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| Stuffed Horse Intestines |
BISHKEK, KYRGYZSTAN “No, I’m not going to eat stuffed horse intestine!” “But you got to. It’s a delicacy here in Kyrgyzstan. Everybody tries it, at least once.” Cholpon pushed the gray smelly slice of sausage into my face. Was this gross or was I just being a wimp? I reached up to protect my mouth, but Cholpon got there first pressing the slimy slice to my lips. “Ugh! It smells rancid,” or was it just my imagination? I delicately put my fingers around the slice to stop her from pressing it further. She let go, “Come on! Take it! Take it!” I stood there with the piece to my lips. Am I really going to eat this? No way, but then (why, I’m not sure) I bit into it and just as quickly jerked it out of my mouth. “Oh my god, this is terrible – something rancid, salty, and disgusting!” Cholpon smiled and graciously took the piece from me and gulped in down. “Delicious! Absolutely delicious! — Maybe a little warm. I like it cold.” The lady behind the stand looked at us as though this scene was all too familiar. Let’s move on,” Cholpon said. Not far away were stacked bushels of white balls. “Cheese balls! They are so good. You must try one.” They looked harmless enough and I love cheese. “Okay, I’ll try one.” Cholpon bought three of them and handed me one. I bit into it. “Oh, yuck! — so salty and sour! This is terrible!” “No, it’s delicious,” she laughed, as she reached for mine and gulped it down. That was it. I wasn’t going to experiment anymore. “Just one more thing you must try.” “What’s that?” “horse milk.” “No! Are you kidding? — Absolutely not! — The thought of it makes me sick!” “You must try. Everyone loves it.” I turned and walked away. Cholpon caught up with me, a cup of milk in hand. “Here, take it! You’ll like it!” “No! No! No!” She persisted, so I dipped my little finger into the milk and put it to my lips. “Shit! That’s really sour! Bitter!” Cholpon drank from the cup, “Yes, a little sour. I like it better when it’s not as fermented.”
