Writing With My Mouth Full

Day 1: Getting from Bogotá to El Cocuy, Colombia

Our connecting flight in Fort Lauderdale was delayed a couple of hours because of a snowstorm in the northeast, but we managed to get in Bogotá, Colombia before sunset. Señor Samuel was holding up a piece of paper with our names on it as soon as we exited the El Dorado Airport Customs. He was hired by my friend Evelyn’s aunt to pick us up from the airport and drive us around because we had a few errands to run before catching the 6:30pm bus to El Cocuy. He had planned our routes accordingly to put us back on schedule. Minus the part when he locked us all out of the car by leaving his keys in the ignition, he was a really good driver and guide. [Insert nervous laugh here.]

Our first stop was the bus terminal where Evelyn’s aunt arranged for our bus tickets to El Cocuy. Señor Samuel knew we still had errands to run but because we were pressed for time, he talked to the bus conductor to see where the next stop would be so we could meet the bus there instead of boarding from the main terminal. We tried to ignore that the conductor was holding a bottle of rum and only had one working eye; we wanted him to allow us to be picked up from another stop so we were in our best behavior when the two men reached an agreement and exchanged phone numbers.

Our next stop was at 104 Art Suites Hotel in Bogotá. We weren’t scheduled to check-in until four days later, but I had arranged to drop off our non-hiking luggage in the hotel for safekeeping until we were done with our trek. Then we stopped by the hiking store in the neighborhood. Because gas tanks are not allowed on any flights, I found the closest camping store to make sure they had the tank that would match our stoves. Everything seemed like a match online when I was researching in New York, but unfortunately, the thing that had to connect to the other thing wouldn’t, so we had to leave the store without any camping gas.

We didn’t have the time to try another store or buy a whole new expensive stove system we may never use again, so we decided to just go for it and try to survive with cold food for the next three days. The Dr. had no idea that he was participating in a very Filipino attitude of Bahala Na at the time. We just didn’t have the time to sulk about one mishap.

For the next thirty minutes, Señor Samuel zig-zagged through traffic to meet our bus at the next stop. He dropped us off at a mall so we can buy food to eat in the bus–Go Frisby!–and then walked us to the street where the bus was to stop. As soon as the clock hit 7:30pm, the bus pulled up with two empty seats in front. You’re the guys from the terminal? the driver asked us in Spanish. We said yes and he loaded our backpacks under the bus and led us to our seats. We paid Señor Samuel his fee and thanked him profusely for helping us with everything we had to do in the span of three hours before we boarded the bus, so we were a little touched when he suddenly showed up standing in our aisle: he quickly got on the bus just to make sure we were comfortable in our seats. He wanted to say good-bye one more time and he wanted to let us know that the driver will let us off in El Cocuy twelve hours later.

We left our New York City apartment at 2am that day and almost eighteen hours later, we were on our way to El Cocuy, Colombia, our home away from home for the next three days. The bus ride was uneventful but much more comfortable than our economy seats on the plane from the United States. It made a few stops for the driver to take a break and for the passengers to pee, and only one of them involved gun-toting camouflaged soldiers ordering all the men to get off for inspection. It was only when a rooster that had been sitting in a box on the seat in front of us crowed that we knew we had made it. The sun was starting to rise and it was time to get off.

We were disoriented when we got off the bus. We slept some, but no sleep on a bus can beat sleep on your firm mattress at home. There was some action in the center of town and it was obvious that people had just started their mornings. I opened my Lonely Planet Guide and picked out the editor’s favorite hostel in town. We walked about three blocks uphill and knocked at La Posada Del Molino. A guy let us in after we inquired for vacancy. He pointed to the stage and sound system set up outside the hostel and warned us that it gets loud at night because of the holiday festivities, but we were in no mood to find another hostel. We just wanted to put down our backpacks and catch up on real sleep.

Six hours later, we changed and sat in the courtyard to order some lunch. We were quite disappointed that there was no hot water in the shower as advertised, but we were in no position to complain as we would have to live without showering for the next three days anyway. We were famished and we easily devoured the vegetable soup and the beef plate that came with salad, corn and rice that was served to us by the kitchen staff. It was about sixty degrees, warmer than the temperature in New York City, but there was still a chill in the air. We have been in Colombia for less than 24 hours and we were already up 9,000 feet.

