Kathmandu was the departure from Southeast Asia I had been waiting for. The air is difficult to breath, the dust thickly coats your face, and the assault of motorbike horns in the frighteningly narrow, winding streets is extremely painful to my formerly-sensitive ears. But then there are momos. Momos are simple dumplings native to Tibet and Nepal that are stuffed with diced vegetable, potato and yak cheese, or meat. They are either steamed, deep fried, served
kothey (steamed and then pan-fried on one side: the clear winner), or set in a thick chili broth. They are typically served with a spicy tomato chutney, a sweet peanut sauce, or a fiery orange chili dip. An order arrives standard with ten momos. When you do receive nine, well, you need to consider what you did in life to deserve the punishment. And when the wind blows just right you may get the mythical eleventh momo. The eleventh momo is typically two to three times bigger than the rest: I suspect the chef made ten momos and had some dough and filling left over and used it up in one mega-momo.
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