The panadería's pudgy pauper

@wwaycorrigan

[For an audio version of this blog story click here.]

A boy, about 12 years old, regularly comes into one of my panadería offices asking for food.

Unfortunately, such a scene is not unusual in these parts.

Rather than helping the bread-begging boy, are we killing him softly?

Pan out

However, what makes this particular pauper stand out from the stream of other mendicants is that he seems well, nay overly, fed and is rather neat in appearance. Also, he doesn't appear — thankfully enough, especially considering his youth — to have a drug problem.

He might, though, have a sweet-bread addiction. This would help to explain both his pudginess and penchant for the panadería.

Now, before I am accused of being both cruel and a hypocrite — I've previously documented my predilection for certain panadería delights — I'm not completely begrudging the boy of this farinaceous favour.

An occasional — occasional that is — bit of bread isn't the worst thing he could consume. And because he's plump doesn't mean he's sufficiently satiated.

One concern, however, is that if his diet consists chiefly of highly processed bread, then he's most likely facing into an adulthood of health problems.

Were I to offer him a serving of one of my vegetable stew specials, I wager he'd turn it down. (He never actually approaches me, though. I must have a mean look to me.)

So, there's a chance that he's a foti — fat on the outside, thin on the inside — but in a negative way (the standard view is that a foti is healthier than a tofi, thin on the outside, fat on the inside). This is to say, he's not getting the right nutrition. He's got plenty of company on that front.

'It's a sign that I've been in Colombia too long that I have doubts about the bona fides of the boy's begging.'

Indeed, most of the fare on offer in Colombia's ten-a-peso panaderías should come with a health warning. In addition to high quantities of salt and/or sugar glued together with poor-quality flour, the majority of bakeries use what are in essence poisonous margarines and preservatives.

The giveaway is in the shelf-life. I don't think I've ever seen panadería products go mouldy. One can only wonder what these powerful preservatives do to one's microbiome.

Beg to differ

As for eating wholesomely, some argue that pursuing a healthy diet is far more difficult for society's less well-off. Unhealthier foods are cheaper and more convenient.

That doesn't fully hold true in Colombia. Here, when it comes to diet, it's not always money that does the talking. Convenience often does the "conversing", coupled with, I guess, cravings.

This is because one can buy fresh fruit and vegetables at competitive prices all year round.

Colombia's fruit & veg: Cheap-ish and cheerful (if they're not overly laden with chemicals).

In my part of Bogotá, it's common to see a range of such foodstuffs retailing at around 1,000 pesos per pound — bananas, butternut squash, carrots, green beans, papaya, peppers, potatoes, pumpkin, tomatoes and much more besides.

Throw in the amazing avocado, regularly on offer for five for 2,000 pesos, and we've got the makings of a fairly cheap salubrious snack. (One only hopes, naively perhaps, that these natural goodies aren't laden with harmful pesticides.)

OK, fish, meat and poultry aren't quite as economical but they're not off the charts either, not when compared to what one might fork out for a nutritionally poor panadería treat.

This is why I say convenience and cravings do the conversing, not monetary concerns.

Fair enough, not everyone has access to kitchen facilities to cook food from scratch. And Colombia's worst-paid urban workers often have little free time on a typical day. Between the commute and work itself, 14-hour shifts are common.

As for my panadería's pudgy pauper, I'd have to engage in some espionage to find out his exact circumstances.

A sign, perhaps, that I've been in Colombia for too long that I have doubts, owing to his overall demeanour, about the bona fides of his begging.

Would he take a banana as readily as he takes a bit of bread? Maybe if it was deep-fried he would.
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Hooked on the BBC (or CCP, if you will)

@wwaycorrigan

[Listen to an audio version of this blog entry here.]

It's often how it goes. A person overcomes one addiction then another, for better or for worse, comes along to fill the void. (For background, see Coming clean on my Colombian.)

Just can't enough of that good old BBC ...

China in my hand

To be truly accurate — as I always strive to be — my current BBC addiction isn't actually new. I more than dabbled in it in my Ireland days. It's just that it has become particularly acute here in Colombia.

I think I'd find it very hard to live in the country, or Bogotá at least, without it. Be it work or pleasure, this BBC or, for those of another tongue, CCP fix has become a cornerstone of pretty much everything I do.

Now some people would say it's not the worst addiction in the world to have, as long as one doesn't rely on it solely. And I don't. I do balance it out.

Nevertheless, one could always do better when it comes to such things. Indeed, a good test to see how reliant — perhaps harmfully so — one has become on something is to try to do without it. On this score, well just the mere thoughts of doing without the BBC for any protracted period make me uncomfortable (protracted in this sense is in the region of 48 hours).

You see the BBC — Beer, Bread and Coffee, or its Spanish equivalent for where I'm based and following alphabetical order, CCP (Café, Cerveza y Pan), not to be confused with the Chinese Communist Party — is a staple for me.

'Some say it's the only time Colombian bread from a standard panadería is edible, when it's still warm from baking.'

It's the bread and coffee part in particular that I can't see myself easily giving up — if there was a desire to do so, that is. The beer, on the other hand, well unlike the other two, it's not a daily delight.

I also think that in the right circumstances and/or environment i.e. having my own comfortable accommodation and not living in Bogotá, I could relatively easily get by without beer. Or at least drink less. Going without bread and coffee is another thing altogether.

This is the problem — some may not view it as a problem per se — when one uses a panadería/bakery as an office on a daily basis. It's like an alcoholic going to work in a pub.

OK, a good coffee or three a day may, as some studies have shown, do more good than harm to one's overall health. The same can't really be said for the bread on the side, not the majority of bread baked in Colombia in any case. (Dr Pradeep Jamnadas wouldn't be impressed.)