After lunch, we decided to walk around town and take care of the remaining logistics for our hike. We stopped by the Parque Nacional Natural (PNN) El Cocuy Headquarters on Calle 8 No 4-74 to check-in, finalize our route and pick-up a map. We also went to the offices of the two bus companies that run the Bogotá-El Cocuy route, Libertador and Concorde, to check if their buses were running on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. The clerks in both offices couldn’t answer our question, so we put a deposit for a temporarily scheduled December 24th departure and planned to hike down the morning of.

With most of our tasks taken care off–there were no camping stores in El Cocuy so we were still sans stove–we walked around town to check out the scene. We visualized our hiking route using the diorama in the park. We paid our respects and visited the town church and we spent a few quiet minutes in the cemetery. We bought a kebab and an arepa-like patty filled with ham and cheese from two street vendors and we drank our first Colombian beer. Most of the locals were wearing the ubiquitous wool shawl; the men completed their looks with fedoras. Time was slower in El Cocuy and we were still trying to pace ourselves down and absorb our new surroundings.

Tassimo Home Brewing System

Imagine my delight when I saw a big box on my chair after being out of the office for two weeks. My co-workers gathered around to watch me unpack the Tassimo Home Brewing System from Kraft Foods. I had the public relations agency specifically send me a sample to test at work where coffee connoisseur wannabes can help me evaluate the cute little machine made by Bosch. We already have a Keurig machine set up in the kitchen, so we set the Tassimo up in one of the designers’ cubicle to schedule coffee breaks and tea times during our regular work hours.

The Tassimo was easy to set up. After following the instructions to clean, we started to make our coffees and teas. Throughout the first day of testing, co-workers came up to make their own cups. The following are the pros from several testers:

1. I like that it has a sensor to stop brewing if you move the cup.
2. Convenient. I don’t have to drive to get my coffee in the middle of the day. (We are, after all, testing in a Connecticut office.)
3. Easy clean-up.
4. Making coffee is quicker than going downstairs to the cafeteria!

But for such a compact machine, the Tassimo is pretty loud. It did help with advertising it to the rest of the office because a few of them stopped by to check out the whirring noise that was coming out of the cubicle. The button that starts the quick brewing process looks like a dial, so all the testers kept trying to turn it to skip a step ahead, i.e., to add more water. The designers asked why the buttons couldn’t be separated and labeled clearly.

We were also sent several samples of the beverages: Starbucks, Espresso, milk for latte and cappuccino and Chai. Each came in small pods with a barcode. The Tassimo reads the barcode and magically knows what to do with it. We all loved that when you put the milk pod, it knows to make it frothy for cappuccino, but some worried if they have to waste and throw a pod if the machine deems it unreadable for one reason or another.

For the Starbucks fans in the office, they thought the coffee brewed up nice and strong. For deli coffee fans, they had to re-brew just to add more water to it because it was too black. A couple of people didn’t like the idea that the milk came in the pods. Although convenient, they didn’t like that they could be sitting on a shelf for a long time. For those who like their coffee with only a little milk, they wanted a button to stop the machine from processing the entire milk pod. But what to do with the leftover milk? They deemed a pod a waste if only one user can process the milk at a time.

On Amazon.com, a box of twelve pods is retailing for $21 which means a cup of coffee is less than $2, but there was a also big concern about the waste of plastic that the pods use even if you use your own mug to brew your coffee.

Overall, the Tassimo Home Brewing System is affordable, compact and convenient, but it could use some design tweaks to make it easier for people to operate without having to pour over the manual. You, as the coffee drinker, should just decide whether you like the taste of the coffee and tea it brews.

Pork Tomatillo Soup

As much as I would like to take credit for this very satisfying soup, I’m unable to because I recreated it from memory after the Dr. made it this winter. I remember walking in his apartment and saying that his place smelled like Taco Mix, the taco stand in his neighborhood. Apparently, it was the best compliment I could have given because he was trying to make a Mexican soup he saw in Anthony Bourdain’s latest Mexico City episode. He replayed the show for me and all he could figure out was that the soup they were served for breakfast was green. The Dr. imagined a whole pork carnitas taco in soup form, so he went to work and boiled down pork with tomatillos, cilantro and lime juice. The finished product was so good, I could not help but ask for a third serving. When we came back from Colombia and I was lamenting about the cold weather, I made it myself. Funny how sometimes a snapshot from a TV show is enough to inspire you to cook.

