The Backpackers Gastronomic Food Revolution

Backpackers Gastronomical Revolution

On the travellers trail of South America there is a rumour. If you pay close enough attention or ask the right questions you may hear the faintest whisper about it. If you are a lover of food or a new experience then it will sound like food Nirvana. We picked up its scent twice, once in Ecuador and then in Bogota, Colombia. Our hopes of finding it were dashed somewhat although the new information spoke of it being back on the move and that maybe it was in Santa Marta. 

I am referring to the Backpackers Gastronomical Revolution of course. Although the name may appeal it is not likely you have heard of it. Its philosophy however will make perfect sense. When its genius hits you two things will become instantly clear. The first is that you want to be a part of it, savour its courses and tell the world. The second is that it is an overdue simple solution to a problem that all backpackers have experienced. 
This is a problem that was not be endured by a man named Joseph Romero. Romero means rosemary in English and food it seems was always to be his destiny. Both his Mum and his Uncle are 3 star Michelin chefs but this alone he tells us does not make him a good chef. This comes from a passion that is both great to see and a joy to eat. The problem Joseph was having was that there is just not enough decent food to eat when you are traveling on a budget. It was clear that plenty of other travelers were having the same problem so Joseph began thinking of a solution. 

With more than enough talent and enthusiasm to save backpackers from poor cuisine Joseph began something that really is a revelation. He is not a man driven by money he just wants to be happy and share this joy with others through his food. He used to work in the high brow restaurants of Europe but changed his outlook fours years ago and decided to pack it all in and go traveling with his son Mikail. This path led to phenomenon that is the Backpackers Gastronomical Revolution. 

The cuisine is ingredient driven and here in the Caribbean the fruit is really the star of the show. Whether it is a perfect avocado, the unbelievable taste of the banana apple or the blockbuster tree tomato. Joseph believes in food for well being as well as pleasure and it is great to see flavour and health next to each other on the plate. Our first plate of Mango and apple guineo nanaito salad, served with a cold tomato and veggies soup had all the vitamins, fibre and minerals that the body needs. 


Most of the dishes are his own interpretation of local or national food. To have incredible traditional local food with a modern twist at this price is a real cultural treat for the mind and the palate. Every ingredient is locally sourced, organic or wild. The fish we ate was harpooned this morning as he does not believe in trawling due to its harmful impact on the ocean. I do not believe in trawling either but I do believe in a man who's ethics are as great as his food.

It really feels like you are just eating at home in the quaint setting of a small hostel. We have a table cloth and a candle but it is all rather pleasant instead of pretentious. It was so inspiring to see such great food cooked with the most simple equipment. The blunt knifes slide rather than slice and they have a maximum of two weak gas hobs when hostel guests do not decide to use it in the middle of dinner. This is all a mild inconvenience to a calm and extremely competent chef who is determined to see backpackers eat gourmet food. 

We are all finding it hard to believe this is not just a dream as we sit in the middle of a whirlwind of plates and flavours. That is not to say you are rushed, you can asked for more time if you need it and Joseph could well be asking you if he could have a small cigarette break. I imagine anyone would find it hard to refuse this warm and charming man anything let alone when he is in the middle of cooking you one of the best meals you have ever eaten. When questioned he is quite open and assures us that all of the techniques he uses are quite simple. On request he will publish each and every recipe on his website. 

You almost get a new piece of cooking wisdom with each new dish. We learnt that great chefs differ from the good in that they can make you taste each and every ingredient. If this is not the case then he assures us he has made an error. This never happened, far from it in fact as the wonderfully different but complimentary flavours all played their part in the ensemble in our mouths. Black pepper is used in moderation on every dish as it opens up the pores of the food we are told. His dedication and belief in pepper reinforce mine and my brothers own eternal craving for it.
I will not try to describe each course as I have eaten 3 dinners now and a breakfast, which is over 40 courses! There are links to the menus below. Every course had its merit but for me the tomato with tangerine sauce and the beef tartar were mind blowing. 

Like all good things my time of eating Joseph's food has come to the end for now but as I slurped the last bit of passion fruit and raspberry salsa of my dessert plate I began to contemplate the man who brought me so many new flavours and so much pleasure. At that very moment he grabs a guitar and makes it sing not unlike like his courses. I can not help but think that a food revolution could not hope for a better ambassador. I for one feel privileged to be apart of it and implore you seek him out and support. You will be thanking both me for the recommendation and him for bringing you some of the best food you will have on your whole trip. 

