Bits and Bites

First the bits (as in pieces of eight)

You’ll note the ads are missing from the old blog. It seems our account has been suspended. We are not sure why, but we suspect that some folks keen to help out have spent some time clicking the ads repeatedly, to help financially. It’s a nice thought, but since most of these ads are for small businesses that should get to decide on their own which organizations they support, please don’t do that unless you truly are interested in their product. Besides, Google has detectors. We still get a bit of money just having the ads there, even if nobody follows the links.

Getting a charity number in Canada is proving as slow as getting DSL in Costa Rica. Several people still want to help with or without a tax break, so shortly on the blog there should appear a donate button, that will allow you to put something in the coffers. I can’t guarantee you’ll ever see a tax receipt for it, but I can guarantee it will be put to good use.

Now for the bites (the tasty kind).

Most people eat the same dozen or so things over and over again their whole life. If you doubt this, keep track of your personal diet for a month and see for yourself where you fit. At home, we have a winter set with pasta, stews, roasts, chili, cooked vegetables, etc., for large meals and breads, preserved fruits, and cheese for smaller meals. Our summer set has lots of barbeque and salads, breads, and fruits in season.

Here in Cahuita, we’ve been determined to experience a new diet. Breakfast is fruit – pineapple, mango, avacado, occasionally papaya or cantaloupe, and Dianne’s weird thing of the day. The weird thing is something she buys from the fruit and vegetable truck because she has never seen one before. First we guess if it’s a fruit or vegetable, since it is not always obvious, then we figure out which bits to eat and which not to. We are never sure if it should be cooked or not and suspect the locals would find humor in us eating the equivalent of raw potatoes or boiled pears. Lunch is a restaurant meal, eat in or take out, usually casada – a marriage of rice and beans, salad, meat, and fried yucca or potato. Supper is usually corn chips and Dianne’s amazing salsa, or fried corn tortillas stuffed with salsa and smoked cheddar cheese, washed down with Canadian heresy – beer with lots of ice.

But wait – we’ve simply swapped for a different dozen! (weird thing not withstanding). “Can’t have that” says the girl with the bandaged finger, and she proceeds to buy a cookbook of local recipes for foods she’s never seen, written in a language she doesn’t speak. “No opportunity for things to go wrong here”, I say as I pick up an extra couple bottles of beer, figuring they can be used to soothe bruised egos, put out fires, or just get the taste out of my mouth. After a couple false translating starts that she’s already written about, which based on her interpretation of what had to be done to the vegetables had me worried we’d be buying a leather apron or adding whips and chains to the utensil drawer, yesterday was the moment of truth.

“Need help?” says I, while reading my book on the porch. “It’s under control”, says she, accompanied by the sounds of hot oil and running water, and tantalizing smells wafting their way through the cabana. After a bit, I could no longer contain my curiosity, and made my way to the kitchen on pretense of getting a beer. Mounds of dishes, pots and pans, flour on the floor, counter, and even the tip of her nose, she grins and asks me if I think the bowl of mashed yucca weighs 2 kilos or not. I estimate it at a little over 1, and leave with my beer, hoping this is as good as it smells, because the quantity I saw could feed a small army and Costa Rica doesn’t have one.

Another hour, the moment of truth, and it was – excellent, needing only a red wine (unfortunately still behind the police seals) to complement it. It will be very good tomorrow, too I hope. And maybe the next day.

We spent an hour eating, discussing minor tweaks to make the recipe our own, (including cutting it in thirds), whether or not we were the only people in Costa Rica eating pork on Good Friday, and then we realized we’ve only added item thirteen. Well, it’s a start, and there are lots more pages in the book. And beer in the store.

Note for the friends of Di that usually meet on MSN

She won´t be here today. Something her tongue touched in a restaurant has made her under the weather for the past day or so. She is much better today, so no need to worry, and I´m sure she´ll be back online tomorrow. (It wasn´t her cooking, honest!)