The Fading Art of Cooking in the Earth

Watia, the art of cooking food by burying it in hot earth, is an ancient Bolivian tradition. For Bolivians, cooking this way is to live the rituals and share the tastes of their Inca ancestors, explains Adrian Cachi Inca, a modern-day watia practitioner.

For all their emotional significance, however, watia dishes are becoming harder and harder to find in today’s Bolivia—something I discover only after two minibus rides, two taxis and a total of five hours looking. Adrian’s restaurant, El Carretero, lies in the dusty neighbourhood of Huajchilla. With its wide single road, huge horizons and dawdling trucks, Huajchilla is strongly reminiscent of the classic American Midwest, seemingly less a town than a mere tollgate on the road’s continuing journey. Like the Midwest, it also has the feel of being out in the sticks—it’s a good 25 kilometres from central La Paz. So, having travelled over an hour to get there, it is somewhat crushing to discover that, today, watia is not on the menu.

Still, Adrian—a stiff man, whose stern façade occasionally creases with glee (usually at the naïveté of my questions)—obligingly walks me through the process of his pamparu (the Quechua tribal name for watia). He explains that the embers at the bottom of the earth oven must be started at 6 am, as it takes two hours for the earth to warm up. Another three hours are needed for the meat itself—almost always pork or chicken—to be ready. He uses greda soil taken from the local area to seal the lid of the oven, which helps tenderize the meat. We even enjoy an elaborate fake photo shoot, with Adrian lowering some delicious-smelling marinated chicken into the cold pit (and leaving me in no doubt that when the Incas ate, they ate well). But for all our pleading, the oven is not coming on.

The reason for this is the bad weather. In traditional watia cooking, rain dampens the earth so that it can never become hot enough to cook with. For Adrian, the reason is more modern: rain scares off customers, and without a full house it is not worth the effort that watia demands. This pleasing continuity with the conditions of the past is what, for many, makes watia special. Yet it is also what endangers its continued practice today.

Watia is simply a time-intensive labour. The hours involved mean that Adrian can only cook one batch—serving around 30 people—per day, far less than the output of most modern restaurants. At its most authentic, watia is even more of a challenge: though Adrian does rely on the heat of the earth (unlike many supposed watia restaurants in Huajchilla, which simply use modern ovens), he does have the advantage of a metal lid to seal the hole. Traditional watia cooking involved covering the food with earth—and if any steam escaped the whole dish would be ruined. Guessing when the food was ready to be uncovered, then, would have taken considerable intuition and skill.

At its heart, watia has a similar idea to old Moroccan tagines or Chinese clay teapots—that the earth absorbs flavour, which it then also imparts onto new dishes. Everything cooked or served in that earth carries the memory of dishes made before it: food becomes history. But cooking this way involves a level of care and patience that’s at odds with an increasingly mass-produced world. It is little wonder that, as Adrian tells me, there are only two watia restaurants left in Cochabamba, which was once a watia stronghold. Indeed, the big question seems to be: Will the next generation of Bolivians get to experience watia?

Adrian tells me about his clientele, mostly middle-class families, who often rent out the entire restaurant for special occasions. It seems to me that this might be the way of watia in the future. As food generally is produced on an increasingly industrialized scale, those with the money will often fork out for something unique. Of course, this risks turning watia into something of a novelty—a fun anomaly in a culture that it no longer fits—and not, as it once was, a glimpse into an older pace of life. But perhaps this is not to be helped—and even if watia becomes little more than a source of excellent chicken, that’s nothing to be sneered at. After all, when has KFC ever tasted this good?

Llajua, the Bolivian hot sauce, is not just popular, but also an essential part of Bolivia’s social fabric. It’s eaten in every corner of Bolivia, transcending cultural and regional divides, from the one-man burger vans of Plaza España and the polished floors of Burger King, to the houses of Bolivian haute cuisine. It originated on the altiplano, although different regions often have slightly different recipes. The addition of a traditional herb called wacataya comes from Sucre, and in Cochabamba some add perejil to the concoction. Its even eaten outside Bolivia, above all in the north of Argentina and parts of Chile, where it’s called pebre instead. In 2009, the Bolivian government went as far as to patent the idea!

