To the Market

I've begun cooking for myself. On Sunday, my host mother took me to the bazaar in town. Now, I've been to the bazaar a number of times, but it was still important to her that she go with me, partly to ensure I get the right prices for things, partly I'm sure because she doubted whether I could tell a good potato from a cumquat. It was actually nice having her there to point me to her usual sellers. The bazaar is a mess on Sundays, as people from all around the region set up shop in a large courtyard/parking lot area. It's packed with people selling their fruits and vegetables on tarps, or out of the trunk of their car, or on the hood of their car, while some bring small wooden tables to set up. The usuals pay for a booth under a hanger, but that's not where the good deals are, I would learn.

Another thing I learned is that Azeri potatoes are better than Pakistani potatoes. My host mother went up and down the rows of vendors, asking where their potatoes were from, and time and time again they would answer Pakistan, knowing full well that that meant she would pass them by. Finally we found Azeri potatoes, and I am now the proud owner of 2 kilos of them.

I also bought:
Cilantro
Spinach
Lentils
Rice
Spaghetti
Eggs
Garlic
Salt and Pepper
Dish Soap and Scrubber
Laundry Detergent
My own teapot
Olive Oil
Butter

If you know any good recipes, I am all ears. My first real meal was fried rice, which turned out well considering there was almost no gas for the flame. It got cold again here, and the gas was being used by people most of the day. Come back, spring weather!