I was a teen when I had my first taste of a cherimoya. I was with my parents at a Vietnamese market in San Jose, and my mom found a good deal on some cherimoyas and got a couple. Cherimoyas are usually ridiculously expensive when you are able to find them ($15-25/lb, anyone?); they are really only at ethnic grocery stores during very specific seasons of the year. My mom cut it open for us and instructed us to remove the outer green skin and to eat the white flesh, spitting out the large black seeds inside. I wasn’t sure what exactly I was eating, but I knew I was in heaven at the very first bite. Cherimoya is commonly referred to as a custard apple in English, and the name is very apt, as the texture, when ripe, truly is like a rich, fruity, almost velvety custard. The taste is hard to describe, but it’s a very tropical flavor. It’s very similar to a mix of very sweet pineapple, papaya, kiwi, and strawberry. That’s a lot of different fruit to compare it to, but that’s because the flavor is extremely sweet and very complex!

So I got my ~$2 USD cherimoya that was about 3 pounds yesterday. We ate it this morning at breakfast, and Chris got so overwhelmed by how much fruit there was and felt so full after we ate it; I have no idea what he was referring to, though. I could have eaten the cherimoya all day long and been totally fine! Today, we went to Surquillo No. 1 and 2 Market, where en route, I picked up another large cherimoya for a tiny bit more money, plus a local Edward mango, a fresh lucuma, and some maracuya/passion fruit. I’ll be the fresh fruit lady at our hotel breakfast tomorrow morning, but I have no shame and instead, will proudly carry my market-purchased, freshly washed fruit onto the breakfast floor!

While I shopped for fruit, Chris took a look at the prepared food stalls and what the locals were eating. We were likely the only tourists in the market that morning and got a lot of friendly smiles. He got us a bowl of chupe de pescado for just a couple bucks after watching all these other people come and go, happily slurping their soups from this one teeny tiny little stall. “Chupe de pescado” literally means “fish stew.” It was quite a wonder to watch the little woman behind the counter prepare it, as the stock pots seemed to almost tower over her! She had a huge stock pot with just fish stock, and another large pot with all the actual fish meat, eggs, and other seasonings. For each bowl, she strained the stock of the fish bones, then added all the accompaniments to the chupe.

I am not sure what kind of fish was in that stew. I don’t know what else was in that thick soup other than shredded and cut up fish, eggs, and some herbs. But I do know that that was likely one of the very best and richest fish soups I’ve ever had the privilege of eating. The deep yellow soup looked like it was just full of fish collagen! The stalls that only sell one or two things are always my favorite places to eat at markets when we travel. If they can make a living just serving one or two things, those one or two things must be darn good. And this was!

We’re spending the first few days of our South America trip in Lima. As we wandered through the city and explored the main square, Chinatown (Peru has a large Chinese population that has given birth to “chifa” or Peruvian Chinese food), and Pueblo Libre, I thought about all the people I’ve met over the years, mostly colleagues, customers, and friends of friends, who have explicitly stated that they “avoid cities” when traveling. Some of them have even said they “avoid cities like the plague” and “cannot stand them” when on vacation. All of them live in suburbs or rural areas; none live in major cities. I wonder, though, when this actually became acceptable to say? To me, when I hear someone say something like this, what I actually hear them saying is, “I avoid places where there is culture and diversity. I dislike places where I can discover new things and challenge assumptions I had about the world.” Because if you actually said those last two sentences in any setting, whether it’s at work, amongst friends/family, or even to total strangers on the street, you’d appear to be an ignorant asshole who is scared of anything you are unfamiliar with. But I generally think: meh. It’s their loss that they don’t even realize is a loss, not mine, and not my problem or my bone to pick.

I’ll be honest: Lima, Peru, is not on my list of “beautiful cities.” It has fancy and wealthy neighborhoods, working class neighborhoods, areas with lots of grittiness and grime. The traffic here is absolutely horrendous with cars running red lights here and there and endless close calls with cars almost hitting pedestrians. Lane lines? What for? Just drive where you want! And from everything I’ve read, the public transit system is an inefficient nightmare. But Lima is brimming with culture, with lots of different (and indigenous) languages spoken, historic squares and streets. I was excited when I found out it was cherimoya season in Peru, and I snagged a massive, nearly 3-lb cherimoya for just over $2 USD from a friendly street vendor, whose cart was almost overflowing with heaps of fat green custard apples. He gave us samples and even gave Kaia extra samples when he saw she enjoyed the fruit. At Antigua Taberna Queirolo, one of the oldest bars and restaurants in Lima, having been around since 1880, we got to try our first pisco sours of our Peru trip (classic and maracuya/passion fruit, both excellent), plus a half/half mix of arroz con leche (rice pudding) and mazzamora morada (Peruvian purple corn pudding flavored with warm spices, pineapple, and apple). And in the evening in Pueblo Libre, we stumbled upon a little family-owned cafe/bakery where they made chocolate lucuma cake and introduced us to lucuma blended into a smoothie with milk. Lucuma is a new fruit for us. It’s native to the Andean valleys, specifically around Peru, Ecuador, Chile, and Bolivia, and is known as the “gold of the Incas.” Lucuma is round and green on the outside, and deep orange/golden yellow on the inside with an interesting starchy flesh almost like a sweet potato. The flavor is very interesting: it’s almost like a cross between a papaya, fig, and sweet potato. It goes perfectly blended with milk, and it’s a very popular fruit drink combination in Peru.

When traveling, I love visiting other cities. I love being able to see the countryside and rural areas. I love the mountains and the ocean. I love it all. But what I love most is discovering new things and new flavors (why would I travel to see the same stuff I see every day where I live?!). Lucuma wasn’t on my mental list of things to try here, but I really loved it, especially blended with milk. I will most definitely remember this fruit in the future and how unique it is.