Our days began with coffee and/or tea. The coffee is instant, but
mixed in plastic containers with sugar and condensed milk, giving
it a creamy, satisfying flavor. Black milk tea with sugar was a huge
hit with the group, so much so that I brought a box back for my
kitchen. Most days we would wake up to omelets with whatever
veggies were available, and they were always spicy. Peppers grew in
colorful clusters around the porch, warm from the sun. Other days
would be a plate of steaming sel-roti, rice doughnuts that are fried
then dusted with sugar. The sugar would sometimes cook down into
a caramel, giving the dough a delightful toasty taste. French toast
was also a hit, so sweet with cinnamon that no syrup was needed.
Pokhara is a friendly, vibrant city, full of diverse neighborhoods
and shops. The tourist district, known as Lakeside, is a little less
cluttered than the heart of the city. Here is where we found our
favorite spot of the trip, Zorbas. Owned by a Nepalese woman and
managed by an Aussie, this bar and restaurant is cozy and clean, and
even has a hotel attached. Best part? Feel free to have ice in your
glass. Most of the restaurants in the tourist districts use mineral or
bottled water to cook with, keeping visitors safe from stomach bugs.
Zorbas is where I had my first experience with prawn crackers, a
popular snack food in Asia. Made of fried shrimp and starch, deep
fried into a pillow of flavor, these little chips pack a ton of umami
goodness, and are perfect for a night of drinking.
On crooked, packed dirt sidewalks, we ventured down alleys and
side streets, peeking inside little shops and cafes. Stopping into one
nondescript spot, we ordered a couple of real sugar Fantas, and
had curry with mutton and chicken chow mein. The dust from the
sidewalk blew around our feet as we watched a young man load
bottles onto what looked to be a lawnmower with a tent built over
it. Cattle walked freely in the streets, with the occasional stray dog.
Eating by candlelight in the United States is often seen as
a romantic gesture. In Nepal, it is a necessity. Because of an
overstretched power grid, blackouts are commonplace in Pokhara,
and can last anywhere from a few minutes to hours. Aunt Phal is
fortunate enough to have generators that kick on when such power
outages occur. However, one dinner was cloaked in darkness, which
made it all the more enjoyable - chicken curry with tomatoes,
potato curry with chives, and pumpkin curry. The pumpkin was
actually a variety of squash, but was, by far, my favorite of the
evening.
Most homes have gardens that supply food for the households,
without the hint of pesticides tainting the freshness. Mountainous,
robust heads of cilantro slouched like weeping willows over baskets
in the kitchen, draped over tomatoes and green onions. From the
care and attention to flavor that was given to smaller meals, I could
only imagine how incredible the wedding meal was going to be.
In American weddings, the only involvement the family has with
the food is arranging the catering. For days before the wedding
in Pokhara, family members and neighbors starting bringing in
massive steel pots and serving dishes to the courtyard, big enough to
hold a water buffalo calf. Our host said that in this neighborhood,
everyone contributes to having a set of dishes, chairs, and other
items for use in events like weddings. Neighbors rent the equipment
as needed, and make sure they are clean and ready for the next
celebration.
fsmomaha.com
“Another experience for the books?
That would be seeing dinner
taken off the truck, bleating
and breathing.”
Another experience for the books? That would be seeing dinner
being taken off the truck, bleating and breathing. Six goats were the
main course for the wedding, along with so many chickens that we
lost count. There was enough food to feed the entire neighborhood,
which is quite literally what was done. For weddings in close knit
communities like Pokhara, the entire town is invited to join in the
festivities and bless the bride and groom. In lieu of a church, we
were in a Buddhist temple. Instead of taking shots in a bar, we had
milk tea and cookies with the monks, while Rhesus monkeys played
outside the gates. I wouldn’t have traded it for all the Jameson in the
land.
After the ceremony, we were dropped off about 15 minutes from
Aunt Phal’s’ home. It is tradition that the bride is walked home as
a married woman by her groom and the wedding party. In front
of us, we had a traditional Nepali band and a group of dancers
swaddled in red saris. Behind us, more and more people joined in
the walk, singing in Nepali and grabbing whomever was near to
dance in celebration. By the time we walked home, the whole of the
country was behind us and we were all famished. Through a pink
and red gate, we walked to a