Food Days

These days are the “days of the empanada.” In truth, the 18th of September is the day of independencia – not the 11th of September, as I had thought. This one is the day of the military coup. Rodrigo said, make that mistake to the wrong people and they kill you. I try to think/hope he was just playing up the “dangerous (Latin) world” part; they are always very anxious here. (And there is the joke that the gringos stole that day, too, by having an even worse 11th of September…)
Anyway, the Day of the golpe, the coup, is not exactly celebrated, and not exactly commemorated either. I don´t know much more of yet; I am not surrounded by very political people – politics still reeks of “danger” and “trouble”, at best, futility. I just read that a third of young Chilenos is more or less apolitical, which I find astounding. Not in comparison to Europe or the States (where the figures are the same or higher, I imagine) but for the context of a country that just got rid of its dictatorship. I don´t know. Surely seems like democracy is not the hottest thing after all, at least not in this form.

Well, the 18th of September is for eating empanada de pino, a fatty delicious dough filled with pieces of beef, onions, a bit of boiled egg, olives and raisins. I think one would be enough for a calorie-comfortable day, so I had about 3 and a half. On the first day. Señora Viviana, who invited us recently to have lunch at her house in the neighboring town of Lago Algo, said it´s the healthiest empanada there is. There is also one that is filled with cheese and then deep-fried, so she might be right.



After the empanada day, there is the meat-and-potato day. The family meets and starts preparing various foods from the morning onward, mostly meat and hum, potatoes.
It is barbecue time, or rather, time for asado. Lots of wine is involved, three kinds of formery free-running, former animals, and some salads. All very relaxed and friendly; the presence of 3-year-old Angela helped when I would tighten up about all that family presence. Rodrigo and I were preparing Kartoffelschnitze (to general appreciation) in an outdoor oven, while the radio was blasting the Cueca.



I continue to be fascinated by this tradition. read this: "The Cueca has rich historical roots in both African and Native American cultures. The dance is a parody of the courtship of a chicken and rooster. The dancers wave handkerchiefs above their heads during the dance. These handkerchiefs can symbolize the feathers of the bird or the rooster’s comb."
Yesterday Chile´s president Michelle Bachelet had to/the pleasure to do the chicken dance on National Television. I savor the thought of Merkel, Schröder (less funny) or Kohl having to do a national dance.