Marmot is a Dish Best Served Cold

I forgot to mention that on Sunday, after birding, in addition to being served mutton ribs and some concoction of tea, rice, milk and more mutton bits, I was offered a delicacy for the first time in my Mongolian odyssey: chilled marmot. Um, not the whole thing, mind you. Just a couple of fatty slivers, presented as if they were nightingale tongues. They might as well have been. As I gently chided my hosts (good friends), poaching of the Siberian Marmot has resulted in a severe decline in its population over the last couple of decades.

Oh, and marmots are the primary vector in Mongolia for outbreaks of bubonic plague (that whump you just heard was my mother hitting the floor).

Nonetheless, as a monk I’m obligated to sample what is offered to me, even if it’s cold marmot fat. And you know what? I pronounced it pretty darn tasty, provoking much laughter at the table, along with variations of, “Ooh, Gonchig’s a real Mongolian monk now!”

I did decline the fermented mare’s milk, though. By this time of year (airag is fresh in June/July), the alcohol content would present a pretty clear transgression of my precepts.

Comments

[Mel]

Actually, marmots are a reservoir for the disease. Fleas are the vector for transmission. Unless there were fleas on that tray of fat, your mother need not worry.

[daisy in the shenandoah valley]

The things I learn reading this blog (and the comments).

[Leamur]

Looks like a skinny groundhog. I'd send you one so you could repay your friends the favor of sharing the Mongolian equivalent with you, but that would just be wrong...

I hope the fresh air and sunshine are doing your body & soul good. 'Tis the season to be thankful, so thank you for everything you're doing for the dharma, and for letting us watch. Salud!

[Konchog]

Thank you, Mel, I never knew that! It actually sounds a little ookier to be a reservoir, doesn't it? I do think the marmot slivers were flea-free.

The same can't be said about the mutton dumplings I ate last night. I think I was the reservoir, forcibly emptied as the night wore on. This morning I feel like I went ten rounds with Mike Tyson. But at least it's not the plague!