First of Four Articles)

Some stories seem too bizarre to believe but this did happen to me. It was 1999. We were working as missionaries in the Philippines. Before I begin, I need to give you some basic background information.

We developed a livelihood program which helped impoverished churches support their pastors in extremely depressed communities. One of the products we trained the people to make was handmade paper from banana plant fibers.  Over the years the program became quite large and we had some beautiful products and the program achieved its goals.

To process these tough abaca fibers (a type of banana plant) into pulp, it requires several operations and one of them is cooking. We began small and cooked them over a wood fire in a small pot for three days. As the project began to grow, we needed a larger pot and that eventually led to a point where we needed to get serious about cooking large amounts of fibers. The best solution was a steam system and that meant a boiler.

A boiler. I knew nothing about boilers except that they are big, hot, expensive and they are found in Canada where they have 11 months of snow and one month of bad sledding.  But this California boy was “boiler-challenged.”  Where would one find a boiler in the Philippines? This is not exactly a country where central heat is a priority. We only had two seasons there, hot-humid and hot-wet.  A boiler right?!? Good luck finding that one! Did you ever have one of those things in your life that you felt silly asking God about? I was sure he was going to laugh.  So, I prayed, “Uh, God, this is Ed in the Philippines again. I know I am always asking for dumb stuff but I think I may have outdone myself this time. We need a boiler.”  Then I ducked.

This story gets crazy.  The associate missionary who was working with us at the time attended a small barrio church near us.  A Filipino banker was pastoring that church.  I have no idea how the subject came up but our associate mentioned to the pastor/banker that we were looking for a boiler.  I imagine he just said something like, “Brother Vern, I noticed that you need Bibles and windows in the building and your new Sunday school rooms are taking shape.  By the way, do you know where I can find a boiler?”  OK, I don’t know how the subject came up but it seems that the least likely person in the world to ask about a boiler is a pastor in a depressed area.  So, what did Vern say?  Are you ready for this?  He calmly looked at my associate and remarked, “I have a boiler and I could give it to you.”  I told you this story is going to get bizarre.

It gets better. It turns out that pastor Vern was not just a banker and a pastor, but he was also an entrepreneur. About ten years earlier he was approached by a Korean businessman who had a plan for an exciting new product that was going to sweep Korea and he needed a Filipino business partner to run the production side. It was much cheaper to set up a factory in the Philippines. The product was “liquid goat.”  No, that is not a typo.  Liquid goat!  The Korean wanted to use high-pressure steam to vaporize goats and turn them into this cool carbonated soft drink.  I still have trouble visualizing not just the process but the product. Can you imagine having some friends over on a hot summer afternoon for a barbeque and yanking some cool ones out of the ref, “Who wants a goat?”   Visualizing was not coming easy for me on this one but cultures are different.

From what I was able to understand the liquid goat industry didn’t exactly take off.  I could say, “Duh” at this point but that would not be kind so let me just say, “That is really too baaaaaaaad.”  Here is what happened. The two partners in goat proceeded to build a large building and then the Korean partner imported a huge stainless steel steam system with a boiler, large steam vessels, spinners and the other usual goat-vaporizing components.  It arrived from South Korea and they installed it and began the operation.

They bought a herd of goats and tossed them in into the big shiny stainless tanks and turned up the heat.  I know what you want to ask but don’t.  All I know is that the goats went into the tanks.  After the cooking, spinning, removing goat slop and filtering they then carbonated the stuff.  (Makes your mouth water, doesn’t it?)  Then the anticipated moment arrived.  They completed the first liquid goat soft drink.  Yep, they wiped the Manila sweat off their faces, sat down, looked at each other with hearts racing in anticipation, and then had the ultimate satisfaction of being the first to pop the lid and down the goat.  Then they just stared at each other.  And they stared. Was it satisfaction and the joy of accomplishment?  No, it was the realization that liquid goat was not very good.  Actually, it was horrible.  OK, now I can say it.  Duuuuuh!  Vern asked his new partner if he had ever had liquid goat before and the partner said, “No, it just seemed like it would work!”  They stared some more.

Since we can’t begin to imagine what goes through a person’s mind when they have their first frosty goat and when you experience the death of a vision in such a burst of blunt realization and heartburn, we will just the leave the rest of the story to your imagination and get on to the final part.

