The Maltese Bacon

Bat Stew for the Soul (A Food Memory, circa 2000)

photo courtesy of Foufperrault

I must say, eating bat, was less thrilling than eating sardines with their heads still on. For one thing, there was no discernible wing. The chef had politely deboned the meat. I was in Manado, the capital of Northern Sulawesi, an island in Indonesia. The Chinese population there has had an influence on the local cuisine, giving the city's residents a reputation for their ability to eat almost anything, including fried field rat, cat, python and dog, a highlight of celebration dinners. But back to the bat. The meat was stewed so that it was very tender and this being a former stop on the spice trade route, it was stupendously spicy. I couldn’t taste its bat-like properties. 

      My friend Diana and I had just flown into the city, which we were stopping at before we headed to the mythical Togean Islands. In my mind, the Togean Islands' legendary status began years ago when my English friend Cath, who had spent a year backacking through Asia whispered to me “If you go anywhere in Southeast Asia, go to the Togeans.” She had promised beauty, seclusion and supreme diving. I later learned that the Togeans are an archipelago of 56 islands in the bay of Sulawesi.

      When we arrived in Sulawesi, the locals warned us to avoid traveling through the middle part of the island, since there had been a spate of Muslim-Christian riots in the region recently and it was still too dangerous. Putting the American stereotype to the test, we had been completely ignorant of the situation. Our trouble was, we had been planning on getting to the Togeans by traveling through there. Eventually, we came up with a Plan B that involved a terribly long detour - a 10 hour bus ride south, a flight to Manado north, and a boat out to the Togeans to the South.

      Imagine my chagrin when we arrived in Manado and I was told that the dude who usually took people to our destination had simply sold his boat.

    “What do you mean the boat has been sold? Aren’t there other boats?"
    “No, there was just one."
    “And he sold it?"
    “Yes.”

      Cue the bratty Western style nervous breakdown. I nearly took to my bed and then I ate bat. I needed to do something life affirming and therapeutic. Something that said: “You have endured 2 days of bumpy travel for a reason. You are having a ball and eating bat.”  The bat did me good. I was ready to take another 10 hour bus ride west, which would take us to the five hour boat ride south to the Togeans. On the final stretch out to the islands, I sat at the bow of the boat and watched flying fish dart out of the water and glide in the air before they dove back in. They felt like the guardian sea turtles in Finding Nemo, cheering me on to get to my destination.

We ended up on Kadidiri Island where there is a small diving school. The island is covered by jungle but has a very small stretch of beach where 3 hotels were set up. This consists of single unit beach shacks with all meals included at about $5/day. We stayed at the Pondok Lestari hotel run by the sweetest family. In the evenings, our teenage friend would go out on his wooden two man boat and catch a mackerel for his mom to cook up for dinner. 

      During the day, the water was a range of emerald greens, yellows and turquoise. This was the quiet paradise that backpackers spend all their energy trying to find. No roads, buses and big boats. Just a ½ mile of beach and pristine ocean. The only commerce that came through the island was a man with a huge smile, wearing a yellow hard hat. He would paddle around on his teeny boat, mysteriously picking up and distributing rocks. 

      As we were taking the boat out one morning for a dive, I saw a sea snake gliding quickly as lightning on the surface of the water. The ocean was a wonderful crazy world of dolphins, turtles, manatees, sharks, pipe fish, eels, eagle rays, giant jellyfish, sea cucumbers, shrimp, angelfish, tuna, jacks, and thousands of other varieties of sea creatures.

      Life here was simple. Pour a bucket of water on your head in the morning. Breakfast. Take the boat out for a dive. Lunch. Snorkel in the afternoon. Stare at the sunset from the dock. Dinner.  Sit and watch the glowing plankton in the ocean, the stars and the fireflies. Hit your head on the pillow to the sounds of the jungle and the murmur of the ocean. Repeat. Diana cried when we finally had to embark on the boat to leave and I had no bat stew on hand to console me.

Donald Judd's Kitchen

I always love snooping around people's kitchens and trying to figure out what they are like. You know, do some basic kitchen psychology 101 and make sweeping generalizations about their character based on their cans of baby corn or what their ratio of veg to vodka is in the crisper. People think I'm a bit forward when I gumshoe their fridge, so I sneak looks in when the host is setting food out on the table.

Yesterday, I was able to walk around the late Donald Judd's Soho kitchen on a tour. Of course, there were no groceries in there to look at (and the fridge had been removed), but the design was such an interesting glimpse into how far he took his aesthetic. The man was the original minimalist loft-living downtowner. Industrial kitchen sink from the Bowery. An appliance or two from Canal St.  Simple wood table for the counters. Utensils, plates and cups arranged perfectly. He chopped off the tops of the dining rooms chairs so that they would be on the same plane as the table. Unfortunately, I was not allowed to take pictures. 

I left my heart in the Yucatan

On the western side of the Yucatan peninsula, there lies Celestun, a sleepy fishing village whose main draw is the the flamingos that love and squawk there most of the year. I was more than happy to comply with John's desire to go there, since the town offered copius amounts of blue crab ceviche, which I happily ate at Restaurante Chivirico.

There is no bank in town, but there is a small tortilla factory. I was peeking my head into the establishment when this nice lady held out a fresh tortilla for me to try. It was piping hot with the edges slightly blackened. She sold me a giant stack for about 15 cents.