Ecuador via Jackson Heights, Queens: Eating Laura’s Childhood Pet

LAURA: Around this time 28 years ago, I received a fluffy little guinea pig in my Easter basket. Shortly thereafter, our St. Bernard Dutchess ate it, and I’ve been haunted by the memory ever since. For those who slept through Psychology 101 or aren’t familiar with the life and career path of Jenna Jameson, victims of childhood trauma often unconsciously recreate their traumatic experiences in adulthood. Which is how, I suppose on some level, we ended up eating guinea pig right around Easter time at El Pequeno in Queens.

ADAM: Known as “Cuy” in South America, guinea pigs are an important source of protein in several countries across the Andes Mountains, where cows and swine dare not roam. Families feed the little buggers vegetable scraps and raise them kind of like cattle. (Tiny, tiny cattle.) And unlike bothersome cows that swamp families with more meat then they can quickly consume after slaughter, guinea pigs are thoughtful enough to gird their bones with nothing but the perfect serving size.

LAURA: When Ecuadorians aren’t munching on guinea pigs, they’re using them to diagnose and treat diseases. Shamans use the critter-of-all-trades in healing rituals, a process that involves rubbing the furball over a patient’s body and then slicing it open to “read” its insides, which tells the hippie healer what’s wrong with the patient—not the least of which is the fact that someone is seeking medical advice from a rodent.

ADAM: When our personal guinea meal arrived, its crispy, snarling face was accompanied by a platter piled with fava beans, a ball of fried mashed potatoes, and Ecuadorian corn (both fried and steamed). Although they basically tasted like the corn we’re used to (just maybe a bit blander and mealier), the Ecuadorian corn kernels were super-huge, so obviously we used them to make uproarious beaver impressions.

LAURA: We chowed on our guinea pig’s flesh, ears and brains, a full-body feast indistinguishable from a sewer rat roasted over a garbage fire (we assume). To see us demolish the little guy (and see our ugly taste faces), watch the video above!

Eats Deets
El Pequeno Coffee Shop
86-10 Roosevelt Ave (Jackson Heights, Queens)
(718) 205-7128

LAURA: When I think of Tibet, the first thing that comes to mind is a certain bronzed idol who is spiritually enlightened and is worshiped by millions. That’s right, I think of Richard Gere. So in our journey to find Tibet in the Big Apple, we just had to ask ourselves: “What Would Richard Do?” Turns out, he would haul ass to Jackson Heights and grab a table at the Himalayan Yak Restaurant, a restaurant that serves, as you might suspect, cuisine from the Himalayan region, including Nepali, Indian, and Tibetan dishes. Luckily, the menu was organized according to country, so it was easy to stay focused on our Tibetan task at hand (and mouth).

ADAM: Some pre-eats info: Tibet has an average elevation of 16,000 feet, making it the highest country in the world. Veggies and rice tend not to grow at that elevation, so their food is heavy on meat and dairy. And yak.

LAURA: The high elevation also means that the water boils around 90 degrees Celsius, which makes cooking things like noodles with H20 nearly impossible and explains why you never see Buddhist monks eating Domino’s Pasta in a Bread Bowl.

ADAM: Which is unfortunate because those bread bowls will take you to Nirvana! Um, OK, onto the meal: We started with an app of dhoepa khatsa (below), which stars beef stomach, aka tripe. Cut into strips and doused in a chili sauce, the tripe was kinda like chewing on rubber. But, you know, spicy rubber. Laura totally pushed her bits to the side of her plate to make it look like she’d eaten more than she had.

LAURA: It’s a trick I used growing up when the dog wasn’t around to eat my unwanted scraps! We also started with an order of laphing, a cold “bean jelly,” which in no way should be mistaken for jelly beans. Coated with a mixture of garlic, ginger, red pepper, and soy sauce, it resembled a Jell-O fruit salad your grandma might make, only instead of fruit cocktail, the blind ol’ coot mistakenly dumped in a jar of salsa.

ADAM: To quaff this all down, we ordered a cup of bocha, a traditional Tibetan butter tea. To make it, the Tibetans mix hot tea with salt and melted butter. That warrants repeating: TO MAKE IT THEY MIX TEA WITH MELTED BUTTER.

LAURA: It’s Paula Deen’s favorite drink!

ADAM: It was like drinking movie theater popcorn butter. Until it started to cool and congeal. Then it was like drinking congealed movie theater popcorn butter.

LAURA: For one of our main courses, we had yak sha momo (right), dumplings that starred our favorite shaggy-haired ox. It tasted like delicious lamb meatballs, enveloped in a steamed pouch of dough. This was my favorite dish, because it was the only one that wasn’t overwhelmingly spicy.

ADAM: I preferred our second yak dish, Yak cheley, which is yak tongue, sliced and sauteed with garlic, ginger, onion and bell peppers, then served with a side of tingmo (steamed bread). It had a very Chinese food-y taste. But unlike the yak in the dumplings, the tongue actually tasted like beef. Which means French kissing a yak would probably be delicious.

LAURA: We didn’t have room for dessert, a shame considering ending on a yak note resulted in extremely potent yak burps.

ADAM: Yeah, final revelation: Yak burps smell like yak feet.

Eats Deets:
Himalayan Yak Restaurant
7220 Roosevelt Ave, Queens
(718) 779-1119