How Smart is a Sheep? The Churra da Terra Quente

Published by Friday, August 3, 2012 Permalink 0

by Diana Zahuranec

As I stood in the crisp air and bright sun of a Portuguese farm with the other Slow Food University of Gastronomic Sciences students, a single question popped into my mind. We were learning about the Churra da Terra Quente sheep breed, an indigenous and endangered animal with tangled wool and long, dirty tails. They were a rough-looking lot, but watched us curiously and weren’t as shy as other sheep I’ve unwittingly terrified just by standing by them. Some scratched their dirty wool on dry tree trunks, and others flopped down onto the dry soil that was bereft of rain for 4 ½ months, unconsciously dirtying themselves even more. They had curly horns like trofiette pasta. I got the impression that they were happy, or content, to be out in the sun watching us watching them.

Churra da Terra Quente sheep in the dry Douro

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

In an indigenous flock – or group, or pack, or what-have-you – the purity of the breed is kept by inbreeding. In dogs, I know this leads to some odd character traits: Dalmations, for example, can be suddenly temperamental; my family’s Vizsla at times suffered anxiety and, strangely for a dog, psychological problems – and was also, of course, the most intelligent dog on earth.

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Thai Stinky Fruit: Durian

Published by Wednesday, March 21, 2012 Permalink 0

by Lenny Karpman

More than twenty years ago the King of Thailand was about to celebrate a landmark birthday, so he and his government planned a long list of special events and invited expatriate Thais from prominent families to return home and join the celebration. Yao, a Thai friend of mine was among the invitees. I went along.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Let’s go find some durian, you know – the stinky fruit,” she proclaimed with a smile. I returned her smile with a little apprehension. I was usually impervious to all varieties of natural and synthetic aromas. Not so that Sunday in Bangkok. My diminutive soft-spoken friend from San Francisco was on the home turf of her family and her childhood. She was my guide for the day. Her feather-like hold on my arm steered me through the bustle of the Sunday crowds. There, at the weekend market on the edge of the city, thousands of shoppers gathered to buy everything from plaid boxer shorts and eyeliner to hundred kilo live pigs. We were on a durian quest.

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