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Wednesday, January 26, 2011

Eat

Im back in Brasil. And there have been many wonderful moments and discoveries and all those great feelings you expect to experience in a foreign country. But theres one thing Im doing like Ive never done before. Eat. Eat alot, all the time. Its not that the food is fantastic and I just cant help myself. Its just, well, I never refuse whats offered to me. But now that Im reflecting, someone should have just offered me a fatter ass and some thigh jiggle on a platter, and saved me the nights of bloating and burping.
Brasilians dont eat like Canadians do. They dont calorie count, or monitor portion control. They eat when theyre hungry and do so until theyre full. Breakfast, or cafe de moyen is taken when you wake up. Fruit, coffee with lots of sugar, and some bread. Never much more. The magic happens at Amoso, or lunch between 2 and 3 pm. This is the real deal. Piles of rice and beans and beef and more rice and more beans and bread and fried cassava, fried plolenta, fried banana, fried chicken. Its all washed down with fresh fruit juice mixed with piles of sugar.
After amoso, I think to make sure the fat reaches even my feet, a long nap is standard.
When you rise, fresh coffee is next, and its usually accompanied by fresh buns spread thick with butter. After an especially good nap, I have two.
I dont know what it is. Ive never indulged like this before. Im not obsessed with my weight, and I dont count the calories in my celery sticks, but Ive never eaten with such reckless abandon. Its wonderful.
Dinner, or genter comes late. Never earlier than 9pm. Its usually left overs from lunch. But if its a special occasion, or just a lovely night, a bbq is likely to happen. That means the most tender juicy beef your tastebuds can imagine. It means cheese on a stick that gets all crispy and greasy on the outside and melty and devine on the inside. It means more rice. It means more beans. And it always means beer. Itiapava, Brahma, Skool, Bohemia.... Drink, eat, drink, eat. Late into the night.
My boyfriend likes to eat at Tonys Pizza after he skateboards. If we dont order a three cheese pizza and devour the whole thing, we eat Pastels- fried pastry with melted mozzeralla and other yummy things oozying around inside.
And what do you think I say when he asks me if I want another one....
On the street you can buy fried potato balls with cheese in the center. You can buy thick pastries with gooey cream cheese. The hot dogs have an entire seperate meal served on top of them.
So, I eat and I eat. Because I wont eat like this at home. And because it feels wonderful.
I will deal with the my fatter ass when I return to my self obsessed nation. Treadmills will be easier to find than pastels.

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