'There are, however, worse addictions to have, such as CNN.'

Yet, the floured fusions are hard to resist, especially so when they've just come hot out of the oven.

In fact, some say it's the only time Colombian bread from a standard panadería is edible, when it's still warm from baking. After a day or so, regardless of the type really, it seems to become fairly bland. (Although, worryingly so as it suggests the bread is pumped with preservatives, it doesn't tend to mould.) Similar to some women I've dated here, it could be said.

'I can't believe it's not coffee!'

Regarding my daily coffee, the quality of it in my current "office" is, as far as I'm concerned, as good as you'll get in some of the more renowned establishments. Snootier types, however, might turn their noses up at it. There's an assumption, based on a long history of this being the case in fairness, that panadería coffee is ordinary at best.

The greca: Wanted for crimes against good coffee. (Image from https://laferiadelagreca.com.)

Thankfully, though, a good number of panaderías have embraced machine brewers, consigning those metal grecas with their tendency to produce tasteless, I-can't-believe-it's-not-coffee coffee to the scrapyard. (Personally, this has become more important over the last few years as my brew preferences have changed. It's no longer an 80/20 coffee/milk split, it's more like 99/1. Thus, the coffee has to be flavoursome and strong.)

As for the beer, well Poker — or on occasions Águila or Costeña or, when in Paisa land, Pilsen (they're all pretty much the same) — could win awards for being one of the best and reasonably priced mediocre lagers around. It humbly does its job.

In this regard, like the BBC media group and the political CCP my BBC — the beer and bread anyway — is of ordinary quality. Perhaps not the greatest but not the worst either.

It's also killing me softly, no doubt. Sure aren't we on the countdown to death from the moment we're born anyway?

There are, however, worse addictions to have.

With CNN — cocaine, noodles and Nutella — for instance, one is left brain-dead within days. That diet combination may seem nonsensical. But that's CNN for you.
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Listen to Wrong Way's Colombia Cast podcast here.

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Coming clean on my Colombian addiction

OK. I admit it. I'm addicted.

For over a year, I thought I had it under control. The discipline and routine that a full-time job gave me saw my dependence on this reduce dramatically.

However, then came the double hit. The first was self-inflicted: resigning from said gainful employment. That was followed shortly by coronavirus and the resultant quasi-lockdown.

Crossing the line

In my bid to maintain some sort of routine in such uncertain times I once again found myself drifting, nay motoring at top speed, back to this old daily comfort. 

For sure, it's as Colombian (although, not exclusively so) as coffee — indeed, the two work well together — yet for some locals, the mere utterance of its name brings forth utter revulsion. 'Is that all this country means to you these days? You disgust me.'

Of course, it's not the only thing that I enjoy — if enjoy is the right word to use here — about Colombia, but I've only ever had it in this country. And no, I didn't come here specifically for it.

In fact, and you may not believe this, but I'd never heard of it before relocating to this part of the world. I first tried it out of pure, innocent curiosity. Unlike other "firsts", I don't fully remember where I was introduced to it. I think it may have been in one of my original local haunts in the La Perseverancia neighbourhood, although I can't say with any certainty.

What I do know is that it became much more of a habit when I moved to the northern reaches of Bogotá and started socialising in Barrio Santandercito. In one particular establishment, it was especially popular and readily available, at a very reasonable price.

You could have it on the premises — no questions asked, no one would take any notice bar the odd incredulous look if you were overindulging — or take it home to have later. I preferred to have it there and then, it's just not the same doing it at home alone.

That Santandercito outlet has since changed hands and the new administrators no longer sell it — they told me, rather surprisingly, that the profit margins were quite small compared to other, more "mainstream" products that require less preparation time.

'It gives me a kick at the moment of consumption but I do feel guilty, even a little shame, afterwards.'

Nonetheless, you generally don't have to go far in Bogotá to find another place where you can get it. My current dealer is based in Barrio Nueva Zelandia. It's a little pricier here compared to what it used to be in Santandercito, but you get a slightly bigger offering.

Ideally, it'd be best sold by weight as at times you think you've been handed a big one but once you start consuming it you realise there's a lot of air in it. It still goes down well all the same.

Perhaps some bigger operators sell it — if they have it at all that is — by weight, I'm not sure. Truth is, I've never looked for it in such places, I prefer to deal with independent, family-run providers.

Snorting like a pig

I've been trying to cut down on the amount I have these last couple of weeks but it hasn't been easy. I mean I don't even have to ask for it now, it's just handed to me. When I say I don't want that much, those selling it to me typically say, 'Sure go on, it'll do you no harm. Get it into you.'

Thing is, with the doses I'm consuming, I'm pretty sure it is doing me harm.

If I could get out of Bogotá for a few days, I could at least get a break from it. Out of sight, out of mind kind of thing. But, of course, with the measures in place to combat the spread of coronavirus, I can't leave the city.

For sure, I get a kick at the moment of consumption but I do feel guilty, even a little shame, afterwards.

Another pull factor is that in its purer form it's not actually that bad — studies even suggest it can be good for our health (see item number eight on this list). How I take it, though, it's mixed with stuff that is, to say the least, not great for one's body.

It is said the first step in solving a problem is admitting you have one. I'm crossing that hurdle.

I won't let pan chicharrón (for the ignorant amongst us, this is basically bread filled with pork scratchings — or pork cracklings as some may call it — best served straight out of the oven) control me. I shall control it. There is a way.

Pan chicharrón with a dark perico (coffee with a dash of milk), pure bliss!

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Listen to Wrong Way's Colombia Cast podcast here.

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