52.
Diet of Mongolia
By Katherine Czapp
To 19th century Europeans, Central Asia represented vast tracts of unknown lands populated largely by the nomadic peoples of Mongolia, Turkestan and Tibet. Even as late as the mid-century, of the very few accounts available to Europeans of travels in this Terra Incognita, Marco Polo's 13th century adventures along the Silk Road and friendly visit with Genghis Khan's grandson, Kublai Khan, remained the most informative.
Isolated contemporary forays into the region by Christian missionaries produced largely inaccurate or incomplete information, although perhaps the most interesting of these was written by Evariste Huc, a French Lazarist missionary of the Roman Catholic Church who was sent with his brother missionary, Joseph Gabet, to evangelize the Mongols in 1844.
Abbé Huc wrote a lively, colorful and picaresque account of the two years of their travels which was translated into several languages and became immediately popular, although many of his readers assumed his nearly incredible adventures to be at least semi-fictional.
In 1870, the Russian Geographical Society (RGS) granted permission and funding for a small expedition of ten men led by Lieutenant-Colonel Nikolai Mikhailovich Przhevalsky to journey into Mongolia, on the western fringes of the Chinese empire. The impetus for this expedition was both political and scientific: recent uprisings among Muslim Tungans near the Chinese-Russian border exposed a weakness in Chinese authority, and the Russian government wanted Przhevalsky to reconnoiter these events. Przhevalsky would also be responsible for surveying and mapping the terrain and reporting on the flora and fauna of the regions he would travel through.
Isolated contemporary forays into the region by Christian missionaries produced largely inaccurate or incomplete information, although perhaps the most interesting of these was written by Evariste Huc, a French Lazarist missionary of the Roman Catholic Church who was sent with his brother missionary, Joseph Gabet, to evangelize the Mongols in 1844.
Abbé Huc wrote a lively, colorful and picaresque account of the two years of their travels which was translated into several languages and became immediately popular, although many of his readers assumed his nearly incredible adventures to be at least semi-fictional.
In 1870, the Russian Geographical Society (RGS) granted permission and funding for a small expedition of ten men led by Lieutenant-Colonel Nikolai Mikhailovich Przhevalsky to journey into Mongolia, on the western fringes of the Chinese empire. The impetus for this expedition was both political and scientific: recent uprisings among Muslim Tungans near the Chinese-Russian border exposed a weakness in Chinese authority, and the Russian government wanted Przhevalsky to reconnoiter these events. Przhevalsky would also be responsible for surveying and mapping the terrain and reporting on the flora and fauna of the regions he would travel through.
The Przhevalsky Journey
While a young officer in the Russian Army, Nikolai Przhevalsky had just two years earlier been sent by the RGS to survey new lands along the Amur and Ussuri Rivers in territory that had recently been ceded to Russia by China. Likely inspired by the immensely popular travel writings of David Livingstone and the colonizing of Africa and India by the British, Przhevalsky's aspirations for travel into Central Asia were fired by the race for influence and supremacy in Asia between Russia and Great Britain.
At the same time, Przhevalsky was a dedicated and talented naturalist, with great skills of observation. His original maps of exacting detail won him acclaim and medals of distinction from all the prominent geographical societies of Europe.
Traveling by horse and camel, and with a large herbarium in tow, Przhevalsky and his entourage first visited Beijing to secure passports for the rest of their journey through Chinese territory. Even with official permission from Beijing, Przhevalsky would meet with great difficulties as he traveled through regions ruled by local chieftains whose capricious chicanery and even cruelty would permanently sour his view of the Chinese, who were understandably suspicious of foreign presence.
Przhevalsky would learn to camp far from Chinese towns and closer to the Mongols, who were generally friendly and curious, and, once satisfied that the Russians were peaceful, would invite them inside their yurts for the ubiquitous cup of milk tea.
Ultimately, though, Przhevalsky's three-year sojourn in Western Mongolia was a great success. Along with his detailed maps and geographical notes, Przhevalsky brought back to St. Petersburg some 16,000 specimens of 1,700 botanical species, and introduced to Europe many species of yak, camel and other mammals.
His most illustrious discovery was of the world's last extant wild horse which in his honor bears his name, Equus ferus przewalskii.
In 1875, the Imperial edition of Przhevalsky's Mongolia, the Tangut Country, and the Solitudes of Northern Tibet: Being a Narrative of Three Years' Travel in Eastern High Asia was published, and an English translation with notes appeared the very next year, published by the British Royal Geographical Society.
