A cevap by any other name…

Yesterday, after a somewhat film-wise failed expedition to the Sarajevo Film Festival (thank you HT-Eronet and not living in Sarajevo), I was surprised to find in my friend Dzenan’s apartment a wok. A wok containing some delicious, though probably day if not several day old stir fry. It made me realize how sick I am of cevape. Yes, I said it. I’m sick of cevape and all other forms of grilled meat. It becomes clearer each moment that a vegetarian diet or at least one centered more around the veg is far more rewarding gastronomically. Of course, I could just be spoiled by the years I have spent in New York among restaurants and my sister’s most awesome cooking. It seems to me that each meatish product around here stems from the same meat–spice and all. A hamburger tastes like and is pretty much a pljeskavica which itself tastes much like a cevap. And then there’s the sausage and the salami and the badly packed cold cuts that oze nasty juice every time you open a package. I’m stuck with these various meats and their by products. What’s more is the cheeses all taste the same. For example, there’s a certain type of cheese marketed under the name of Tost and looks like good ole American Kraft Singles, nauseaous orange color included, but it tastes exactly like Laughing Cow or what would be Zdenka here. It doesn’t even have the same texture as its American cousin and is on the edge of being spreadable.

All of the blame can be put on the awful economy and political chaos that’s reigning in Olovo. The stores are lacking in a myriad of products which might just enrich not only people’s lives but their diets as well. Other places are totally fine in regards to foodstuffs and other products. We passed through Zenica recently on the way to a mountaineering thing and we stopped at one of the country’s leading supermarkets, Konzum. Yes, Bosnia has supermarkets, and they’re not just your run-of-the-mill supermarkets, they’re mega shopping centers where along with your, say, Konzum, comes a pretty technologically advanced mini-mall. I know, I know, I’m supposed to be against these things, but in this case it seems like they’re a sign and a road to progress. Where else am I going to find soy sauce (I speculate on this) and tortilla chips? Not in Olovo. The problem could be fixed if someone actually cared to do their job around here, but until then, or at least until I move to Sarajevo, I have to settle for my Tost, my shady salami, and the all-powerful cevap.

 

Side note: I may have a food problem. I should have been a critic, methinks.