If we really are what we eat then surely the whole world would be a nicer place if everyone dined with Joseph Romero. 

Viva la revolution!


Below are links to a couple of the menus we enjoyed and a link for any travellers hoping to find Joseph and his divine food;


http://artistsrepublic.blogspot.com/2010/10/october-14th-dinner-menu.html


http://artistsrepublic.blogspot.com/p/te-legendary-9-cour-is-breakfast-is.html

Pictures, People, Places - Entry 12b - Columbia - So far, so Salsa

Pair up, feel the rhythm and Dance

A free salsa lesson in Santa Marta was not to be missed to with tentative and exciting steps we took to the dance floor. The dance team comprised of A (Our Instructor), Anna (our friendly Colombian hostel owner who knew all the songs), Mikhail (a half Russian ex-professional ballet dancer), Sally (an ex -professional Kayaker), Chantelle (A trained performing artist), and yours truly (A professional Dj and sports teacher). So we all brought quite different backgrounds to the salsa table, it went a little something like this. We limbered up with a whole range of classic stretches and a few weird ones too. The instructor was already bringing the style the table gracefully moving from position to the next. He introduced himself and led us through the wonderful world of dance from Salsa, Meringue and some crazy ragga erotica too. 

It started out with some simple counting and steps and got progressively harder but remained within the realms of what you imagine to be footwork included in a salsa class. It was then time to partner up. He grabbed Chantelle for a demo and kept on grabbing her for the whole hour. This was in no way sleazy although some of the dance move were pretty sensual but when we laughed he had an honest and puzzled expression that simply said that is the move and I am teaching it to you. One of the dances was a 4 stage story of a man coveting his partner. She had to be aloof and look away the whole time. A hat and a candle were involved too but as to the significance your guess is probably better than mine. After going through the steps it was time for show and dance. 

The instructor went first with Chan and it really was excellent. Not that dissimilar to Strictly Come Dancing in front of my very eyes. Chantelle really was a star and used all her performing talent to deliver and very convincing performance. There was a crowd of 7 young Colombians that had come to check out our moves and they all gave a round of applause as did we. Sally and I went next and although we did not have quite so much panache we got through it and had fun at the same time. The next section got rather weird, sweaty and close. It was hips together, with the girl leaning chest against the man chest and then some thrusting. This we all found hilarious as Chan had to keep doing it until she got it right. After the laughter had died down I looked at Chan and commented on the dark sweat mark on her front. It turned out to be his sweat from all the closeness. She even said she could smell his aftershave long after the class finished. The funky moves were not quite over yet as I had to assume a 1 handed bridge on the floor and then let Chan stand and grind on my legs. This did not last very long as is often the case with first timers. By the end we could dance to different instructions independently and were exhausted and happy after what had been a full hour of exercise. 

Hugs, gratitude, showers and cold beers quickly followed.

Pictures, People, Places - Entry 12a - Columbia - So far, still great - Minca

To escape the relentless and unforgiving sun we headed to the hills of Minca. We hoped to find not only shade but also walk and watch some of the 300 species of bird and maybe swim in a waterfall or two. We did indeed see some stunning birds on an epic walk with a young Colombian guide who was very accomplished.  His name is Markos and you should find him for tours if you ever go to Minca. Although the green beaked Toucan remained elusive we still managed to see and hear a Carpintero (wood pecker), some bright red tanagers and the majestic blue crowned Mot Mot.

His youth also brought some rather insane waterfall action and we scaled the slippery rock face to witness its power first hand. The force of the falls on your skin and the deafening noise all around was like glimpsing the true power of nature. He also found a vine to practice our Tarzan moves.


We left a lot of our stuff in Bogota and were not expecting a few nights outside in a hammock. We were ill prepared for the cold that comes just before the dawn. To be rudely awakened by jack frost himself is even less preferable than your Mum on a school day. We shivered back to our rooms and sought refuge in Michelin man layers and a few blankets. Sally on the other hand was as snug as a bug in a rug in her arctic ready roll.  The second night was not much better for me but Chan had more appropriate cloths so slept well. It was not until the third night after meeting a french Knight called Tristen who although did not have any shining armour he did have a sleeping bag which saved the day. 