Ingredients:
1 medium-sized pork picnic
12 tomatillos, peeled from husks and quartered
2 bunches cilantro, thoroughly washed
2 Scotch bonnet peppers, halved, seeds removed
1 red onion, quartered
3 cloves of garlic, minced
juice from 4 limes
salt

1. In a large stockpot, boil the pork picnic in enough water to keep it submerged. Add a generous amount of salt. When impurities float to the top, remove and discard. Lower the heat down to medium-low.
2. Add the rest of the ingredients to the pot and simmer, covered, for about 2 hours. Using a ladle strainer, try to get as much of the solids and transfer to a food processor. Purée and transfer back to the pot.
3. Cook for another hour or until pork is falling apart. Season with salt and lime juice to taste. It should be a good balance of saltiness and sourness. Serve with rice.

Where to eat in New Orleans, Louisiana: Cochon

Cochon is French for my favorite animal in the world and its menu–and decor–had my name all over it, but sadly, I too have my limits when it comes to fatty foods.

We had a couple of martinis at the bar while we waited to be seated. It’s a huge space but uncomfortably humid. By the time we started eating, we had stripped down to the T-shirts we wore under our light sweaters. The service is very brisk, and a few times, our waitress spilled water on our table and on the floor while refilling our glasses and of those around us. Busboys served the dishes without a word and no one ever came back to remind us of what we ordered. The entire time we were there, we chuckled at how the service is up to par with a trendy New York City restaurant on death watch.

The Louisiana cochon is a large chunk of pulled pork stewed with turnips and cabbage. I wish the taste of the stewed vegetables penetrated the meat a little bit more inside. A piece of crackling sat on top and was fought over and eventually split between the Dr. and I. The gumbo was absolute perfection with a little bit of tang and spice. It was made the way I like it: watery and a little light on the rice and heavy-handed on the okra stubs. I could not say the same about the boring alligator meat that, not surprisingly, tasted like chicken. It was a little gamier than regular white meat, but without the chili garlic aioli, it would have been just a chewy and bland beer food.

I made a huge mistake by booking our table at Cochon during our last night together in New Orleans. I was up to here with rich and buttery stews so I feel like I didn’t appreciate Cochon as much as I normally would. If there is a reason to return to New Orleans, mine would be to eat again at Cochon to do it some justice.

Cochon is at 930 Tchoupitoulas Street. Call 504/588.2123 for reservations and get ready to be engulfed by smoke and heat from the kitchen.

Where to eat in New Orleans, Louisiana: MiLa Restaurant

MiLa was a breathe of fresh air after inhaling smog all weekend. MiLa was like a clean bath after being submerged in lard and butter. I know those comparisons are preposterous, but I can’t stress enough how clean my palate was after our lunch at MiLa. For several days in New Orleans, I’ve been treated to a barrage of heavy foods and MiLa was actually the first restaurant among the nine–count them: nine–I visited during my four-day stay that had a fresh, and uncooked, salad on the menu. Needless to say, I devoured those greens like a hungry goat on green pasture. It barely had anything in it but a light lemon vinaigrette dressing with sunflower seeds and I ate it like I was Popeye deprived of Spinach.

The dishes that were cooked equally stood on their own feet. The curried squash soup was thin and light topped with chopped scallops and chives. The shrimp were served with micro greens, frisée, cherry tomatoes and thinly-sliced eggplants tossed in red wine dressing–the best dish among our five dishes. The monkfish was tasty and perfectly seared and was served with a potato purée and sauteed leeks. I wasn’t crazy about the persimmon ice cream, but I allowed myself something creamy and rich after that cathartic meal.

MiLa has one of the best deals in the city. The three-course lunch prix fixe costs $20 without drinks and a la carte entrees do not surpass the $19 mark unless you order a steak for $22. I rewarded myself for such a good find by ordering a bottle of sparkling water for a couple more dollars extra.

MiLa Restaurant is at 817 Common Street. It wasn’t crowded when I went for the three-course lunch prix fixe, but call 504/412.2580 for a reservation anyway to beat the power lunchers.

Related post/s:
MiLa Restaurant photos on Flickr