Buttermilk

So a couple of weeks ago, the data mining guys (all local Afghans) asked Ameel (fellow intern) and me to join them for a cookie and buttermilk. Buttermilk, to my surprise, is not just what Wilbur got bathed in before going to the fair. Rather, in this part of the world it is fermented milk. While the gesture was lovely, the experience was less lovely. To each his/her own, but to my unaccustomed palate it tasted like one of the more rancid, unpleasant things I have tasted. Be warned if offered such delicacies.