Ingredients
Ripe medium tomatoes
Red and green locotos, without seeds
Quirquiña
Teaspoon salt

Instructions
1. Peel the tomatoes, slice the locoto (removing seeds) and add the quirquiña leaves
2. Grind tomatoes, locoto, green chile peppers and quirquiña on a traditional batán stone
3. Add salt and continue grinding

For those wanting to make it spicier, use less tomato and increase the proportion of quirquiña and locoto. When done, the llajua is likely to turn out green or a darker red. (The redness is a sign of the proportion of tomato used; generally the redder it is, the less spicy.)

Coming Soon to a Food Court Near You!

Reflecting on traditional Bolivian cuisine, there are a few staples that immediately come to mind. The plato paceño features the unlikely combination of corn, giant lima beans, potato and fried cheese. Then there’s the iconic salteña: a perfectly baked pastry filled with a savory blend of meat, vegetables and a slightly spicy sauce. And of course the silpancho, a hefty platter layered with rice, potatoes, meat, egg and topped with salsa. What unites these dishes, and also sets them apart from others, is the fact they are all based on traditional recipes, a quality which has enabled them to be passed down for generations.

While these foods have survived the passage of time largely unchanged, what does continue to change is the market in which they compete. Away from traditional eateries, demand for fast food in Bolivia continues to escalate, as evidenced by the ever-growing presence of Burger King and KFC franchises. But fast food chains are no longer just selling burgers and fried chicken. Many local initiatives have positioned themselves in this segment, mass producing treats traditionally only found in market stalls and home kitchens. Fast food establishments offering native dishes have sprouted up in shopping malls across the country, and chains are becoming established by opening up outlets on street corners everywhere. Giants in the making include Silpich’s, Casa del Camba Express, Api Happy, La Quinta, and Wistupiku.

It was a sunny afternoon in La Paz when I decided to stroll into Api Happy, a restaurant located near the Monoblock that specialises in the rapid delivery of traditional Bolivian food from the highlands. The place was highly recommended to me and I’d even heard rumours that the woman who owns the restaurant intends to open franchises outside of Bolivia, thus making it the first Bolivian fast food company to go international.

The interior was, to put it frankly, basic (think mall food court meets high school cafeteria). I gandered upon the menu only to realise I was looking at pictures of unfamiliar foods in combinations I’d have never before imagined. I had no idea what to order.

So I decided to employ a trick I devised long ago for culinary predicaments such as the one I was facing: I ask what the most popular dish is, nod with great interest as the pearls of wisdom are bestowed unto me, pretend to ponder my way through a momentary bout of indecisiveness, and finally order every suggested item. In this case it was the plato paceño, which in hindsight was a predictable recommendation. It is, after all, the city’s signature dish.

I took a seat at a table and decided to pass the time by flipping through an Api Happy leaflet I picked up on my way in. I learned that Api Happy has four franchises throughout Bolivia, as well as a few facts about their ‘healthy’ menu options. For example, the company uses whole grain flour for its pastries, which they claim assists in the prevention of diabetes and obesity. I glanced over to see a cook deep-frying one of these cheese-stuffed whole grain pastries, all the time wondering how many people actually buy into this claim.

It was about 11 am. The restaurant wasn’t particularly busy, nor particularly dead. Most diners were eating the plato placeño, or presumably fighting off diabetes with one of these fried pastries. Not even a few minutes passed by before I joined in with my own plato paceño; my second one this week. I didn’t notice a significant difference in this dish from the homemade version I had a few days earlier. In this case, flavour and quality were not compromised for the sake of a quick delivery.

I was, however, able to get the inside scoop on another popular Bolivian fast food franchise: Pollos Panchita. Originally a small fried chicken vendor operated by a married couple in Cochabamba, the operation has since grown to operate in four locations across Bolivia. It has also added a second menu under the name ‘Llajta,’ which includes a variety of traditional Bolivian favorites.

