In this weeks reader postcard Caleb Appleton does some early
morning shopping in Santiago.
After making it part way through a Dunedin winter, my wife
and I headed on a short trip to South America in August in
search of beef, wine and a culture top-up.
As a chef it is always nice to venture into the world in
search of inspiration and refreshment.
What I found was the answer to all my hard work installing a
new food-safety plan and the meaning of culinary bliss.
Our first stop was Santiago, Chile.
At 4am on a very cold, wet and miserable Tuesday morning,
struggling with jet lag and a substantial time difference, I
set off to Centro Mercedo, Santiago's biggest fish market, to
see the fishmongers ply their trade.
As I walked the dark, flooded and poorly maintained streets,
I couldn't help but notice the abundance of wild dogs, cats
and locals braving the conditions to supply their over-sized
city with produce.
At 4.30am and after a quick three or four coffees, I finally
made it to the markets.
What struck me first was the smell, followed closely by the
wild animals that seemed more eager even than me to taste the
produce.
After a walk around admiring giant Patagonian bass, cod and
shellfish I met my first friend, who in limited English
talked me through what was on offer.
As we talked over a lukewarm Nescafe, I decided it was time
to get my hands dirty.
A race: the Kiwi chef versus the Chilean fishmonger in a
salmon-filleting competition.
Unfortunately, it was the local's day, but there was a polite
cheer from the suppliers around us as I finished a close
second.
I continued around the noisy Centro Mercado, becoming more
and more aware of the cats helping themselves at every stall
to the species of fishon offer.
It had been my aim before heading to Chile to install our new
food-safety programme in my home restaurant, so I wondered
how they could live so happily with wild cats on the fresh
fish.
The answer soon became clear: two friendly elderly woman and
two un-cat-friendly bamboo sticks.
Santiago's own pest control: paid by the fishermen and their
friends to make sure the fish made it to the table and not
the floor.
It was an amusing lesson in hygiene, and a system everyone
was happy with.
As the cafes filled for breakfast and the markets became more
crowded with chefs, suppliers and fish-loving locals, I stood
aside to watch them live the way they do, listening to the
bartering, auctions and trading get louder and louder.
Santiago's population shares a basic and inexpensive cuisine,
but to see how hard they work, the conditions they work in
and the way that locals put so much into providing their
land-locked city with the food they love so much was
admirable and impressive. - Caleb Appleton.