We all slept happily ever after.

From Phosphorescence to Prostitution

It, like most other days began at 00:00 midnight, so this is where the tale will commence. It was the last night of what had been a near perfect week. Just for a change we had a few beers to wash down the barely tolerable hour old lobster, salad and coconut rice. After a drinking game called ring of fire which always involves much silliness, this time in the form of talking like one of our favourite film characters (I was the T800 aka Arnie) it was almost time for bed. That was until we remembered that Loz (who was on the last day of a 2 week holiday) had never seen phosphorescence and we were literally meters away from the sea and this most incredible phenomenon. Half cut and half dressed we entered the Caribbean sea. It was dark as the moon had almost wained but there was a strange glow in the waves as they broke upon the shore. This was the start of something special. Every movement disturbs the phosphorescence and covers the shape of whatever is moving in a mythical turquoise neon cloud. Until you witness your arms turn into light sabers it is really hard to believe this is happening and not just a magic mushroom inspired vision. Even carefully crafted words fall short of doing this moment any justice as is so often the case. 

We woke up for the last time on this unbelievably remote and stunning part of the Caribbean coast. A vast desolate beach littered with palms and coconuts providing the backdrop, the regular but timid waves providing the sound track and the local hens generously providing breakfast.
As this is a travel day the following necessary activities must be completed -

Finding, sorting, folding, rolling and arranging of clothes.
Wetting, cleansing, scrubbing, rinsing, and drying of body.
Searching, checking and rechecking of room.
Clearing of bill and arranging of transport to next location.
Local bus with school kids playing hand clapping and singing games. I am only aware now when people are not staring at me. A stunning drive down the Caribbean coast which led to a humbling by the vastness of the ocean. It really is beyond comprehension. 

We disembark in the middle of the Santa Marta local market. The following assault of the senses commences. A narrow path with insufficient head room leaves little room for personal space. Drying carcasses and fish guts blend with the undeniable aroma of rubbish and excrement. The 35 degree heat and the 15kg back pack team up on your skin and this abuse makes it weep floods of tears. The sound of the ever welcoming "Hey you" or being counted like cattle "uno, dos, tres, cuatro, cinco gringos" makes us all feel welcome. 

Money is needed to pay off friendship loans that are often created when you live away from the world for a week and lose most of your money. Several banks do not work despite claims of VISA availability. The international banks I used today probably gave the worst feedback possible. Even diminishing increments of money could not remove the dreaded "insufficient funds". We had to transferred and switched and recalculated until all was sorted, said goodbye to 'Mum and Dad' and ran for the sanctuary of our new hostel. 

The was a problem that could only be solved by one of the modern heroes of the travel world. Yes this was a case for Wi Fi. After acquiring the secret password and completing a day at the office, within the hour of arrival we were back on the streets feeling like new - the sun on our backs, the sea breeze on our faces, with all our debts cleared, walking a new path with money in our pockets.
Lunch, coincided with a Premiership football game so I was left alone for 45 minutes of good times. The beer was cold and it was great to see a game of football but it did not quite end as I had planned. The team I wanted to win lost and the beer was clearly processed with some kind of poison which does not generate good flavour or a good disposition after drinking. I left the restaurant feeling dazed and confused in desperate need of some fresh air. I found the girls sipping a different type of beer at what turned out to be  a working girls hangout. They smoked cigarettes and danced to the excessively loud distorted Salsa in between prowling the streets. I still needed more air and we all craved somewhere nicer so we took our feet walking. 

We eventually found somewhere suitably scenic by the sea and after bartering for the price of beer we sat down. A large TV screen was playing music videos of pop divas and the girls and the metro Colombian bar staff were quite content watching Madonna, Kylie, Beyonce and co. do their thing. I must confess to enjoying a few myself but we were frequently disrupted by the vendors selling us something else we clearly did not want. I took the brunt of this as I was facing the other way, people watching. "No quiero gracias" is the important phrase here or just a classic shake of the head and a wave of the hand. There are so many and you are so certain that you do not want their wares you barely even pay any attention to their appearance or their items. This over exposure and alcohol induced complacency was to be the cause of the next few hours of anger, distress, excitement and awe. 