The Korean went home the next day. Let me say that one more time. The Korean boarded a plane in the morning, went home, and was never heard from again.  He vanished, disappeared, no phone calls, nada.  Vern, from what I can tell, was sad and happy at the same time. He was sad the business failed and he was happy the business failed.  I guess he didn’t want to be known as the man who cooked and carbonated goats.  So, he locked up the giant, glistening goat-liquefying facility, and got on with his life.

Ten years passed, and then one day he put his property up for sale. He found a buyer but they did not want the goat factory. (I can’t imagine why.)  I would have said, “Nice property Vern, but what really sold me was that great goat liquefaction factory.  Wow, how can I pass that up?”  But that is just me, the buyer wanted it gone.  What could Vern do with all that equipment?  Should he run an ad that said, “For sale, liquid goat factory?” It had been ten years since he had heard from his partner and now the place is sold and he has to move everything out in a few weeks.  So, at that very moment, with no idea how to find a way to get rid of all that equipment, this American missionary says to him, “Do you know where we can get a boiler?”

Two days later we toured the deserted food factory and saw not just a large boiler but large stainless cooking vessels and piping and motors and pumps and spinners and and and  and . . . We just stood there amazed with our mouths open and with perspiration dripping from our faces.  I am sure glad he didn’t offer us a goat.  The bottom line is that Vern visited our paper-making facility and loved the ministry.  He then donated the entire steam system to us.  And then, just as quickly as Vern had come into our lives, he died in a car accident two weeks later. I can’t help but smile when I think of the hug God gave Vern for his last generous act before he died. God has a way of rewarding his kids and I am so glad for Vern’s sake that he laid up treasure for himself in heaven and he didn’t delay in doing it.

Once again, my imagination takes me to a conversation, this time between Vern and God.  “Vern, well done. You have been a good and faithful servant. But I have one question for you.  What were you thinking?  — Liquid Goat?”

Almost overnight we had this incredible steam system and absolutely no idea how to install it or operate it. So, I prayed, “Hi God, it’s Ed again from the Philippines. Remember a few weeks ago when I asked for a boiler and then I ducked?  Well, as you know, we now have a complete steam system worth a gazillion dollars at our facility and I just wanted to thank you.  But if I can add a small addendum to the request we could sure use someone to help us set it up and show us how to use it.”   I ducked again.

Before we went to the mission field I did what many thought was a foolish thing.  I quit my secure job with the San Diego Fire Department and packed up my wife and five children and headed off to a Bible school in Canada.  While there for three years I studied the Bible and waited on God for directions. I also worked as a summer staff to help feed my family and in doing so I got to know many of the behind-the-scenes workers who kept the Bible school running. One of those people I met was a steam engineer who ran their two-story boiler that kept our classrooms warm when the temps dropped to 40 below zero.  Yes, 40 below.  That was fun.  Art was one of several steam engineers who worked there.  Now move ahead 20 years. I am standing in Manila looking at the large steam system we had just acquired and praying for help on what to do next.  Art came back to mind after all those years and I sent off an e-mail to the school and had no idea if he would remember one of the thousands of students and we had only briefly met. I had no idea if he still worked there.  I got an e-mail back from Art.  “Yes” and “yes” were the answers.

After a few more e-mails Art decided to use his vacation to come over and help us.  His church even helped with expenses and so Art, who had never left Canada, came to the Philippines.  It was his first out-of-country experience and what a treat it was to have him join us. He set up safety equipment, rebuilt parts and modified others, tested it all and hooked it up and then he trained us.  And he only mentioned the odd odor it had a few times. When Art left we had a fully functioning steam system and we were not afraid to use it. It worked flawlessly over the years and helped us cook tons of banana fibers and has helped keep impoverished churches alive.

One day in glory, I envision Vern, Art and myself sitting down together in heaven and having a nice cold goat together and laughing. I think we will all agree that the entire experience was unforgoatable!

PS: since that time, many years later, I came across an actual product of South Korea called Black Goat Tonic.  From what I have read the tonic is derived from a four-month-old goat that is boiled for 22 hours. The liquid is then filtered to remove the fats and sold in small bottles.

