Origins, part 4: My first solo international trip to SE Asia.
How my philosophy of reckless omnivorousness started.
It still was not at all clear that cheese would be a path I would continue to follow. In 2015 I left the country for my first international trip, four months solo through Southeast Asia. Just a backpack, a pair of sandals, and about 5k in my bank account. I flew into Cambodia and immediately fell in love with and thrived on the altered state of conscious induced by being in a radically new place. It was a thrilling, out of body experience, having to adjust and adapt, figuring out how to get around and function in an unfamiliar culture. I hitchhiked into Thailand, taking trains from Bangkok down to the famous islands of Kho Tao and Kho Phangan. My philosophy towards food, tasting, and cooking was altered as I learned to be highly omnivorous. It started with cucumbers.
I had never liked cukes. They had always seemed tasteless. Watery. Boring. Kind of gross, in a vague and underwhelming way. Nearly everything you order in Cambodia comes with little slices of cold cucumber and green tomato. So I started eating them because I was trying to spend as little money as possible, and would polish off whatever was on my plate. The cukes in an American grocery store are awful. In Cambodia I was eating heirloom varieties bred to actually taste and be good! They were small, had more flavor, a pleasantly crisp texture, and accompanied the spicy noodle and rice dishes wonderfully. Served cold, they hit the spot in a hot tropical climate, and were the perfect companion to the other elements of Cambodian cuisine which emphasizes salty pork dishes, warming spices similar to those used in Vietnam, fermented fish, and spicy chile/garlic/pepper sauces.
It was an epiphany. It wasn’t that cucumbers were boring and gross, I just hadn’t had good ones, in a context conducive to what they offer. I had learned to like them, because I was open to liking them. You aren’t just born a picky eater, it’s not a genetic trait. It’s a choice, like wearing purple shoes, or being an asshole. This openness to novel culinary experiences and learning to like food I wasn’t attracted to became a major part of my philosophy towards cheese. Food was how I would explore a place and culture, by dropping my ingrained predilections and seeking out regional cuisines and beverages. The different and challenging, the foods outsiders generally did not like. Through this, I could expand my palate, expose myself to as wide of range of flavor and texture combinations as possible, enriching my gastronomic frame of reference. Always with a focus on the fermented.
The only plan for Cambodia was to visit the famous archeological site of Angkor Wat. I settled into a hostel in Siam Reap, rented a little electric scooter, and would drive up into the world heritage site/amusement park every morning before sunrise. I found that if I went out to the more remote, less tantalizing sites this early, I could have a few hours of near solitude, before the hordes of sunblock clad, selfie-stick idiots cruised in, smelling like deodorant and fear. I would then drive back to the hostel as the day got hot around 10 am, and sleep until a few hours before sunset, when I would head back into the park. Forever, I will be captivated and inspired by visiting the ruins of ancient empires. To see the trees and jungle vines coursing through the blocks, reminds us who is really in charge. Walking through American cities, I see future Angkor Wats, built of less durable materials. This too shall pass.
It was aimless wandering, and it felt good. I moved into Thailand, and ate duck noodles before riding trains down to take a ferry out to some islands. Into Malaysia, where I did my first workaway, volunteering on a small farm/food forest in the hills. I got to harvest fruit, roast coffee, and enjoy one of the most fascinating cuisines in the world. I flew on to Indonesia, volunteered at a little beach clean-up project, and surfed every day. To Bali, just eating, poking around sacred springs and temples, laying on the beach, getting comfortable with extended international travel, learning how to do it while spending very little. This will be crucial for understanding how the finances of the early Milk Trekker trips worked.
Back to the concept of deconditioning my culturally-induced culinary biases. As this trip wound down in the Phillipines, I pushed this theory far, seeking out a famous delicacy known as balut. This is a duck egg in which the fetus is allowed to develop before steaming the egg for an extended time. I met a two bit pimp who asked me “are you lookin for a girlfriend?” And I was like “No, I’m looking for balut”. We walked through markets asking for it, people looking at me like I was on the wrong side of town with a dangerous criminal. I nearly gagged on the first bite, until I was instructed to pour a bit of vinegar onto it. Balut is like hard boiled egg meets organ meat. Trying everything once is not my way. I say try everything like ten times. Try new foods that you don’t understand over and over, until you find a preparation that you enjoy. Or that at least makes sense. I had balut again in a restaurant. My new Philipino friend asked the server to go buy some on the street, then added it to our platter. Once we cut it up and mixed it into our meat and rice, it made sense. It’s richer than a regular egg, like a sprouted grain.
What was disgusting was mainly my preconceptions, reactions to its visual appearance, and the aroma before I masked it with vinegar. I can’t say I learned to enjoy balut, but I learned to not be revolted by it, and saw how it fits into the cuisine, that people seemed to enjoy it. This gave me a quick little insight that is now a mantra: “what attracts and repels us about food is psychologically and culturally determined. We usually decide whether we are going to enjoy a food or not before we put it in our mouth.” I guess I need to try it again.
These years that felt like aimless wandering actually turned out to be formative, crucial steps of my journey. I’m thankful I allowed myself this space, and made these life decisions somewhat impulsively. The circle slowly expanded outward, as I traveled the US, and then in other countries. I hadn’t combined cheese and travel explicitly yet, but the groundwork was laid, the momentum was building. Like a wheel of cheese rolled down a hill being chased by hungry pigs, there was only one way to go. After it.
As always, love your evocative writing and articulate insights
I've been here 15 years and refuse to eat an aborted duck fetus! haha.