Bylakuppe

We were doing yoga in Mysore, India. That's where the Ashtanga people go. Most of these people are vegetarians, as are most people in India. Actually, most of these Ashtanga yoga people that go to Mysore, they're not from India, but they're still vegetarian.



Bylakuppe's Golden Temple -- a slice of Tibet in tropical South India



Anyway, one of these vegetarians told us of a place nearby called Bylakuppe. Bylakuppe is a secret hide-away resort for Buddhist monks who like to eat beef. Tsk tsk. Ok, seriously... Bylakuppe is one of many Tibetan refugee villages in India.

We were getting all ready to go there when we were told it was closed to visitors because the week before, the Dalai Lama and his groupie, Richard Gere, had been there to do a speech, and there has been some vague threat. We're not sure who would make a threat like this, hmm? Then, on our last week in India, we received the good news that Bylakuppe had again been opened to visitors, but that I should bring my passport. They didn't check it...



There's about 10,000 Tibetans living in the Bylakuppe area. They've got these really cool Tibetan temples there, and Tibetan monks walking around, ironically surrounded by coconut palm trees. And if you walk down the village street, there are shops with all sorts of tourist trinkets (Fr33 T!bet shirts, I heart NY hats, Che Guevara posters, incense) and ... beef momos!

Now here's the thing. Buddhists don't eat meat. I wrote a college paper about this years ago: The Buddhist Diet. But, and you can ask the Dalai Lama himself, the Tibetan Buddhists don't have access to many vegetables up thar in them hills, so they kinda gotta eat meat to survive. That's why, when you walk down this village street in the middle of holy-cow country vegetarian South India, you see all these dudes dressed in saffron and burgundy robes, chowing down on beef beef beef.

What's a momo? A momo is the national dish of Tibet. Well, if it were a nation, that is. When in Bylakuppe, it feels like a nation. Almost. Anyway, a momo is a steamed dumpling. They do make some vegetarian momos, but the ones filled with beef are the famous ones. We tried several of the momo shacks on the street, and there was one restaurant that was way best, it's the one in the pic below.



We've had momos in other countries, but the Bylakuppe momos were really yummy, and after several weeks without any meat, the beef was like a protein mainline hit that got us all goofy and giddy and ready to rock, but admittedly we felt a twinge of guilt.



We'd grown fond of our neighbor's cow in Mysore, and enjoyed her milk. We also liked the cute pigs that came by to eat our trash every afternoon. Pigs in India? That's what we thought at first, and then we learned about the Coorgi people, who eat pigs, unlike the Muslims and Hindus. Everybody's gotta have their thing, eh?

Here's a question -- in India, what happens to the male cow?



Tibetan monks watching a cricket match on TV in Bylakuppe, India



You see these signs around the village

Beef Tongue

I love Hong Kong. It's a foodie paradise. Everything is good. While you might not find the absolute best of any particular dish, you know you're not going to get anything bad. They don't have time for that here.

They also have the best waiters here. They don't bother you when you want to be left alone, and they know what you want before you order. Some of the older guys intimidate me -- they don't even need to write down an order of 20 some-odd dishes -- they just have impressive memories.

My favorite part is the seemingly wacky combinations that always work. Won-ton soup, bitter melon, chicken curry, crab in milk, tea mixed with coffee, and for dessert? This place does cheesecake. At a Chinese restaurant? Of course! Look around, everyone's got cheesecake. Go with the tao.

Hong Kongers are the crazy about food. More than any other people or place I've experienced. Restaurants are open at 4am everywhere, and they're packed. It's common to have two dinners in one night, then hit up a dessert cafe or soup joint after a night out.

But one mystery that still haunts me -- why the hell do Hong Kong restaurants blast the air conditioner, even in the middle of winter? We were freezing at almost every restaurant we went to. Is it so people can show off their winter collections? Oh, great, I can wear my Prada jacket in here! Not cold enough outside.

One night a friend took me to a Hong Kong institution called Tai Ping Koon. When I took a look at the menu, I was worried -- It's one of those historical places that packs in the sucker tourists. They've got a story about the restaurant on the front of the menu, and there's a list of dishes that are "favorites." Usually a bad sign. But not here, this place is good.

The waiters are elderly men with pep and energy, no-nonsense, but total class. You know you're in good hands. Things run smooth. We ordered the favorites. Or rather the waiter suggested this and we agreed. They know, we know, all's good. Go with the tao.

The most famous of these "favorites" are the "Swiss sauce chicken wings" -- the story is, about a hundred years ago, a waitress at the original location misunderstood "sweet sauce" for "Swiss sauce" and the misunderstanding was a legend born. They're yummy. Tender juicy chicken wings marinated in a thick, slightly sweet soy sauce.



(sorry, it's a cell phone pic)

I was surprised, considering this was a tourist spot, that our waiter suggested the beef tongue. Most tourists I know would flinch at a large, unadulterated cow tongue on a plate.

I'd had beef tongue only once before... but I don't remember if I actually ate it. I have a vague memory of my mother bringing home a beef tongue from the grocery butcher in Kansas City (we spent a few years living in Missouri). I remember her having fun freaking out my Dad and us kids, when she told us to open the fridge and look at the cow tongue, like a dare. We didn't believe her, but then there it was, sitting on a plate, all large and gooey looking. We picked it up and played with it, and I chased my sisters around the dining room, delighting in grossing them out. That's all I remember, I don't recall eating the thing.

So now, years later in Hong Kong, I finally had a chance to carve into some beef tongue. The texture was pretty close to what I expected, but the taste was much better than what I imagined. Thick and juicy and fulfilling, and only very slightly rubbery. It was a good match for a Guinness, which I would never choose to drink in Hong Kong's warm climate, but then with the air conditioner on full blast, it made sense.

Address:
Tai Ping Koon, 40, Granville Road, Tsimshatsui, Kowloon.