In his book, Przhevalsky dedicated an entire chapter to the ethnology of the Mongols, and in his descriptions of the details of their dress, habits and daily life, the reader finds both the keen eye of the observer as well as the chauvinistic sensibilities of the modern European much influenced by the then-popular notion of social Darwinism.
Przhevalsky views the Mongols, although not without sympathy, as a subjugated and weakened people, whose "glory days" of the empire-building great warriors Genghis Khan and Kublai Khan are sadly long past. His own certainty in the supremacy of the European "race" unfortunately clouds his understanding of aspects of Mongol culture that he nevertheless relates to the reader out of genuine interest and curiosity.
At the same time, Przhevalsky was a dedicated and talented naturalist, with great skills of observation. His original maps of exacting detail won him acclaim and medals of distinction from all the prominent geographical societies of Europe.
Traveling by horse and camel, and with a large herbarium in tow, Przhevalsky and his entourage first visited Beijing to secure passports for the rest of their journey through Chinese territory. Even with official permission from Beijing, Przhevalsky would meet with great difficulties as he traveled through regions ruled by local chieftains whose capricious chicanery and even cruelty would permanently sour his view of the Chinese, who were understandably suspicious of foreign presence.
Przhevalsky would learn to camp far from Chinese towns and closer to the Mongols, who were generally friendly and curious, and, once satisfied that the Russians were peaceful, would invite them inside their yurts for the ubiquitous cup of milk tea.
Ultimately, though, Przhevalsky's three-year sojourn in Western Mongolia was a great success. Along with his detailed maps and geographical notes, Przhevalsky brought back to St. Petersburg some 16,000 specimens of 1,700 botanical species, and introduced to Europe many species of yak, camel and other mammals.
His most illustrious discovery was of the world's last extant wild horse which in his honor bears his name, Equus ferus przewalskii.
In 1875, the Imperial edition of Przhevalsky's Mongolia, the Tangut Country, and the Solitudes of Northern Tibet: Being a Narrative of Three Years' Travel in Eastern High Asia was published, and an English translation with notes appeared the very next year, published by the British Royal Geographical Society.
In his book, Przhevalsky dedicated an entire chapter to the ethnology of the Mongols, and in his descriptions of the details of their dress, habits and daily life, the reader finds both the keen eye of the observer as well as the chauvinistic sensibilities of the modern European much influenced by the then-popular notion of social Darwinism.
Przhevalsky views the Mongols, although not without sympathy, as a subjugated and weakened people, whose "glory days" of the empire-building great warriors Genghis Khan and Kublai Khan are sadly long past. His own certainty in the supremacy of the European "race" unfortunately clouds his understanding of aspects of Mongol culture that he nevertheless relates to the reader out of genuine interest and curiosity.
Mongol Diet
The food of the Mongols consists of milk prepared in various ways, either as butter, curds, whey or koumiss. The curds are made from the unskimmed milk, which is gently simmered over a slow fire, and then allowed to stand for some time, after which the thick cream is skimmed off and dried, and roasted millet often added to it. The whey is prepared from sour skimmed milk, and is made into small dry lumps of cheese.
Lastly, the koumiss is prepared from mares’ or sheep’s milk; all through the summer it is considered the greatest luxury, and Mongols are in the habit of constantly riding to visit their friends and taste the koumiss till they generally become intoxicated. They are all inclined to indulge too freely, although drunkenness is not so rife with them as it is in more civilized countries.
Tea and milk constitute the chief food of the Mongols all the year round, but they are equally fond of mutton. Sheep, like camels, are sacred; indeed all their domestic animals are emblems of some good qualities.
Mongolia has some of the harshest terrain in the world, as well as some of the highest altitudes. In the Russian version of Przhevalsky’s descriptions of pastureland it is clear that “grass of poorest description” indicates that the alpine species growing in this arid range are only centimeters high, as opposed to the waving grasses of the steppes of Russia.
In fact, some 600 species of highly nutritious alpine grasses, herbs and flowers all comprise the high-altitude pastures where Mongols grazed their herds for barely four months during the year, yet during that brief time they fattened quickly.
Before eating, the lamas and the more religious among the laity, after filling their cups, throw a little onto the fire or the ground, as an offering; before drinking they dip the middle finger of the right hand into the cup and flick off the adhering drops.
The lamas will not touch meat, but have no objection to carrion. They do not habitually eat bread, but they will not refuse Chinese loaves, and sometimes bake wheaten cakes themselves.
