Snot yam and hairy chicharrones
Trying new foods is one the experiences I love most about traveling. I’m not picky and not too squeamish. If I refuse to take more than one bite of something, it usually has to do with the texture. Somehow, those brief tastings stick in my mind like baklava to fingertips. The first lip-pursing, eye-squinting, lump-in-my-throat bite that pops into my mind is rice covered with Japanese mountain yam, or snot yam as I like to call it. No single-bite meals in Panama. Panama’s cuisine is delicious and varied right down to each hairy chi-chi-chicharron.
These chicharrones, or deep fried pork chunks, were crisp like pork rinds.
I’d say the hairs are a sign of freshness.
I’d say the hairs are a sign of freshness.
A Panamanian version of chicken soup, sancocho soup is made with a rootcalled ñame which tastes like a potato.
Hojaldre, Panamanian fried bread, is a breakfast favoritesometimes accompanied with a fiery salsa.
After years of sangria sampling in Spain, I think I can recognize a good glass of this fruity mix, and Panama makes a mean brew. Compared to many other Latin American countries, Panama has a lot of typical Spanish dishes on its menus – paella, gambas al ajillo, calamares con salsa alioli, and lots of good sangria to wash it all down. Pictured here also is one of the many types of ceviche I tried.
You don’t have to take too many food risks in Panama. Even the hair on the chicharrones you could eat around.
Beverly! i almost died a little seeing that hairy chicharron…i’m glad you can “eat around” the hair, brave sould
Oh, but *I* ate it – gobble, gobble. Hairless chicharrones are for wimps!