If you think drinking a carbonated liquid goat is weird, stay tuned.  The next three articles deal with food, but not just any food.  These will be the strangest, oddest and most fascinating things people eat around the world.

Dedication: I would like to dedicate this article to a special lady, Lucinda Tamayo, the wife of Vern.  When he died suddenly in 1999, she continued working with the poor in her church and today she is part of the leadership team of a vibrant Filipino church, the church Vern started.

The post The Frosty Goat: Strange Things People Eat appeared first on Traveling Archive.

Piranha I Caught in Peru’s Amazon. Eat ‘Em Before they Eat You, My Motto.

By Skip Kaltenheuser

Catching piranha is the ultimate fisherman’s no-brainer, though it does give one pause when taking a quick cooling-off swim in the same spot. The hardest part is hook removal. In the Amazon they use a hand-carved wooden phallus to pry open the mouth and hold the jaws open so one keeps one’s fingers.  It’s not the easiest image to get out of one’s mind. Here’s the occasion that took me there. The primary spice on my fish was a local pepper called Aji Pinguita, loosely translated to little monkey-dick, nine on the hotness schedule. The piranha were an interesting prelude to the quest that came after. We also ate varieties of catfish, of which there are a zillion species (at least over 1,300) in the Amazon, from armored ones that can waddle from one stream to another to ones big enough to swallow a small pig to the dreaded 5 mm candiru.

101 Things To Do with Cockroaches

By Ed Landry

I am thinking of a filthy, disgusting creature that wasn’t invited into your home and just won’t go away.  No, this is not a lawyer joke nor am I thinking about your uncle.  Because of the types of places I have gone, particularly third world destinations, war torn countries and disaster sites, I have come to expect cockroaches to be one of my traveling companions or at least my welcoming party. But at least let me begin with some good news. There are no cockroaches in Antarctica. If I come up with anything else I will let you know.

Rattlesnake

By Richard Carroll

I was on assignment in Northern Arizona and booked at a hotel where a Native American Executive Chef was working. A confused Rattlesnake slipped into the kitchen and met his demise. A small piece of grilled rattler tasted like chewy chicken. I felt sorry for the snake and for sure that was my first and last snake tasting experience.

Fried Grasshoppers – Cooked to Perfection

By Ed Boitano

For me, traveling to a destination is to immerse myself in the local culture. This includes, of course, sampling regional cuisine. On a recent press trip to Mexico City, I stumbled upon a restaurant that specialized in pre-Columbian food items. When I saw the Aztec dish of Fried Grasshoppers on the menu, I knew it was to be a match made in happen. Yes, they were crunchy, but also a strong source of protein. Slipping them into a tortilla, slathered with guacamole (the avocado also from Mexico) and a little salsa, made my dining experience a delightful pleasure. And, of course, everyone at my table wanted a taste of the critters before their transition into the tortilla. It proved to be nice moment of bonding with my fellow travelers.

Guiambo or Jambo (Okra Soup)

By Richard Frisbie

Its base is the typical combination of pork and beef broth served to locals in Curacao, with shrimp and some fish added, then thickened to an almost mucous consistency with lots of okra. My table companions turned their noses up at the delightfully fragrant bowl of soup because it was a thick as honey and stickier. It looked most unappetizing. I learned that to eat it, the trick was to rotate my spoon in circles on the viscous surface, slowly raising it to break the bonds of the slimy, clingy liquid. Still, strings like melted mozzarella on a pizza slice stretched with the spoon to my mouth in a sticky web bursting with flavor. If the okra soup wasn’t so good I wouldn’t have worked so messily hard to finish it.

Fried Bees

By Fyllis Hockman

Fried bees are a delicacy in China but I was still surprised to find a plate of them on our banquet table. Having already tasted duck feet webbing and grimaced at some jellyfish, I figured how bad can a fried bee be. But when I picked one up with my chopsticks, I demurred. I just couldn’t bring myself to eat something with whom I had just made eye contact. I blinked first….