Fowl or fish they consider unclean, and their dislike to them is so great that one of our guides nearly turned sick on seeing us eat boiled duck at lake Koko-nor; this shows how relative are the ideas of people even in matters which apparently concern the senses. The very Mongol, born and bred amid frightful squalor, who could relish carrion, shuddered when he saw us eat duck à l’Européenne.
Lastly, the koumiss is prepared from mares’ or sheep’s milk; all through the summer it is considered the greatest luxury, and Mongols are in the habit of constantly riding to visit their friends and taste the koumiss till they generally become intoxicated. They are all inclined to indulge too freely, although drunkenness is not so rife with them as it is in more civilized countries.
Tea and milk constitute the chief food of the Mongols all the year round, but they are equally fond of mutton. Sheep, like camels, are sacred; indeed all their domestic animals are emblems of some good qualities.
Mongolia has some of the harshest terrain in the world, as well as some of the highest altitudes. In the Russian version of Przhevalsky’s descriptions of pastureland it is clear that “grass of poorest description” indicates that the alpine species growing in this arid range are only centimeters high, as opposed to the waving grasses of the steppes of Russia.
In fact, some 600 species of highly nutritious alpine grasses, herbs and flowers all comprise the high-altitude pastures where Mongols grazed their herds for barely four months during the year, yet during that brief time they fattened quickly.
Before eating, the lamas and the more religious among the laity, after filling their cups, throw a little onto the fire or the ground, as an offering; before drinking they dip the middle finger of the right hand into the cup and flick off the adhering drops.
The lamas will not touch meat, but have no objection to carrion. They do not habitually eat bread, but they will not refuse Chinese loaves, and sometimes bake wheaten cakes themselves.
Fowl or fish they consider unclean, and their dislike to them is so great that one of our guides nearly turned sick on seeing us eat boiled duck at lake Koko-nor; this shows how relative are the ideas of people even in matters which apparently concern the senses. The very Mongol, born and bred amid frightful squalor, who could relish carrion, shuddered when he saw us eat duck à l’Européenne.
Cattle - Their Life And Soul
Their only occupation and source of wealth is cattle-breeding, and their riches are counted by the number of their livestock, sheep, horses, camels, oxen, and a few goats—the proportion varying in different parts of Mongolia
As all the requirements of life: milk and meat for food, skins for clothing, wool for felt and ropes, are supplied by his cattle, which also earn him large sums by their sale, or by the transport of merchandise, so the nomad lives entirely for them. His personal wants, and those of his family, are a secondary consideration.
His movements from place to place depend on the wants of his animals. If they are well supplied with food and water, the Mongol is content. His skill and patience in managing them are admirable. The stubborn camel becomes his docile carrier; the half-tamed steppe-horse his obedient and faithful steed.
He loves and cherishes his animals; nothing will induce him to saddle a camel or a horse under a certain age; no money will buy his lambs or calves, which he considers it wrong to kill before they are full-grown.
As all the requirements of life: milk and meat for food, skins for clothing, wool for felt and ropes, are supplied by his cattle, which also earn him large sums by their sale, or by the transport of merchandise, so the nomad lives entirely for them. His personal wants, and those of his family, are a secondary consideration.
His movements from place to place depend on the wants of his animals. If they are well supplied with food and water, the Mongol is content. His skill and patience in managing them are admirable. The stubborn camel becomes his docile carrier; the half-tamed steppe-horse his obedient and faithful steed.
He loves and cherishes his animals; nothing will induce him to saddle a camel or a horse under a certain age; no money will buy his lambs or calves, which he considers it wrong to kill before they are full-grown.
Carefree Lifestyle
The most striking trait in their the Mongols’ character is sloth. Their whole lives are passed in holiday making, which harmonizes with their pastoral pursuits. Their cattle are their only care, and even they do not cause them much trouble. The camels and horses graze on the steppe without any watch, only requiring to be watered once a day in summer at the neighboring well.
The women and children tend the flocks and herds. Milking the cows, churning butter, preparing their meals, and other domestic work, falls to the lot of the women. The men, as a rule, do nothing but gallop about all day long from yurta to yurta, drinking tea or koumiss, and gossiping with their neighbors.
An occasional pilgrimage to some temple, and horse-racing, are their favorite diversions.
The Mongol is an excellent father, and passionately fond of his children. Whenever we gave them anything they always divided it equally among all the members of their family, were it a lump of sugar, and the portion of each individual only a crumb.
