Cooking in the campo is a unique experience. My kitchen is not equipped with all (or rather any) of the fancy appliances that can make anyone seem like a top chef. My kitchen doesn’t even have refrigerator or an oven. Most of the time it is just me, the skillet and the spatula; and we have a special understanding.
I have spent a year of cooking in the campo, and I am proud of the fact that I have yet to poison or starve myself. My weekly grocery outings to Bocas Island used to take an hour, and now I can now zip through the little tienda in 10 minutes. My purchases are the same every week, that is because my menu is the same every week. Stick with what works right? But what was I going to do for a month, without leaving to purchase “the usuals?” Once again, I turn to the community. It is not likely that my community members began their meals by sautéing Onions and Garlic in EVOO, so what do they do? I was ready to learn. But just in case, I was prepared =)
So, I started my month off with the table of goodies pictured above, a little excessive? Maybe. But even though I was excited about experimenting with local produce, I was not about to find myself eating white rice and boiled bananas like I had with my host families.
The fresh veggies were the first to go; the carrots, bell peppers, zucchini, all gone within 5 days. The onion collection remained for about 10. My 2 dozen eggs were next. And then the apples. Who would have guessed an apple could have such an effect on ones self control. The crunch of my last juicy green apple was so bitter sweet, literally.
But, I knew this point would come, when my fresh veggies would run out. That’s what the canned goods were for…. I was prepared right? Right, except for one thing, a can opener. But, it’s ok, I assured myself, the can opener was invented 50 years after the can anyways. I will just open my veggies with a knife like my community members open cans, when they have cans.
My first and only attempt went like so. I grabbed the knife in one hand, the can firmly in the other, and began my attack in a vertical motion, not unlike my early attempts in killing scorpions, before I became wise. My intuition told me to just go along the out edge of the can with small punctures, one alongside the other until the lid falls out, or I pull it up. I still wasn’t sure about that last part, and it didn’t matter because I never made it that far. I was so disappointed in my hand eye coordination; I had thought myself a better target. There were a few close calls where the knife would completely miss the can and come within a hair of my base hand. This was enough to remind me that my main form of medical practice in prevention, prevention, prevention. What I was doing was stupid, and I know my mom would tell me so.
I ended up making enough holes, semi close together, to reach a fork into the can and pull those stubborn mushroom slices out one by one. By that time my pasta was cold and it was dark out. I hate cooking when it is dark out. That is when irreversible mistakes happen, like confusing the vanilla for the Soy Sauce. So, for the remaining cans I would simply ask anyone over the age of 7 for help.
In my previous life, as a college student is San Luis Obispo, I was an advocate for buying local produce. This was fairly simple with a Farmers Market every day within driving range, or walking distance from my house. But, I must admit that if something couldn’t be found at the farmers markets I would ultimately pick it up at the grocery store. Ohhhhh…. the grocery store, oh I should say, the “Supermarket.” Because that is what it is, “super.” It has super powers and everything. It has the power to make one believe that seasons don’t exist on this planet. Any fruit or vegetable you want is in season… sure it may have to travel across 4 continents to get to you, but somewhere in the world it is in season, that means you can have it.
Anyways, we don’t have such super magical markets here in Buena Esperanza, but we DO have farmers. Campesinos! The same men and women that plant, tend to and harvest the vegetables are the same ones that carry them out of the farm and to my front doors step. I exchange money for their hard work and knowledgeable farming practices, and a (sometimes) appetizing ingredient. There is no middle man, just me, and the farmer. This is a pretty foreign concept for most of us. It is amazing how far removed we have become from our food.
Here are some of the goodies I got from my compesinos:
This is “Buchu” at least that is what my community calls it. Did you know there are thousands of types of bananas in the world.?
In general I would say that us Americans like to have choices, especially when it comes to food. I mean have you seen our cereal aisle? However, one could spend their whole life in the states and never know that there is more than one type of banana, well I guess unless they read my blog =) But the others wouldn’t know because frankly we won’t buy a banana that does not look like a banana, or what we think a banana should look like. So while the rest of the world (including me for 2 years) enjoys these flavorful varieties. There is surly someone in the states without the slightest.
This is Guandu: My community calls it “Frijoles de la Finca.” It has the same cooking time as rice which makes for a convenient one pot meal… and it’s tasty!
This is Dasheen and ñamé. Root vegetables are staples in the diets here. Nampi, Yucca and Otoe are few others roots vegetables. All with a starchy constancy and rather plain tasting. The Indians usually eat them with just a little salt. But I think they are best in a stew or soup. Something with a bit more flavor.
This is Noni: Sound familiar? “Noni has been reported to have a range of health benefits for colds, cancer, diabetes, asthma, hypertension, pain, skin infection, high blood pressure, mental depression, atherosclerosis and arthritis.” Read more
To me, It smells like old dirty socks that a wet dog had been wearing, and it tastes the same. Not worth it.
This is bread: Every Friday (or at least every Friday she felt like it ) a woman would make bread and her children would go house to house selling it. But I baked my own bread too. I know that baking as opposed to cooking is supposed to be more of a scientific process, but I took to it with complete reckless abandonment. I would do the whole yeast, flour, egg thing, but then I would mix in whatever ingredients and spices I had on hand, and wait to see how it would yield. I was oven-less of course so I resorted to the “double pila” method seen below. Large pot called a ‘pila’ with about a half inch of water lining the bottom with a smaller pila placed inside, resting on top of any empty tuna can.
These are my spouts: Not from the farmers, but still I think worth sharing. I mastered my sprouting technique, with lentils mostly, assuring that every other day I would have fresh sprouts to incorporate into one of my meals. It is fun watching them grow….
This is my coconut: I had my own coconut delivery man! Sounds pretty exotic right? To have your own coconut delivery man, kind of like having your own pool boy. Yeah, well this was a little different (like most things here). Turns out he was not to reliable and only brought me coconuts when he needed to buy more batteries for his radio. This was a huge sacrifice on my part. I ended up paying double, first with money and second with my peace and quiet. Because as soon as he got his 50 cents it was exchanged for the batteries, and then his radio would blare in the community rancho (right outside my house) for hours!!!! But I rationed that nature’s juice was worth it, in small doses of course because coconut is known to act as laxative, and I didn’t want to pay a third time!!!
This is chocolatee: I plan on doing an informative blog post one day about chocolate, because it is so fascinating, but I didn’t want to leave it out here. We are in the middle of Cacao harvest season so I ate or drank chocolate daily. Yummy!
This is a fish: Of course I don’t eat fish, but they do! Here is a proud Fisherman with his catch of the day.
Conclusion…Ummm....
It really is not all white rice and boiled bananas here, and I can support my local farmers here, just the way I had at the local farmers markets back home.
And, I am thankful for Ezra Warner who invented the can opener.
Time for lunch…..
Meti