One seller came rather close and I vaguely remember glancing at his laminated poster and saying the magic phrase and he was gone just like the rest. I thought nothing of it until our Australian friend minutes later started panicking and saying something about losing her wallet. In an opportune moment the seller had reached under his poster and taken her wallet. We started running down the street after him but already feared we were much too late. We saw the police and explained what had happened and the next moment we were getting into the police truck in search of the thief. I moved a few folders on my seat and was about to sit down until the male officer starting proclaiming that something was wrong. It turns out I was about to sit down on a loaded gun! Not only did I have to explain it all in Spanish but we would have had hardly anything to say about him in our first language as before he took the wallet he was just another face in the crowd. The next hour turned out to be a bizarre and unique tour of the dark side of Santa Marta, one which we would have never been able to see alone. The barrios are the home of the drug addicts and prostitutes and the sights and sounds were both mesmerising and disturbing; Young children cowering in the corners covering up their faces, men dressed as women and women dressed in almost nothing, Caribbean sounds blaring and with both expert dancers and those barely capable of standing still staggering to the salsa beat, drug addicts desperately searching for their next high and those caught in the act who were promptly told to "batir" or throw away their drug of choice (the officers informed me it was crack cocaine) meters from our eyes. 

This truly was an eye opener and our senses were overwhelmed. We kept being reminded that we were to keep searching for him but we barely knew what he looked like and staring at the underbelly of Columbia directly in the eye was not for the faint hearted. At one point we went searching on foot and I could not help but wonder what we would do even if we did find him. After a quick inquiry it was pretty clear that violence was coming his way. We were not sure whether justice served in this form was worth the 60 pounds that Sally had lost. This never materialised as we were never going to find him and never did.  We returned to a slightly concerned Chantelle with a crazy story after what turned out to be an incredible if not slightly expensive tour of Santa Marta's dark side. In a moment that is now quite amusing on reflection the metro Colombian blamed himself for paying too much attention to Beyonce and not enough on his bar. Hard to blame him really as she is rather mesmerising dancing in a swim suit. 

As I drank another beer surrounded by working girls behaving extremely strangely, deafening Colombian beats and beggars  I sunk into a very contemplative state. I wondered just how much of the world I had really seen up to this point after over 30 months of international travel. It also made me think about England and the sheltered lives that most of us lead. After those 15 minutes of whirlwind thought, it was easy to think ignorance is bliss and for most of us I am sure it is. However the world is full of as much beauty and wonder as it is depravity and darkness and I count myself lucky to have bathed in as much of its waters as I have.
Joseph Thomas Davies.
10 o'clock pm English time on the 10th of the 10th two thousand and 10. 

The awesome image is from http://www.philhart.com/content/bioluminescence-gippsland-lakes

Pictures, People, Places - Entry 12 - Columbia - So far, so great

Cali
We headed straight for the San Antonio area which is the district for artisans, doctors and students alike. There was a refreshing breeze that blew away the border crossing blues and woke us up to what was clearly an exciting town. Their were young and old cheek by jowl on the streets sipping a beer which turned out to be rather tasty and well earned. Jaime our travel buddy nearly lost his toe in a crazy accident so we were limited to little movement despite this incidence that we could just leave him in a bar. We stuck by him and he rewarded our friendship with a great gift of chilled vino blanco around the sociable hour of 1 in the afternoon. 5 bottles of wine and a taxi later I had managed to leave my coat at the other bar. No matter we shall drink beer and sing Charles and Eddie and then we shall be ready to return to the original bar. Maybe we will eat at some point but who knows. The wine was a touch more than we had expected so we ended up hammered in a taxi with only dollars to our name. Nobody had a clue how much they were worth but they all made sure we were paying enough and we probably got the worst exchange rate in history. We certainly did not care at the time as not only had I found my jacket but we had some cash and the bar was open. Beers and double tequilas were followed by huge gaps in our memory which was only reinstalled the next day by Jaime video diary. We apparently ate pizza and Chantelle wanted it way before they served it. Watch this space for a video link - thanks Jamie.

