Fresh!

One of the items solidly located in the "pro" column on our mental "Living in Africa" list would be all the fresh food we're able to get here. Note, "fresh" also means all those exotic little African germs are alive and well, but after disinfecting, the stuff is wonderful.

Here's one of our many guards who shimmy up our avocado tree for harvest time. I might sound slightly like a product of the American litigation system when I ask more than once, "You're being safe, right?" Patrick, the guard in this photo, laughed at another guard climbing another tree this past weekend, saying the guy was just an oversized mango.

I always call the kids outside when it's time to get some avocadoes; they love watching the guard in the tree.

Speaking of fresh, check out the size of the snails here, like this one that the kids found in the meantime.

Yum. These things are almost the size of J.'s head. And we always get enough to share, which is a perfect relationship-builder.

Our awesome housekeeper, Oliver, has been going weekly downtown to purchase our produce--where all of the vendors in Kampala get theirs, so she gets fantastic prices direct from the farmers. She found all this for about $13.

There's a dairy farm that brings milk to a home about half a mile from our house. I walk down on the weekends, when they have more milk since they're not selling it to schools. I take my own containers and purchase six liters of milk to last us the week--enough to drink and make some yogurt. (I was counseled to find a place that didn't dilute the milk to make more money. Good advice.) This means we get fresh cream to make a little butter, too. The interesting thing is walking back with all the milk; let's just say I've had to change my shirt more than once.

Moses, our fishmonger, visits on Tuesdays. He purchases the ngege, or tilapia, from Lake Victoria, and I just tell him how many I want when he arrives. You say "fill-et" here, because "fill-ay" means it comes with the bones. Moses knows just where to cut to remove even the finest fishbones.

 Here's where the African part comes in. He makes a day-long route around the neighborhood on his boda with a wooden box full of fish on the back. I am currently the last house on the route--meaning he arrives around five--but Oliver is trying to improve my status. I pick out which fish I'd like, make sure the price is fair, and he guts and filets them right there on top of the box, placing them on the plastic plate I bring out. A little crude where I come from, yes. But baby, that fresh fish is good.

It's inspired us to try out some new fish recipes, and we've found some remarkable ones worth passing on...as long as I'm willing to substitute and ingredient here and there: fish tacos, italian breaded tilapia, and pan-seared. 

Can you taste it?! Fresh is a significant perk.