Oi cuy...

Well, it had to happen at some point.  I couldn't travel through Peru and not sample the local speciality... guinea pig.  This small rodent, known as cuy, is ubiquitous in these parts.  The many local houses I've been in invariably have a section used for rearing cuy.  These are usually near the wood burning stoves and ovens which provide the heat needed to keep these little blighters comfortable, thereby allowing them to grow big, strong and furry.

To be honest, I copped out a little bit.  A restaurant in Cusco known as Korma Sutra lists tandoori cuy on their menu.  This appeared to be a more palatable way to approach this culinary challenge.  Most of the cuy I've seen had been roasted in ovens with resulting crispy-looking skin.  This also means a crispy looking face which is very hard for the eyes to avoid whilst eating.  On the plus side, they go straight from cuyeria to the kitchen providing fresh meat from an animal that, to all appearances, has led a very happy life with its friends and family.  However, that knowledge did not help my stomach prepare for this less-than-tempting morsel.

The dish I selected was a half-cuy cooked in tandoori spices... minus the head.  Whilst this avoidance tactic may disappoint some, I'd like to provide some reassurance in the fact the clawed feet were still very present.  The skin appeared dark and greasy but the smell was pretty good, it has to be said.  The waiter instructed me that I could eat using a knife and fork but the best method is always with the fingers.  Always good with me, especially when the clawed legs provided such helpful handles.

As I attempted to sink my teeth into the skin I realised this would be more complicated than I'd hoped.  Instead of the crunching and melting you get with the crisped skin of pork, this was decidedly tough.  As I tried to slice through the skin with my incisors I pulled the leg with all my might but it wouldn't give.  Instead, the rubbery epidermis snapped back out of my mouth intact.  Pulling the skin from the carcass with some difficulty revealed the meat below.  My companions, who had sampled this succulent treat before, assured me that, compared to their cuy, mine was packed with juicy meat.  A slightly raised eyebrow betrayed my disbelief as I examined the oversized hamster before me.

With some dextrous use of fingers, teeth and lips I managed to extract tiny bitesize pieces of the meat from the bones...  and I was pleasantly surprised.  The spices had infused the meat thoroughly but the underlying flavour of cuy was clearly present.  It reminded me of rabbit crossed with chicken.  Really very tasty but just so little of it.  A bit like getting a battered goldfish from the local chippy.  On the whole I was pleased to have faced this food-fear although I don't think I'll be indulging in cuy on a regular basis.  Saying that, if it was served to me in a UK restaurant  off the bone without my knowing its origin I think I'd eat it with gusto.  Kentucky Fried Cuy anyone?