Jugo Especial

Lara Naaman Cooks up a Peruvian Recipe for Revenge

DURING A TRIP TO PERU, MY BOYFRIEND FILIP AND I would make morning trips to the juice section of the Cuzco market for apple-carrot juice at Eufemia's juice stand. It was, I thought at the time, a cute little romantic ritual that left our lips stained orange for the rest of the day. Eufemia was a smiley gold-toothed young woman who would always, in good humor, try to sell us more than we could drink. "Gringos! For you today special! ¡Jugo Especial!"

"What's that?" Filip played along.

"All the fruits you see here, plus beet, alfalfa, molasses, beer! And because you are good customers, special price. Five dollar."

"Thanks Eufemia," said Filip. "But it's out of my price range."

"Your boyfriend. He stingy," she informed me. We had a laugh over that one and said we'd save up our money for next time.

A few days later, I went in by myself as Filip was off climbing some mountain that didn't interest me. Eufemia would not accept my usual order of apple-carrot juice.

"Today you try Jugo Especial," she ordered. "You no pay. You tell boyfriend I not stingy." She raised her eyebrow for emphasis.

So when Filip got back I passed on Eufemia's message. He didn't take it with the humor I would've expected. "Screw that hag anyway. I'm not going to her anymore." As I myself was unhindered by a ridiculous sense of masculine pride, I continued visiting Eufemia. She did, after all, make the best juice in Cuzco. One morning, a week later, she and I were gossiping about the blossoming romance between one of the poultry salesmen and her sister while she shoved apples through the juicer.

"Eufemia!" whispered the lady who owned the neighboring juice stand, "Isn't that the gringa whose boyfriend comes in with that blond girl and orders Jugo Especial everyday?"

Eufemia whispered back something to the effect of, "Yeah, it's also the gringa who understands Spanish perfectly, thank you very much." Meanwhile, my face was the color of the beets Eufemia was now grating as I realized that the entire juice section of the Cuzco market knew my boyfriend was cheating on me before I did.

Eufemia apologized, saying she had tried subtly to warn me. "I guess you no want more Jugo Especial," she mumbled dejectedly. I thanked her anyway and told her not to worry. I was just going to head over to the butcher's section, I said.

"¡Eso!" she cheered me on.

I couldn't have timed my visit more perfectly. There, at the entrance to the beef tables was a sight that warmed my recently-dumped, women's college graduate heart: two little girls selling raw testicles. They waved me over.

"Well girls, what have we here?"

"¡Huevos, son ricos!" Testicles. They're good.

The girls were so enthusiastic I had to buy a pair. When I met up with Filip again it was almost dinner time. He seemed cheerful and had been out visiting the ruins, he claimed. Did I want dinner?

"I'm cooking dinner here, sweetie." I led him in to the hostel's kitchen, enjoying the horrified look on his face when he saw what I was preparing.

"What's that?"

"Testicles dipped in paprika and breadcrumbs and fried in butter. Then I thought we might have some jugo especial to go with it…."

Lara's Just-Been-Dumped Fried Testicles

2 bull's testicles

2 eggs

1/2 cup bread crumbs

1/4 cup grated Parmesan cheese

1/4 stick of butter

paprika to taste

Clean the testicles well. In a bowl, beat two eggs together and set aside. In another bowl, mix the Parmesan and bread crumbs. Dip the testicles in the egg, then pass through the bread crumb mixture. In a frying pan, melt the butter and add the coated testicles. Sprinkle liberally with paprika and fry until golden brown.

This article was originally printed in

Abroad View Magazine