Cooking Arroz con Pollo in Uganda.

In my dogged efforts to infiltrate East African food with spices (food here is somehow bereft of any flavor whatsoever, would you like steamed underripe bananas, steamed white rice or boiled bland beans?) I have landed myself in a predicament. I have become Mbale Town's lone and sought after Mexican chef. Since most people I have cooked for barely know the country exists, let alone any iota of its culinary content, this is surprising. It all started with my frustration in the lack of taste of the food staples. "Why don't I show you how we make rice where I live?' I asked sweetly, knowing my palate would get its way. Minutes later there were onions, garlic and chilis sizzling on the cook stove. Add a little rice and toast it up with salt, cumin, pepper and tomato paste and Voila - the delicious scent of home filled the tiny unlit kitchen, teasing and tantalizing passersby.

The flip side of my joy is I have spent 6 hours in the last two days preparing Mexi-African meals in two different homes and I'm getting a little sick of arroz con pollo (when there is a fresh dead pollo, of course) refritos, chapatti (slightly oily, tortilla-like Ugandan bread) guacamole and salsa. Not to mention the backache of leaning over the small charcoal stoves and various miniscule burns from eager oil jumping from the pots. But despite my minor annoyance over manual labor (it is worlds more difficult to cook here), just smelling and tasting the familiar is worth it all. And maybe, just maybe... Ugandans will adopt some of the flavors of my 'exotic' foods they love so much. Maybe there will be a taco stand squeezing out fresh tortillas (ah the smell!) in five years...

I won't hold my breath, but a senorita can dream.