I arrived to the El Prado Panchita to meet with Sergio, who has managed this location for six years. A hands-on supervisor, Sergio was hard at work mopping the floor when I asked an employee to see the manager. I liked him immediately.

I had recently read that Francesca Dominguez, the owner of Pollos Panchita, has always placed great importance on purchasing all raw materials from domestic suppliers. I asked Sergio about this, and he told me that all their supplies and ingredients are shipped from Cochabamba. I then asked Sergio if the product arrives frozen and pre-made, as it commonly does with fast food establishments in the United States. He told me no. Aside from condiments, everything is prepared fresh each morning. Fresh fast food—now that’s a new concept!

But in Bolivia this makes sense. Cochabamba is, after all, the agriculture and livestock farming centre of Bolivia, so ingredients are commonly sourced from this region. And materials travel only roughly 400 kilometers—a distance which pales in comparison to the thousands of kilometers ingredients must travel within the United States. Two other Bolivian fast food locations I visited also said that they source their food domestically, and sometimes even locally. Such a supply chain would be impossible for a big Western chain such as McDonald’s to sustain, considering that these companies source from many locations and therefore must rely heavily on preservatives, processing and freezing.

But what about consistency and timeliness? Nobody likes a McNugget that isn’t identical to its box mate, and Bolivian fast food is no exception. The key to fast food is being able to provide the exact same product, every time, at every franchise where it’s sold—and fast. Sergio said that thanks to Pollos Panchita’s ability to reinvent the preparation process, speed and consistency are ensured without a hitch. But what role do GMOs play in Bolivia’s fast food?

As it turns out, not a very big one. Evo Morales’s administration has recently passed the ‘Law of Mother Earth and Integral Development for Living Well’, which bans the introduction, production, use and release of genetically modified seeds in Bolivia. There are certain loopholes, such as the allowance of transgenic varieties for non-native crops. When it comes to native crops, however, GMOs are strictly prohibited. Considering that traditional recipes are based on the use of native ingredients, the likeliness of encountering GMOs is slim.

As far as livestock is concerned, factory farming is not as pervasive in Bolivia as it is in Western nations. Rather, livestock farming, which follow the age-old traditional model, is free range by default. 

According to Katrien Van’t Hooft, who studies Bolivian farming methods, ‘Animal raising is embedded in Andean cultural values, such as solidarity and reciprocity, community organisation and respect for Pachamama—or Mother Earth. Rural families perform, therefore, numerous rituals and festivals related to livestock throughout the agricultural cycle. The subject of livestock rearing by families is also closely connected to those of biodiversity, environment, gender, poverty and migration’. For these reasons, it has been difficult to move towards the industrialization of livestock keeping. It appears locally sourced meat will continue to be free range for quite some time to come.

But how do street vendors feel about this latest development of traditional fast food? Do they feel threatened by this growing form of competition? I’ve noticed an abundance of salteña franchises throughout the city; surely the small fish must be upset by the growing amount of new sharks in the sea. I decide to ask a street vendor, a young woman supervising a salteñería, about her thoughts on this. Surprisingly, she doesn’t appear too concerned by it. She informs me that she has regulars who return faithfully each day who purchase her salteñas until she sells out. And she sells out every day.

Interestingly enough, Bolivians don’t seem to mind the competition, or appear to even view it as such. As long as they get by, that’s all that matters. Franchises don’t need to worry about receiving any heat from these small vendors—at least not for now.
It appears Bolivian franchises serving up platos paceños and salteñas are here to stay. And while these restaurants may not yet compete or operate on same level as that of American fast food heavyweights, they certainly have a hold, and understanding, of a niche that could enable them to grow to that level. As they continue improving upon and developing new processes and new technologies, there’s a good chance we could be seeing our first traditional Bolivian fast food franchise outside of Bolivia very soon. So don’t be too surprised if you see salteñas at your mall food court within the next few years!