A Simple Bowl of Soup in Beijing

By James Boitano

This is not the strangest food I’ve ever encountered on a trip. I’ve had snake in China, whale in the Faroe Islands and kangaroo and crocodile in Australia. But none of those were actually that exotic tasting. But one of the most surprising things I ate earlier this year was a simple bowl of soup noodles in Beijing. I was on a 10 hour layover there and decided to take a city tour of the Forbidden City. Arriving at 5:00 am from an overnight flight from Kazakstan, I spent the next five hours on a tour of the city. By late morning I was exhausted and most of all famished. The tour included a ‘traditional Chinese breakfast.’ I was ecstatic when I found out it was one of my favorite things: soup noodles.  I was led into a modest traditional restaurant where I was the only foreigner and the guide helped me order a traditional bowl of noodles.  Ready to savor the meaty broth and thick satisfying noodles, I tucked in… and it was tasteless. It tasted exactly as if you added boiling water to top ramen without the flavoring packet: limp noodles in hot water. I tried to add some spice to get some flavoring out of it but was admonished by the guide. No, we do not eat spicy for breakfast. I gave up after that, and thought I’d settle for tea. Oh, no, my guide told me. We do not drink tea for breakfast. So what did they have? A sprite. I know, I know: I was just another barbarian visiting the Imperial City. The city’s tastes were obviously much too refined for me.

Pickled Grasshoppers & Beetles Snack

By Raoul Pascual

When I was still in the Philippines, we had a friend who came from the Ilocus region (which is the northern most part of the Philippines). The Ilocanos (as they are called) are known for their industrious spirit and frugality. They survive even the worst drought. It is no surprise that they have this delicacy. I had never heard of it. One day our Ilocano friend received a gift from home – a jar of black juice with insects swimming inside. When I asked what it was, she readily handed me a soft, fermented grasshopper. The soup had the consistency of dirty water on its early evolutionary stage to becoming oil so it had the darkness of used motor engine oil. It smelled awful like soaked forgotten socks but my friend was excited to see me taste her favorite snack so how could I refuse? I took a bite and ripped its crunchy head off. It tasted like mowed grass dipped in a sewer. It wasn’t spicy – so there was nothing to deaden the taste. It was simply repugnant. I chewed it a couple of times hoping there would be a redeeming flavor in the mix. None came. I imagined its tiny antlers and little legs scurrying excitedly at their new home. I retched it out. My friend laughed. I had to gargle. Worst food in the planet.

Pizza Napoletana: Naples’ Gift to the World

By Ringo Boitano

My dream was about to become a reality. Based in Los Angeles, I was used to taunts from my otherwise wonderful East Coast friends, who were never shy about battering me with people in Southern California don’t know what REAL pizza is. Though I had eaten my way through New York, Boston and Philly in the past and had sampled their delicious pies – I would ask my friends countless times why it was a REAL pizza and others were not. The standard reply was It’s just better.

Now, as I stood on the shores of Naples, I was about to experience the real REAL THING. I had prepared myself with plenty of research for this sacred occasion. The word pizza was first documented in AD 997. Baker Raffaele Esposito from Naples is often given credit for creating the first such pizza pie. Unlike the wealthy minority, Neapolitans required inexpensive food that could be consumed quickly. Pizza, sold by street vendors or informal restaurants, met this need. The early pizzas (known to the world as Pizza Napoletana) consumed by Naples’ poor were prepared with simple and fresh ingredients: a basic dough, San Marzano tomatoes, grown in the volcanic soil of Mount Vesuvius, a splash of olive oil and some salt with no cheese, basil and fancy toppings. The pie was then baked in a wood-burning oven made of volcanic stones from Mount Vesuvius.

Hot Goat Meat of Andhra Pradesh, India

By Ed Landry

My friend and I really love hot food. It was 1987 and we were on assignment in Southern India with a group called The Bible League. We had visited remote villages in the interior and had returned to Andhra Pradesh and needed a rest. This particular region of India has the reputation of having the spiciest and most deadly cuisine on the continent. Dog and I (yes, his nickname is “Dog”) were looking forward to a good meal. We needed a break from the village food, especially the rancid Ghee we ate sitting on dirt floors with cats crawling on our food. By the way, Ghee, when it is fresh, is clarified butter but Indian Ghee that has aged in the heat for years sitting open on a shelf has the flavor and texture of dog vomit so we were ready for a change of diet. It was good to get back into a city.

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