A word on the photos in these posts on Peru. Sorry! They were taken with my iPhone 4, often with poor lighting conditions. I hope you’ll forgive me.
I don’t think I’ve mentioned that the purpose of our trip to Peru was to celebrate a milestone birthday for my husband. That’s okay, because I had a secret agenda that was on par with the stated purpose: it was to find and try some new-to-me ferments. Peru’s best-known ferment is chicha de jora (CHEE-cha day HOR-ah), a type of beer made from malted corn rather than barley and hops, and I’d never seen it in the US so I desperately wanted to try some and get my hands on an authentic recipe.
In our research, we learned that the key to finding chicha was to look for buildings marked with red flower-tipped poles. Those “flowers” turned out to be plastic bags, and we were surprised by just how many thresholds throughout the Sacred Valley had red plastic bags on poles. For me, that was a pretty cool sign that lots and lots of people were fermenting. And indeed, throughout the Sacred Valley, we saw women coming out of countless homes and small bars with giant, plastic, coca-cola bottles filled with frothy, corn-colored liquid. After some debate on which one to visit, we took the recommendation of a local we met at a cafe in the town and headed into what looked like a flower-filled, dirt courtyard through an old wooden gateway. From the outside, it looked pretty and idyllic. It was not.
Inside, all of my rules on sanitary food conditions were actively being broken. There were buckets of foamy liquid on the ground (the chicha we were about to drink), with wet, dirty rags hanging out of them onto the courtyard floor, half-eaten dishes of food sitting out, covered in the flies that were buzzing everywhere, and the chicha-maker herself had so much dirt caked onto and under her nails that I was obliged to look around for the vegetable patch (there wasn’t one). Did I mention that the saliva of the maker is sometimes used to help the starches in the corn to malt? Well, it is. So really, you’d like the person spitting in your drink to at least look clean. But sometimes you just have to swallow your fear (or common sense, or disgust, or a stranger’s corn saliva) and do what your passion requires.
So we drank the enormous glasses of chicha, and its strawberry-infused cousin, fruitillada, which were quite tasty; a little sour, a little sweet, a touch alcoholic. The texture was very viscous, which would probably have been more pleasant to drink if I hadn’t been wondering whether or not this particular chicheria used the saliva method.
We struck up a conversation with a few local laborers enjoying an afternoon brew. They asked us how we liked the Peruvian cuisine and we were happy to answer honestly that it had been fantastic. I felt good that those guys were there, drinking what we were drinking, and I felt confident that the fermentation process would do what it does, and destroy the pathogenic bacteria that were undoubtedly present.
That night, as a mighty, rumbling battle began to rage inside me I felt like an idiot. Why had I risked serious illness for just a taste of something new? Was trying chicha really worth losing valuable travel days in Peru? By the next morning, we knew that the grumbles had been noisy but nothing more. Both my husband and I were fine. We went on to drink chicha in other villages and cities, but since both the spaces and the makers at those spots were clean and tidy, our guts were never tested that way again. As my husband put it once the danger had passed: If I’d had any doubts about the power fermented foods had to protect our guts, they were gone after surviving that chicha.
Have you ever eaten a ferment you weren’t so sure about and lived to tell the tale?
A version of this post originally appeared on FoodRiot.com
Ann says
I’m so impressed in many ways! You tried chicha?!?! I read about that one in Wild Fermentation and I don’t think I’m ready to do that one yet. Even while reading your post I acquired a knot up at the top of my throat. (Though I was also smiling and giggling.)
Then, not only did you try it, you tried it in a not up to American Health Inspector status in a little village first. Shiny, clean, city chicheria second.
Third, you and/or your husband must speak spanish pretty fluently to go and do that. I think that’s fabulous.
And really, what a great husband!!! I hope he enjoyed his birthday!
Amanda says
Hi Ann,
Haha! Don’t be impressed! It was dumb. I really wanted to try chicha, but common sense would’ve been okay. We’d only be in the Sacred Valley for a few days at that point, and one of those days had been at Machu Picchu, so I didn’t have a lot of experience with small town eateries yet. I thought maybe all the chicherias would be that way and I didn’t want to lose out on the chance to try chicha that had been recommended by a local. Turns out that place was the exception! Just like here, there are clean spots and dirty spots and my prejudice led me astray :-). As for Spanish, I do alright. I lived in a city in Spain for a year in college where very few people spoke English, so I got a very quick and thorough practical education. From Peru to Spain just about every noun is different, so I spent a lot of time describing things to people. The Peruvians were met were very kind, though, and usually very excited to chat with foreigners about their country (once we got past an initial reticence), so they didn’t mind the gringa saying, “the kind of clothing that you put on your feet after the soft fabric. It is hard. It covers them and keeps them dry” instead of “shoes.” 🙂 I was feeling pretty bad about my Spanish until we met some Spanish tourists. Then I realized it was more the enormous differences in the languages than my ineptitude.
Thanks for your kind words about my husband. I do agree! 🙂 He had a pretty great birthday. I’m hoping we can schedule another trip to South America soon. I really loved Peru!
Madame Fromage says
Wow, what a wild trip — I enjoyed catching up on your blog just now. What a fascinating story. I’ve heard of chicha and have always been curious. Thanks for exploring and sharing.
Amanda says
Thanks for reading, Madame. I will definitely be making chicha one of these days and I’ll happily share (I promise not to spit in it!).
Michelle says
You can make chicha without spitting in it. Just boil yuca, pull out the stems, then grate some sweet potato (we only have the purple kind here, I’m not sure if regular ones would work) on top of it. Put it out at room temp for a couple of days with a loose cover. 2 days is for mild, not alcoholic chicha. Take a couple of spoonfuls and blend with water, strain and drink. You can refridgerate the rest to stop further fermentation into alcohol. If you can get it to 7 days without getting moldy, that’s what they use for serious partying.
Amanda says
There are many different types of chicha! But corn does generally need some enzymatic help to break down and ferment appropriately. That’s where the spit comes in handy.