An American scholar digs into the sort of debauched Mongolian feast that, alas, we’ve only had in our wildest dreams:
Sheep fat! Stuffed beef intestine! Goat’s head! Petrified curds, harder than jawbreakers! And, of course, buuz. I ate them all, these foods that not so long ago had my fork shaking. Two bottles of vodka appeared, and were gone. In the corner, a newborn calf slept, then stood up; when it started to pee a boy put a jar beneath it as if it were a leaking roof. A little girl danced to techno music playing from a cell phone. Twenty-three people laid out blankets along the beds and floors of the one room cabin.
Plenty more “food of the nomads” here. And don’t forget the marmots.
(Thanks, Andrew!)
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