The elders are always held in great respect, whose opinions and commands are implicitly followed. They are very hospitable. Any one who enters the yurta is regaled with tea and milk, and, for old acquaintance sake, a Mongol will open a bottle of koumiss.
On meeting an acquaintance, or even a stranger, the Mongol salutes him with, ‘How are your cattle?’ This is always one of the first questions, and they make no enquiry after your health until they have learned that your sheep, camels, and horses are fat and well to do.
We often had the most detailed questions asked us, such as: ‘In whose care had we left our cattle before our departure on such a long journey?’ ‘What was the weight of the kurdiuk (fat tail) on each of our sheep?’ ‘How many good amblers did we possess and how many fat camels?’
“With the approach of autumn the Mongols throw off some of their laziness. The camels, which have been at pasture all the summer, are now collected together and driven to Kalgan or Kuku-Khoto to prepare for the transport of tea and merchandise to and from Kiakhta. Some are employed in carrying salt from the salt lakes of Mongolia to the nearest towns of China Proper.
In this way, during the autumn and winter, all the camels of Northern and Eastern Mongolia are earning large profits for their owners. With the return of April, the transport ceases, the wearied animals are turned loose on the steppe, and their masters repose in complete idleness for five or six months.
The women and children tend the flocks and herds. Milking the cows, churning butter, preparing their meals, and other domestic work, falls to the lot of the women. The men, as a rule, do nothing but gallop about all day long from yurta to yurta, drinking tea or koumiss, and gossiping with their neighbors.
An occasional pilgrimage to some temple, and horse-racing, are their favorite diversions.
The Mongol is an excellent father, and passionately fond of his children. Whenever we gave them anything they always divided it equally among all the members of their family, were it a lump of sugar, and the portion of each individual only a crumb.
The elders are always held in great respect, whose opinions and commands are implicitly followed. They are very hospitable. Any one who enters the yurta is regaled with tea and milk, and, for old acquaintance sake, a Mongol will open a bottle of koumiss.
On meeting an acquaintance, or even a stranger, the Mongol salutes him with, ‘How are your cattle?’ This is always one of the first questions, and they make no enquiry after your health until they have learned that your sheep, camels, and horses are fat and well to do.
We often had the most detailed questions asked us, such as: ‘In whose care had we left our cattle before our departure on such a long journey?’ ‘What was the weight of the kurdiuk (fat tail) on each of our sheep?’ ‘How many good amblers did we possess and how many fat camels?’
“With the approach of autumn the Mongols throw off some of their laziness. The camels, which have been at pasture all the summer, are now collected together and driven to Kalgan or Kuku-Khoto to prepare for the transport of tea and merchandise to and from Kiakhta. Some are employed in carrying salt from the salt lakes of Mongolia to the nearest towns of China Proper.
In this way, during the autumn and winter, all the camels of Northern and Eastern Mongolia are earning large profits for their owners. With the return of April, the transport ceases, the wearied animals are turned loose on the steppe, and their masters repose in complete idleness for five or six months.
Extreme Hardiness
Endowed by nature with a strong constitution, and trained from early childhood to endure hardships, the Mongol enjoys excellent health, notwithstanding all the discomforts of life in the desert. In the depth of winter, for a month at a time, they accompany the tea caravans. Day by day the thermometer registers upwards of minus 20° F, with a constant wind from the northwest, intensifying the cold until it is almost unendurable.
But in spite of it they keep their seat on their camels for fifteen hours at a stretch, with a keen wind blowing in their teeth. A man must be made of iron to stand this; but a Mongol performs the journey backwards and forwards four times during the winter, making upwards of 3,000 miles.”
But in spite of it they keep their seat on their camels for fifteen hours at a stretch, with a keen wind blowing in their teeth. A man must be made of iron to stand this; but a Mongol performs the journey backwards and forwards four times during the winter, making upwards of 3,000 miles.”
Bartering
(Przhevalsky next describes the lengthy ritualized social etiquette of dickering for the price of a sheep, which the Mongols will never undersell.)
The difficulties in buying milk are also very considerable, and nothing will induce them to sell it in cloudy weather.
We were sometimes successful in overcoming the scruples of one of the fair sex by a present of needles or red beads, but in such case she begged us to cover the vessel over when removing it from the yurta, in order that the heavens should not witness the wicked deed.
I may add that Mongols keep milk in the dirtiest way imaginable. It frequently happened that one of them would ride up to our tent with a jugful for sale, the lid and spout of the vessel having been smeared with fresh cow dung to prevent the liquid splashing out on the road. Cows’ teats are never washed before milking, nor are the vessels into which the milk is poured.”
