As you may know, my brother, my only sibling, is on a solo motorcycle trip to South America. He has had some pretty amazing adventures through incredible scenery like active volcanos and skinny, winding roads alongside huge cliffs. He’s not the kind of guy who stays at the Ritz and closes himself off from life. His goal is to experience as much local colour as possible and that includes taking some gastronomical gallops through territory so far uncharted by most North American tummies.
Yesterday in Ecuador he ate some local fare. Guinea pig. Yes, the furry little critters that your children so lovingly feed and raise are covering the plates of Ecuadorians. Apparently it doesn’t taste like chicken. It tastes like guinea pig. I will spare you some of the other details he shared but as you can see, he’s quite pleased to have had this experience.
His big sister has no similar urge to feed on small housepets or anything else of that nature. I think we eat too many creatures as it is but, hey, I also don’t live in Ecuador. Maybe chickens are hard to come by but guinea pigs are in danger of overtaking the countryside. My brother and I differ in many ways but I love him to bits and I’m thrilled that he’s on this adventure. And he’ll just have to accept boring old beef or poultry the next time he’s over for dinner.