Bogota
We stayed in Casa Platypus which was nice but pricey, we were however convinced to stay there the whole time due to the most excellent breakfast and the promise of premiership football on a 32 inch screen. We strolled through the old town into the Plaza de Bolivar (every town in each of the 6 countries he liberated has one), watch chess for money, grabbed some churros, look at the Museo Botero to look at plump things, drank 2 for one cocktails, ate an incredible sandwich and a crepe, watched the Covent garden style entertainment, ate chorizo and sipped on hot alcoholic lime juice.
We also met up with Loza who was a welcome edition to the team with her hilarious northern phrase, her meticulously packed bag and her 2 week holiday enthusiasm.
We took all of these things and more of to Cartagena. 

Cartagena
The flight to Cartagena takes 16 hours less than the bus from Bogota and  also costs less. This is no doubt the reason that there were other travelers on the flight, one was a young Australian reading some classic literature. Books have been a great point of contact and discussion throughout the whole trip and once again literature brought us a little star in the name of Sally Dougall. She slotted straight in to the 5 man team and we have been with her ever since. 
Cartagena has got to be one of the most happening and coolest place on the planet. We strolled into the stunning old town with the cool salty sea breeze in our faces and hopes in our hearts as it look like something special. The locals are very beautiful and on this particular evening were all dressed in white and someone mentioned they could be angels. They certainly dance like them as they paired up and the hit the streets to Salsa. I felt both awe and disappointment as I witnessed this spectacle. Awe at the grace and social aspect of something that was such great, innocent fun and that transcends both age and beauty. Disappointment at the fact that we do not have these rehearsed steps to move closer to each other without fear of ridicule and also that it was just so damn cool and I wanted it in my life. When you witness culture in this pure and simple form bringing everyone together smiling it really does warm your soul and make you feel alive. 
We took a day trip to Isla Rosario and Playa Blanca. We were excited to get back on a boat and see some legendary Caribbean beaches. The excitement of being on a boat soon got pretty old after 4 hours and scorching relentless sun. Playa Blanca was the star and as I stepped off the boat an island dweller thrust an oyster in my mouth. Excited to be here and taken in by his smile I gave him the nod and he popped it open, gave a splash of fresh lime and mimicked the necessary slurping action. I did as instructed and was rewarded with a salty and tangy treat. My oyster odyssey was not over as it turns out that they was another one on the other side and before I knew I had another one in my mouth. I was about to walk away when he turned the oyster over and another juicy treat appeared. I could not quite fathom the oyster mystery but was reaching my limit and when I declined he became rather aggressive and started forcing it into mi cara (face), I asserted myself with a firm no gracias but he continued. I started to walk away and he started talking about money. It turned out not to be part of the tour and the amount he was asking for was silly. I offered him a fifth which was still generous and he and a Caribbean woman started to get very close. I started feeling uncomfortable. TRANQUILO, necissito espacio (clam down, I need space) gave me some room to breath and I took out my offered amount and handed it to him. He did not want to take it and kept talking about the higher amount so I made it simple for him and said if he did not want the 1000 pesos I would keep it. He snatched it and walked away. It is a shame that they have to be so aggressive and deceive you when they could clearly state a price and then everyone would know where they stood. 
The actual meal was an island classic of coconut rice, salad and grilled fish served with ice cold sharp lemonade. Jaime and I had snorkeling for dessert and a rather good one it was to. The snorkels were rubbish with mine breaking and Jaime's having a leak. We sorted it out though and ended up seeing amazing fish and a sea snake. Our snorkel was interrupted by the boat  leaving and once again a tour was badly designed, however we did all learn an important thing. That it really was time for the beach. 

That beach turned out to be Palomino and we had an almost perfect 7 days there. We collected fresh fish and lobster in the morning, ate some fresh eggs for breakfast, lounged, read or swam into the afternoon. Hit town for some cold beers and ingredients for the next day, cooked coconut rice and prepared the salad. Swam in both tropical storms and phosphorenscence and had one of the best weeks so far. I know this is very recent and often experiences seem more momentous at the time but it really was a special place there with our own little farm and Carribean family (mama took us under her wing). There were animals aplenty to adore, stroke and fear. Mama even cried when we tipped her and said goodbye. I even bumped into Adam Hill who lives in the same village as me in England!

Colombia really is so far, so great.