Arrived in Casma last night after a long trip to
Peru. I flew a budget airline, which was mostly fine; but it prolonged what is
already a moderately long voyage that always feels very long. No matter what,
it takes all day to get from the US to Lima, Peru and then it takes all day to
get from Lima to Casma. I gave myself a day in-between to visit some of my
favorite sites in Lima before boarding another metal tube full of humans for another long voyage.
When I arrived in Casma, the first thing I did was
check in to my hotel. As is often the case, they weren’t quite certain that I
had a reservation because all the rooms were booked up during the middle of my
supposed stay: for Fiestas Patrias/Peruvian Independence Day. However, once I
showed the attendant my email correspondence substantiating my claim. I got a
room that maybe had been forgotten for a while. There was no shower curtain and the floor was not
swept. Peruvians always keep floors
clean, I think as both a matter of pride and as a sign of respect to others who
might visit.
As a matter of self-care, I took a spin on foot all
around Casma to get my bearings. Then I ate at one of my favorite restaurants,
El Tio Sam (Uncle Sam), Casma’s best-known restaurante
turistica. I've been going to Tio Sam for a long time. I’d stopped here during my first trip to Peru in 2001, have run
into countless archaeologists there just by accident in subsequent years, and I spent a lot of time
eating there eating alone during my stay whilst completing my dissertation field research.
Now, as was the case in 2011, it seems that Tio Sam is doing bangup business
contracting a pension with the
OHL road construction crew.
Last night, men in
yellow fluorescent uniforms were lined up out the door to sign the register and
receive their dinner. The menu appeared to be roast chicken and puree de verduras, served over a pile of
rice. Naturally the puree nearly slid off the plate: a Peruvian serving
technique that says, ‘I’ve given you all this plate can handle, engordate!’
I ordered my classic favorite dish here, a dish done
so well here that there’s almost no point in asking for it elsewhere: tacu tacu
solo con sarsa criolla. Tacu tacu is exemplary as a Peruvian coastal dish. It
includes a combination of indigenous, European, and Asian ingredients prepared
in a stick-to-your-ribs recipe that nourishes people who begin work during cold, foggy mornings and end in hot, dry afternoons. Tacu tacu must have been hacienda food that was made cheaply and in bulk to feed to farmhands and
corvée laborers.
In its foundation, tacu tacu is Peruvian rice and beans. I've been told that the rice
must be leftover from yesterday and the beans are typically canarias, which are like Mexican
pinto beans. The rice and beans are mixed with piquant spices that almost
certainly include one of the innumerable Peruvian chilis, collectively called aji, salt, and citrus. Some cooks use
breadcrumbs on top and make a yellower version. However, Tio Sam does it much
much better. They use cebolla china
(green onions) and no breadcrumbs. The tacu tacu always has a reddish-pink color to it. The sarsa criolla served on the side is mild
red onions mixed with lots of lime juice (exclusively a variety like the key
lime), and hot pepper rings. They marinate together to create a refreshing and satisfying dish that is somewhere between a condiment and a salad.
The key here is that the sarsa’s tart and sweet
juices flood around the rice and bean pancake and then mingle with its base. I could eat tons of this, and I
have. I sometimes have asked for a double order of doubly hot sarsa. Some young (American) archaeologists from these parts have been known to collect the extras from their
colleagues and save them for late-night snacking. Such a good dish.
Having stuffed myself full of the savory and sour
tacu tacu con sarsa criolla, I made my way back to the hotel. On the way back I ate some picarones: Peruvian fried dough rings made with pumpkin flour and anise, topped with clove-infused molasses 'miel' (honey). I also ran into my old friend and colleague Felix, who - when not expertly excavating with an American archaeological project - serves as the de facto harbor master for the mototaxis that serve the Sechin branch of the Casma River.
Finally, I returned to the hotel, crawled into
bed, and failed completely in reading any of Don
Quixote (who is perhaps the archetype for all archaeologists). I slept for
a solid 9 hours.
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I think that it’s important to attend to various
kinds of self-care when travelling, especially when traveling alone. In this
case, getting my bearings by doing a pass around Casma – a city I knew pretty
well 3 years ago – is a good way to feel at home again in what is, admittedly,
quite a strange place for a gringo. Eating familiar and favorite foods really helps one to acclimate to a
new place, too. In this case, the tacu tacu was not only one of my favorite foods, but a food that I've eaten together with friends and my wife; it's become a bit famous among us, and so it is doubly familiar. It's familiar to me, but also the food I've shared with my familiars.
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| Tacu Tacu with Sarsa Criolla from El Tio Sam |
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