At two thousand metres above sea-level, it can get cold there. And spooky. At times it's so chilly that sweaters are required, and tropical plants perish. Perfect climate for growing potatoes and carrots, so it was dear to exiled Dutchmen, who thrive on such tubers.
There are "potato plantations" there.
In the tropics potatoes are slightly exotic. Much like wandering Dutchman.
When Dutchmen think of the tropics, various things come to mind. Palm trees and bananas, spicy foods, valuable cash crops like coffee, tea, tobacco, rubber, gutta percha.
Quinine, of course. Sago, taro, and rice.
Potatoes don't jump to the fore.
Among the ghosts of ancient realms, the vibrant heroes, gods, and villains of the historical tales brought to life in shadow plays still performed in villages and the few remaining royal kratons, the most important food crop of Northern Europe is harvested by people for whom 'bangers and mash' (or potato and stockfish, for a different group) are an entirely eccentric concept. Potatoes, as everyone knows, are excellent in curries, with coconut grease and chilies.
Or grated and turned into perkedel (spicy fried patties).
Potatoes, like tomatoes and chilies, are native to the New World, not particularly a significant food in South East Asia. Neither is the familiar orange-hued carrot (first bred in Northern Europe), the turnip, or the ball-cabbage without which Poland would be unthinkable.
Or for instance the rutabaga.
I'm still not convinced that rutabagas aren't entirely fictional, like
Australia. Perhaps they meant the koolraap? Related to the turnip.
Australia. Perhaps they meant the koolraap? Related to the turnip.
Having fallen in love with the Central-American chilipepper, farmers in the Netherlands now grow lombok and tjabeh in hot houses for a substantial domestic market, as well as export.
[Vincent Van Gogh, as is well known, lived entirely on potatoes. Hence his many mental problems. He should have included some chilies and stockfish in his diet; fish is brainfood, and chilies are bursting with vitamins.]
Once, walking through London, I saw several crates of vegetables at a Market. All of them were labelled as originating from Holland. The Dutch export of chili peppers accounts for one sixth of the world total, and is nearly three times that of the United States. We may be so small you mistake us for a booger on your map, but pepper-wise, we're a giant.
It's cold in SF at this time. I doubt that I could live in Holland again, as even here my fingers are often blue (Raynaud's phenomenon). So fittingly, I'm thinking of potato curry for lunch, with rice or noodles, lots of sambal, strong tea. I'll see if that jar of achar in the refrigerator is still edible. Then I'm heading out to smoke my pipe on the frigid wilds of Nob Hill.
With a sweater and a thick coat.
[Potato: Kentang. Chilies: Tjabeh, lombok. Carrot: Bortel. Cabbage: Kol. Coconut: Kelapa. Coconut grease: Minyak kelapa. There is no word for rutabaga. Quod erat demonstrandum.]
I'm also considering the writing of a strongly worded letter to the editor about the horrid temperatures and blaming the younger generation and their beastliness for that.
In my day, this was unheard of.
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