I am a man that believes that if you are a vegetarian you are either sick or stupid.
I begin like this, because I just came from any carnivore's heaven, appropriately called "Carnivore". I am normally not one to enjoy tourist trap's because I most likely have been there or done that, or it is just stupid but this is one that no man, and possibly woman (if you exist I want to marry you) should ever miss. Imagine a Fogo de Chao on crack with a dash of wild African game.
I'm going to now lead you through the full body experience of this place.
Imagine, as you enter this walk through a well manicured jungle, you hear the distinct sounds of forced, "local" beats softly in the background. Faintly, barely audible is the sound of the meat god's angels humming the sweet sounds of simmering over slabs of flesh, meat and bone. Immediately as you enter the restaurant, passed the post cards and t-shirts for sale on the walls, the skies open above and before you is the site of an open pit of fire and coals. That is not the greatest thing about this sight. Remember the angels' voices humming sweet melodies in your ears, that is the sound of the 40 assorted legs, spines, entire carcases hanging on spits in a circle around the fire.
In an attempt to fill you before the meat arrives, you are presented with a delicate split pea soup thing, bread, spicy samosas and potato wedges. Oh but I was not fooled. I reminded myself that this is a marathon, not a sprint. Enjoy every bite. Do not be afraid to take one bite of something and not finish it, because there is always more coming.
My first bite of meat told me that my ears and nose had not lied to me. The prime rib, fresh cut from a skewer melted in my mouth, as if eating butter. My second bite, chicken wings with a magical rub that was sweet and sour with a hint of the glorious smoke that it was just sitting over. The third an Ostrich meatball. This one slightly dissappointed me because it was grainy, fatty and over spiced. Ostrich meat is supposed to be this lean, delicately flavored red meat, but somehow they took it and made it taste like a fat lamb. The fourth was a lamb sausage that definitely did not include a single piece of meat, it was purely everything found within the animal, and I'm not talking about the muscle. But let me tell you...that poop shoot was mighty tasty!
But anyway, to the Camel. Take some shoe leather, make it stringy and rub it with salt and pepper; you may be getting close. To be closer, leave that meat out to cure in the hot sun for a week and still you won't be quite there. The closest thing I can think of is dog meat, except even dog meat had more flavor and was more easily chewable.
This meal went on and on, like a Merry Go Round of meat heaven, except I wasn't reaching for the gold ring on the edge, I was reaching for the strangest meat I could find. But my luck ran out...when they ran out of crocodile. With that news, I pouted my way home in my taxi alone. And here I sit, alone, with my beer (Pilsner, Ugandan, very light and very tasty) until I can no longer focus and need to sleep, battling jet lag like the champion meat eater I am.
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The only problem with this evening is that I enjoyed it alone. Africa is one of those places in the world that one must always have another to share the experience with. It is a continent full of surprises that always leave you speechless and that no words do the moment justice; pictures only scratch the photo; and videos, blue balls. But I will do my best.
