The first time Tito ever made me breakfast at his aparto in Japan he served me: soda crackers, plump purple olives, manjarblanco caramel, butter, cheese and pieces of apple.I thought it was pretty weird at the time, but enjoyed it nonetheless.Since then I have come to realise that it was a pretty standard Peruvian breakfast (except maybe the soda crackers – here they go out to get fresh white baps most mornings).I have also come to love it, and requested mantecoso cheese (creamy, aged dairy goodness) and the salty, meaty purple olives for our second breakfast here.Together, they make a great sandwich.
After drinking half a litre of delicious creamy lucuma (a wonderful ancient fruit that I am more then slightly obsessed with) drinking yogurt and totally breaking my stomach on the first day, I have laid off the stuff.It is SO popular, with huge rows of different types of drinking yogurt dominating the supermarket aisles.I might dare to try it again soon.In the meantime, I have enjoyed lucuma ice-cream at the beach, and a lucuma chupete (homemade lolly) in town.
Of course, the national dish cebiche is ever-popular and highly celebrated.I have had a little, but would like to have lashings of the stuff.Basically, fish and seafood, raw but marinated in limon, is served with thinly sliced red onion and hot rocoto pepper.There are many variations – the picture here is of a cebiche Tito had in Lima (I didn’t dare after the yogurt fiasco) with sweet potato, corn and seaweed.It was nice, I believe, but lacked the zing of a Chiclayo cebiche. I have decided that I am going to go all out with the cebiche - possibly tomorrow for the hangover (we are becoming godparents again this afternoon) - and sod the consequences!
We're back in Peru for 5 weeks holiday! When I first started this blog in 2004, I wrote the profile entry below*. 4 years on, we are based in Wimbledon, London and approaching our 4th anniversary already! It's amazing to get back to Peru... and get some sun, sand and cebiche!
*Although I’ve always been interested in International Affairs, I never expected I’d move to Peru to be with a man who doesn’t speak English. Nor did I anticipate I’d fall in love with a Spanish speaker whilst I was living in Japan. Especially since I couldn’t speak Spanish. But that’s where Japanese (albeit not particularly known as a language of love) came in rather handy. Well, not just handy, but apparently also effective, as it got us through the relationship eventualities of recollections of previous debauched behaviour, sharing toothbrushes, moving in together, exchanging CD collections, and getting engaged, followed by six months of separation and tearful North Yorkshire to South Tochigi phonecalls, to where we are today. Which is, to be precise, the city of Chiclayo, on the arid northern desert coastline of Peru.