One thing you will definitely not find on American shelves, and maybe not on any others outside of Colombia and Japan (undisputed capitol of gonzo flavors) are mayonnaise flavored chips. Here they show up in a version produced by the local Lays affiliate Margarita, as well as a Ruffles variant, which I ate and found surprisingly subtle. Mayonnaise seems to show up here as part of salsa rosada (aka ‘salsa golf,’ hinting at its country club, Euro-imported roots), similar to the sauce that overpowers Colombian ceviche, and which usually gets doused onto hot dogs or French fries, a short leap over to a chip flavoring. As in Japan, it seems that the late-era introduction of this eggy condiment invalidates any of the innate taboos we might have with pouring it onto unfamiliar surfaces, leaving it as just another delicious topping to be freely applied.
A similar type of exhibition is on display at Portal de Dulces, an open-air sweets market which sits near the city’s old main gate, where a slave market was once located. As with the Palenqueras, the vendors here are primarily Afro-Colombian, and exist in a sort of anti-modern stasis that's halfway between life-sized diorama and throwback market. Blacks in Colombia have a long historical affiliation with sugarcane cutting and production, which is what I assume has made them into the keepers of the local sweets tradition, even long after the source of the product has moved elsewhere. Befitting their close connection with the cane, these candies (like many desserts here) were way too intense for my American palette, on the level of Indian sweets in terms of cloying punch, the tamarind balls, coconut cakes and other delicacies remaining delicious as long as I nibbled carefully. As for Afro-Colombians, they make up the majority of the city’s population but still seem marginalized, a persistent problem throughout Latin America and the Caribbean, where years of Spanish-instituted racism have created a distressingly color-graded social scale.
Arequipe: Primarily focused on the savory, I tended to give short shrift to sweets on my journey. Thus I missed out entirely on fresh arequipe, the local equivalent to dulce de leche. I’ve tasted fresh caramel enough to not feel too bad about this omission, but I probably should have made time for the Frisbee-esque obleas, an omnipresent street snack which are filled either with this or raspberry, although some seem to have deferred to the more modern choice of Nutella. I also missed out on bocadilla, a guava and panela sweet usually presented on the street in the form of little sandwiches, paired with stripes of soft white cheese. Salpicón fruit cocktails were so common in Bogotá that I sloughed them off until Cartagena, where I found that they practically did not exist at all (at least, I never saw one). I also did not spot a single cholado during my stay in country, although research has since show that this is more of a southern thing, and I came across a fair share of simpler raspaos without fruit. I also did not see a single aborrajado, the cheese-stuffed plantain fritter also known to contain guava paste on occasion. Finally, for all the dozens of arepas I consumed here, I did not manage to eat what may be the bread’s purest form, as part of the street-sold trinity of egg and cheese, the latter two ingredients cooked in its bready bosom atop a hot griddle. I made an effort to search out the famed Arepa Lady of Cartagena, but unfortunately she was not in her usual spot.
Hormigas Culonas: These Big Ass Ants (literally, their butts are huge) were a long shot, supposedly localized to Bucaramanga during the fall (March/April) season, but I kept an eye out anyway. Supposedly an aphrodisiac, the bug bites were not sighted during my trip, a blessing in disguise, since I wasn’t too excited about eating an entire bag of these by myself.
Lechona: This whole stuffed hog preparation was not an especial priority, since it was both so heavy and so commonly available (in various, differing forms) elsewhere in the Caribbean. One highlight was watching an entire cooked pig, contained inside a giant plastic box, as it was carted through the streets, through a roving fair/market that spanned several dozen blocks.
Lomo al Trapo - As I stated earlier, I didn’t spend much time at meat-heavy establishments, which may explain why I didn’t see Lomo al Trapo (beef tenderloin wrapped in a towel) anywhere. A fittingly thorough recipe from Serious Eats, however, saves the day.
Refajo: Not a huge fan of beer and soda mixtures, and Colombiana is indeed a punishingly sweet brew (as most Latin American sodas seem to be) but I would have at least liked to have tried one refajo. Alas, I didn’t see these anywhere.
Sopa de Mondongo: Missed out on this pan-Caribbean stew, and while it exists in ample form back here in New York, I haven’t managed to try it here yet either. Similarly, missed out on the sweaty delights of Pollo Sudado.
Turtle with Eggs: A bit burnt out after the Paloquemao, I avoided the notorious Basurto market, in the darkest corners of which can be found this possibly contraband dish. An image sourced from Andrew Zimmern’s Pinterest page hints at a cruel ‘happy family’ style pairing that seems a bit much even for me, however.
That about covers it. A hearty thanks to MyColombianRecipes for providing a voluminous baseline of information to convey what I had eaten here. Thanks to Colombia for being such a welcoming, easily navigable place. I’m less than two months away from a 15-day stay in Southern India and Mumbai, an event I imagine will be so action-packed that I’ll probably need to attempt a different approach (daily capsule diaries?) for chronicling it.