Market Day

In the months leading up to our move to Uruguay, I had bucolic fantasies dancing around my brain about raising chickens, having farm animals and being an organic gardener. I had even planned what the hen-house would look like. In my Green Acres silliness, I had already named the goats we would raise after previous co-workers (Ino for the stinkiest one and Kylie for the cutest). Clearly, all those issues of Mother Earth News I had read had taken root in my brain.




Fast forward to the present. It became clear that an isolated life in a rustic cabin in the campo does not suit us for more than a few months of the year. So we traded in our pitch fork and overalls for a modern house in a beach town with all the amenities. Don’t start thinking this is typical suburbia though. The road in front of our house, though level and well traveled, is not paved. The other day I was lured outside by the unmistakable clipity-clop of a horse-drawn carriage going down the road. It could have been followed by a speeding Mercedes. That’s how it is here – an interesting blend of old and new. Just a 15 minute walk to the water and we can buy fish caught that day. We also have an open air market (called a feria) just down the road that we walk to once a week to buy a huge variety of high quality inexpensive fresh local produce.

So, no chickens for us. We can buy lovely organic eggs with rich orange yolks at the weekly market for far less than we would spend on chicken feed. And we don’t have to clean up chicken shit. Even after devouring books like The Last American Man, and Carla Emory’s Encyclopedia of Country Living, and of course, Mother Earth News, I am no homesteader. And that is just fine. Because in Uruguay, you don’t have to grow it yourself and live off the grid to have wholesome, fresh, locally produced food as the norm. It is a small country and they don’t need to turn to factory farming to feed it. Also it bears mentioning that petroleum based fertilizers are expensive and natural farming traditions are preserved because they are simply cheaper. Farm animals pretty much live out their animal lives in a natural way before making their way to your dinner plate. No CAFOs, no so-called “free range” chickens that live their beakless lives without ever seeing the sun, no docking the tails of pigs so they don’t bite off each others’ tails in their horrible fetid confinement. I think author Michael Pollan would be pleased.

Today is market day. I am eating divinely sweet strawberries at the moment. We came home with our usual huge haul. We walked there and spent 297 pesos (about $13).
This bought us: ½ kilo of strawberries, 1 kilo of tomatoes, 2 kilos of onions, 2 eggplant, 1 large winter squash, 1 bunch of spinach, 2 kilos of oranges, 1 large head of broccoli, 1 kilo of lemons, a bunch of bananas (the one non-local concession, they are from Ecuador, it is too cold here for them), and ¼ kilo of black olives. In this country of non-apologetic carnivores where beef is practically a religion, one could be a vegetarian quite easily.

We Like It Raw

Our milk, that is. We have discovered raw milk and are now hooked on the stuff. Devotees of raw milk tout its health benefits. I cannot prove that it is better for me, I just like the fact that it is delicious and all natural and I know its source. Before you get all squeamish about drinking unpasteurized, unhomogenized, straight-from-the-cow milk, consider this - do you know where your food comes from? Do you care? I hope you do. I do, and that is why I am happy to know the cow that our milk comes from and to know the farmer who cares for her.

I admit that initially I had reservations about drinking unpasteurized milk. This was just due to my ignorance. I did not know what it would taste like and have heard many warnings against its consumption. The milk was brought to us as a gift from a friend who knew we were curious about his cows. I assumed that it should be used in cooking rather than consumed as is, so I used our first five liter batch to make dulce de leche. However, we liked the rich creaminess and clean taste of the milk and were soon asking for more. Cesar, true to form, immediately researched the topic and discovered some very interesting things about fresh, raw milk.

For starters, the pasteurization process which kills harmful bacteria also kills beneficial bacteria and destroys certain enzymes which aid digestion and boost the immune system. One of these friendly bacteria is lactic acid bacilli. When this heat intolerant bacterium is destroyed, the milk cannot sour and simply decomposes eventually. This is why old pasteurized milk gets very stinky and foul after its expiration date, whereas raw milk simply sours. Pasteurization changes the composition of milk in other ways too. It makes calcium less soluble and therefore more difficult to absorb by the body and it makes the lactose more soluble, therefore more quickly absorbed. Of course one takes the risk of consuming harmful bacteria as well, such as Listeria, E. coli and Salmonella. But if the cow is pastured rather than kept in a pen and the farmer takes all necessary precautions to keep her clean and healthy, I feel this risk is small. I believe I would be more likely to get nasty pathogen like E. coli from eating bagged spinach in the USA than I would from consuming milk from our friend’s cow. However, be careful before you try this at home, kids! If you do not know the cow and do not have complete confidence in the person who cares for her, do not drink it raw.

We visited our farmer friend at his house for the first time. He let me milk the cow. As a new experience, it was fun, but I wouldn’t want to have to do it every day. His family has four cows and they must be milked twice every day. It does not matter if you are sick, it is freezing cold outside or you are just sick of milking the darn cow - it has got to be done. Each cow gives about seven gallons of milk a day. Perhaps we will own a cow someday. For now though, we are happy just to have a source of fresh raw milk that we know and trust.

Are you curious about raw milk?
Further reading:
from the Washington Post: The Raw Deal
from the New York Times: Making Their Case for Raw Milk and Should This Milk Be Legal?

Cow Candy

Uruguay is a country of cows. There are approximately four cows to each human in Uruguay. That is a whole lot of milk. I think that explains Uruguayans’ addiction to dulce de leche, the creamy sweet stuff made from cooking milk and sugar. Dulce de leche is popular in all of South America, but the Uruguayans take it to new heights with their consumption of pastries filled, drizzled, daubed or smothered with it. Walk into any panaderia and you will notice that most of the sweets on display involve dulce de leche. Sadly, they are not very into chocolate here and their chocolate generally stinks.

So what is it exactly? Dulce de leche, heaven on a spoon, is a caramel colored, exquisitely smooth, and very sweet spread. It can be smeared on toast, used to fill cakes, cookies and crepes, or just eaten with a spoon from the jar. North Americans usually mistake it for caramel. It is like caramel, but more creamy and milky in taste and texture.

Living here, I knew I would have to battle my dulce de leche addiction. For the first couple of months, I put off buying any. Then I caved and bought a jar of the La Pataia brand (my favorite). Once the jar was gone, I vowed to not buy any again. That does not mean I don’t eat it when we go out, but there is no reason to have it around the house.

That was until yesterday, when a friend brought us five liters of fresh milk. Just that morning that milk had been in his cow. By the evening, the milk was in my pot, being simmered with sugar, a small bit of baking soda, and a bit of orange zest until it was transformed into the sticky goodness that I love. My first time making real dulce de leche (some people cheat by submerging an unopened can of sweetened condensed milk into a pot of boiling water for three hours) I was expecting disaster, but it was quite easy to make. Or maybe I should clarify that by saying it is easy if you don’t mind stirring the pot for two hours while it reduces and cooks until light brown in color. Luckily, Cesar shared in the stirring duty. The result was creamy and smooth. The taste was sweet, with the rich flavor of caramel and a delicate hint of orange flavor that gave it nice depth.

Now I have to figure out what to do with the stuff. It can’t stay here, or I will eat it all.