What's that? Milk? Camel? Fermented? Well OK!

cm - You are in the vast Gobi, with no water, no food, and the scourge of nature’s barren emptiness spread out before you like a sandy ocean full of invisible sharks. Then, you see a sleeping camel - a sign of hope for life. As you approach, you see a baby camel nursing; but wait - something is wrong. The mother isn’t moving, and you don’t see the slow rising and falling of respiration in its ribs. It doesn’t matter. You are too famished. You bend down next to the small, nursing camel, and begin suckling, taking in the sour yet rich milk, fermenting in the small udder of your rotting surrogate mother.

Hopefully you wake up at this point, and think “wow, that was a strange dream! I think I’ll go have a glass of regular, pasteurized milk to settle my disgusted stomach.” Maybe, however, this vision has possessed you, like a viral demon, just after you’ve taken you first sip of camel-milk airag. Airag is a term usually reserved for the fermented milk of mares, but fermented camel’s milk often goes by the same name. I am told that camel airag and horse airag are like apples and oranges – totally different tastes. Mongolians hold mare’s milk airag in the highest esteem, which probably has something to do with the exalted position of horses in this culture (during Chinggis Khan’s time a man could get the death penalty for whipping his horse in the face), but camel milk airag is also quite popular (however, both can cause a mean case of what my Mongolian friend calls the “quick shits” in the uninitiated digestive system).

So, we were lucky enough to procure some camel’s milk airag at a market fair. This stuff is the real deal, straight from the producer who lives in Bayanhongor, 600 km from Ulaanbaatar. Let’s go to the tape to learn more about this fascinating product. I mean, before I came here, I wasn’t even aware that it was possible to ferment dairy products.

So, from this picture you can see how the majority of milk products are bottled outside of the capital. Vendors simply take any available plastic bottle and fill it with their product. No safety seals here – just look at the seller and hope for the best – this stuff is not pasteurized.


OK, the pour started with a slight chunkiness, but became more consistent as the pour progressed. This is not encouraging. Is it really worth it to milk a camel for this stuff?


Now the taste test. mmmm… this is hard to describe. There is definitely a dairy taste there, but then the fermentation imbues the concoction with a crispness that is hard to describe… maybe like a glass of heavy cream cut with ¼ apple vinegar. I am sure this is an acquired taste, but I am not sure that I want to suffer through the acquiring. I must say, though, that I would rather drink this than eat fat, which is another traditional delicacy.


Ooh, look at that mustache! Screw the “Got Milk?” campaign! I am signing up for the “Got Camel Milk Airag?” campaign. This unique taste has taught me that there is a fine line between the word “ferment” and the word “rot.” This is just another beautiful example of the durability and resiliency of mind, body, and spirit that you find all over Mongolia. These people take lemons and make lemonade. No, wait, lemons are expensive here. They don’t even get lemons – they get camel milk and make a fermented milkshake… and like it!