The difficulties in buying milk are also very considerable, and nothing will induce them to sell it in cloudy weather.
We were sometimes successful in overcoming the scruples of one of the fair sex by a present of needles or red beads, but in such case she begged us to cover the vessel over when removing it from the yurta, in order that the heavens should not witness the wicked deed.
I may add that Mongols keep milk in the dirtiest way imaginable. It frequently happened that one of them would ride up to our tent with a jugful for sale, the lid and spout of the vessel having been smeared with fresh cow dung to prevent the liquid splashing out on the road. Cows’ teats are never washed before milking, nor are the vessels into which the milk is poured.”
The Magic of Dung
These last observations regarding issues of hygiene vis-à-vis milk present some challenging opportunities to stretch one’s mind on the topic. First of all, the Mongolian high plains are a very arid region. Livestock do not find themselves in mud, nor do humid conditions exist. Cheese curds were commonly dried in the open air directly on the roofs of their gers.
Mountain peoples of other regions, such as Kyrgyzstan and Tajikistan, to name only two, traditionally soured milk in vessels (commonly wooden tubs) that were never washed, and in fact often stood outdoors. Morning and evening milk would be added to a continually fermenting mass. Tasty curd was scooped out when ready to eat, or was processed further by drying for long-term
storage.
Likewise, traditional bakers worldwide never washed their wooden dough troughs in between bakings, and for the same reason: the stable cultures living in the crevices reliably produced the desired soured results, and the strength of the healthy culture deterred contamination by other microorganisms.
The use of fresh cow dung as an antiseptic, sanitary and healing agent has been practiced for centuries in India and Nepal. The first time I learned of the use of fresh cow dung as a housekeeping aid was in a modern Indian cookbook.
The author mentioned that her grandmother possessed such a fanatical obsession with cleanliness that she had her kitchen floor resurfaced with fresh cow dung not weekly, or even daily, but after every single meal. Fresh cow dung would be regularly applied to the floor of the kitchen, as well as to the floors of the sitting and sleeping areas of well-kept Indian homes.
Along with antiseptic qualities, the fresh dung repelled flies, mosquitoes and other insects. Farmers would reserve the dung for their customers.
Fresh cow dung has been used in Ayurvedic medicine and veterinary practice, applied to open wounds to speed healing, and in cases of psoriasis and eczema, to name but a few conditions for which it is prescribed. It is also used as a substrate for compound remedies, while urine has numerous medicinal uses as well.
Modern Indian practitioners today caution that the medicinal and antiseptic qualities of cow dung have been deteriorating in recent years due largely to unnatural foodstuffs fed to the animals. These include everything from invading leguminous weed species in pastures to fishmeal fed on farms. The resulting dung from these animals may not prevent infection.
These observations on alternative uses of cow dung are not an apology for careless hygiene, but they might suggest another, unconsidered dimension beyond our “fear of filth.”
Harmonious ecosystems, in which humans are only one part, achieve balance through the cooperation and interdependence of many visible and invisible components. When the balance is upset, the wisdom of the entire system is deranged, and illness results.
(It is interesting to note that in Przhevalsky’s account no one in his entourage falls ill from consuming any of the dairy products they purchase from the Mongols during their three years of travel. In fact, their primary complaint is that the butter and milk are always so expensive!)
Mountain peoples of other regions, such as Kyrgyzstan and Tajikistan, to name only two, traditionally soured milk in vessels (commonly wooden tubs) that were never washed, and in fact often stood outdoors. Morning and evening milk would be added to a continually fermenting mass. Tasty curd was scooped out when ready to eat, or was processed further by drying for long-term
storage.
Likewise, traditional bakers worldwide never washed their wooden dough troughs in between bakings, and for the same reason: the stable cultures living in the crevices reliably produced the desired soured results, and the strength of the healthy culture deterred contamination by other microorganisms.
The use of fresh cow dung as an antiseptic, sanitary and healing agent has been practiced for centuries in India and Nepal. The first time I learned of the use of fresh cow dung as a housekeeping aid was in a modern Indian cookbook.
The author mentioned that her grandmother possessed such a fanatical obsession with cleanliness that she had her kitchen floor resurfaced with fresh cow dung not weekly, or even daily, but after every single meal. Fresh cow dung would be regularly applied to the floor of the kitchen, as well as to the floors of the sitting and sleeping areas of well-kept Indian homes.
Along with antiseptic qualities, the fresh dung repelled flies, mosquitoes and other insects. Farmers would reserve the dung for their customers.
Fresh cow dung has been used in Ayurvedic medicine and veterinary practice, applied to open wounds to speed healing, and in cases of psoriasis and eczema, to name but a few conditions for which it is prescribed. It is also used as a substrate for compound remedies, while urine has numerous medicinal uses as well.
Modern Indian practitioners today caution that the medicinal and antiseptic qualities of cow dung have been deteriorating in recent years due largely to unnatural foodstuffs fed to the animals. These include everything from invading leguminous weed species in pastures to fishmeal fed on farms. The resulting dung from these animals may not prevent infection.
These observations on alternative uses of cow dung are not an apology for careless hygiene, but they might suggest another, unconsidered dimension beyond our “fear of filth.”
Harmonious ecosystems, in which humans are only one part, achieve balance through the cooperation and interdependence of many visible and invisible components. When the balance is upset, the wisdom of the entire system is deranged, and illness results.
(It is interesting to note that in Przhevalsky’s account no one in his entourage falls ill from consuming any of the dairy products they purchase from the Mongols during their three years of travel. In fact, their primary complaint is that the butter and milk are always so expensive!)
Will The Traditional Mongolian Diet Reassert Itself?
The following are excerpts from an article by N. Oyunbayar, originally printed in Ger Magazine, which hints that Mongolians may be reconsidering the changes a free market economy is wreaking on their health and traditional diet:
When the Russians pulled the plug on Mongolia’s aid in 1991, the economy went into a severe crisis. For many Mongolians it was their first experience of serious hunger. The staple traditional diet saw many people through this crisis. Mongolians traditionally have turned to foods that are high in protein and minerals, relying less on more seasonable foods like vegetables and fruits.
Out of necessity Mongolians have found creative and ingenious ways to use the milk of all five of the domestic animals in the country: sheep, cows, goats, camels and horses. Orom is the cream that forms on top of boiled milk; aaruul are dried curds and can be seen baking in the sun on top of gers in the summer; eetsgii is the dried cheese; airag is fermented milk of mares; nermel, is the home-brewed vodka that packs a punch; tarag is the sour yogurt; shar tos, melted butter from curds and orom, and tsagaan tos, boiled orom mixed sometimes with flour, natural fruits or eetsgii.
When the Russians pulled the plug on Mongolia’s aid in 1991, the economy went into a severe crisis. For many Mongolians it was their first experience of serious hunger. The staple traditional diet saw many people through this crisis. Mongolians traditionally have turned to foods that are high in protein and minerals, relying less on more seasonable foods like vegetables and fruits.
Out of necessity Mongolians have found creative and ingenious ways to use the milk of all five of the domestic animals in the country: sheep, cows, goats, camels and horses. Orom is the cream that forms on top of boiled milk; aaruul are dried curds and can be seen baking in the sun on top of gers in the summer; eetsgii is the dried cheese; airag is fermented milk of mares; nermel, is the home-brewed vodka that packs a punch; tarag is the sour yogurt; shar tos, melted butter from curds and orom, and tsagaan tos, boiled orom mixed sometimes with flour, natural fruits or eetsgii.
The method of drying the dairy products is common in preparing them. The Mongolians prepare enough dairy products for the long winter and spring. The traditions of using, producing and preparing these foods are stronger outside the main cities, where the population is more reliant on the vast herds for food. Dairy products, when sour in the summertime were thought to clean the stomach. B. Baljmaa, a dietitian and nutritionist at the National Nutrition Research Centre, says there is a genetic compatibility for the food. “Before 1992 there wasn’t much research in this area. But now we know from our research that Mongolians are better able to absorb foods with more acid. So, traditional food should be kept in the country...”
There is a big problem of importing poisonous foods and food which probably will cause the nutrition-related diseases common in more developed countries... . For example, fast food made with more oil, salt and sugar are considered the biggest dangers for human health. On the plus side prices for these imported foods are higher and only the wealthiest people can afford them; the poor people can’t buy and eat them no matter how much they desire them.
This means their poverty is protecting their health. We should boost our efforts to raise awareness on what foods protect your health.
There is a big problem of importing poisonous foods and food which probably will cause the nutrition-related diseases common in more developed countries... . For example, fast food made with more oil, salt and sugar are considered the biggest dangers for human health. On the plus side prices for these imported foods are higher and only the wealthiest people can afford them; the poor people can’t buy and eat them no matter how much they desire them.
This means their poverty is protecting their health. We should boost our efforts to raise awareness on what foods protect your health.