The Italian Job

About two weeks ago, I made like Fivel and headed west to San Salvador for my mandatory mid-service medical check-up exam. I spent two days running around the capital to a monton of doctors’ offices and trips to the lab to drop off multiple “samples”.

As I was sitting reclined in the dentist’s chair, watching on a monitor as he cleaned my teeth (sorry, Dr. Glor, my ES dentist has cooler equipment than you do), it finally hit me that I am now playing the back nine of my service. My first half of service flew by. I can only imagine how quickly the second half with go.

With that lovely little realization forever flashing in the back of my mind, I am trying to do as much, experience as much and share as much as I can, knowing that in life, unlike golf, there are no mulligans. So just like all the cheesy Peace Corps propaganda says, I’m doing as much as a can so I “never have to say ‘I should have’”.

The Italian Job

One of the activities I enjoy most with my adopted family, the Alfaros, is cooking and baking. It’s always a blast to cajole the boys, Jonathan and Melkin, into helping Ana and me bake up a batch of cookies or brownies (thanks to the many mixes sent by Janet and Vi) and see their eyes light up with the first bite of their creation.

Over the last four months, we have made chocolate chip and oatmeal cookies, muffins, brownies and pizza topped with pineapple, ham, veggies and spicy pepperoni, to name a few. Experimenting in the kitchen and expanding the kids’ pallets has been a fun and interesting experience. There hasn’t been much the kids don’t like, much to my pleasant surprise, and they often ask me what new thing we can make next.

So, as mid-September rolled around, we were all gearing up for Jonathan’s 11^th birthday. I told him as my gift to him, I would make him whatever he wanted for his special birthday dinner, just name it. After quite a few days of pondering and debate, Jonathan finally decided what he wanted: lasagna. I was very surprised at this request, honestly expecting him to pick hamburgers or chicken and rice. I asked him if he had ever had lasagna before, which he embarrassedly admitted no. One of the Pizza Hut commercials or Nickelodeon shows like iCarly must have introduced the idea. I proceeded to explain all that the wonderful world of lasagna entailed, and asked one last time if he was absolutely, positively sure that that was what he wanted for his birthday dinner. He gave an unequivocally affirmative response. Lasagna it is, then.

On Jonathan’s birthday, after another lackluster day at my cooperative, I was ecstatic to have the opportunity to cook what I was certain to be a homerun meal. Just a few months earlier I made lasagna for my friends Karl and Matt, where Karl ravenously ate half a pan himself. Obviously a slam-dunk. I rode the trusty 374 bus from my town into Santa Rosa de Lima, a mere hour and twenty minute ride, to buy all the necessary ingredients for the meal. Following my Aunt Debbie’s famous recipe, I bought four different types of cheese, ground beef super especial, fresh veggies, lasagna noodles and disposable tin pan. Also while in town, I picked up a birthday cake and candles to top off the celebration.

Following another hour and twenty minute, jostling, jolting bus ride, I arrived back in town. A quick trip to my house to grab a few spices and additional ingredients, and I was off to the Alfaros’ to start cooking. Jonathan was still in school, with about an hour and a half until dismissal; the perfect amount of time for preparation and baking, ensuring the house to be filled with the rich smells of Italian goodness when he got home.

My tias, Golla, Carmela and Marta, along with Abuela Maria, were all surprised by all the ingredients I brought with me and just looked on in utter shock and amazement as I started getting busy. At this point, I knew my way around their cocina well enough, and they trusted me enough to just do my thing.

First things first, I got the water set to boil on the back burner of the stovetop. Next, it was time to start chopping the vegetables to hide throughout the lasagna. Jonathan, and especially Ana, casi no les gustan vegetables, but still desperately need their nutrients. Ana is fifteen years old and only about 80 pounds on a good day, and doesn’t have many sources of vitamins and minerals. Until I can effectively convince my little friends that vegetable are in fact delicious, I don’t mind concealing them.

Now, I don’t exactly know how to make my own tomato sauce, but I can doctor up your basic store bought variety pretty well. In a sauce pan, I squeezed a packet of tomato paste, two packets of Ranchero tomato sauce and two packets of the Queso variety, along with about half a dozen roma tomatoes, onions and water. Top it off with some dried basil and my personal favorite, McCormick’s Pepper Medley, and shizzam, an awesome sauce.

Some more vegetables, onions and green pepper, got hidden in with the ground beef that I started browning in a frying pan on a third burner of the Alfaros’ stove. I am pretty sure their stove had ever been so crowded, and I could see a look of worry as they watched me juggle the three pots and pans I was using. They kept informing me that the house was starting to fill with unfamiliar smells, and asking if I was sure I wasn’t burning things. Nothing was burning; food can be fragrant.

While the noodles were finishing boiling, I mixed requeson, my ricotta substitute (sometimes you have to get creative), with an egg and ground pepper. This will have proved to be a big mistake about an hour down the road. Once the noodles were done, it was time to layer the lasagna the way my Aunt Debbie taught me over the phone the first time I made her recipe to impress a former boyfriend. The quickest way to a man’s heart is through his stomach, right?

1. Sauce, to prevent the noodles from sticking

2. Noodles

3. Ricotta, or in El Salvador, Requeson, mixture

4. Sauce

5. Noodles

6. Ground Beef with hidden vegetables

7. Sauce

8. Noodles

9. Melty Cheese; Aunt Debbie recommends cheddar, El Salvador allows Quesillo

10. Sauce

11. Noodles

12. Sauce

13. Mozzarella

With about thirty minutes left until Jonathan would arrive home from school, the stunning, to me at least, lasagna went into the oven. Without fail, about a half hour into baking, the dish really started to smell wonderful, the “Rosy, ¿estás segura que no está quemando?” were abundant, and Jonathan came home with a huge smile on his face as the aroma of deliciousness hit his nose.

Ana set and decorated the table for all of us to eat together, a rarity in Salvadoran culture. (Meals tend to be eaten in shifts.) The lasagna came out of the oven looking absolutely perfect, and I set it on the table to settle and cool off a bit. The kids, and adults, looked curiously and excitedly at the pan of lasagna cooling on the table. We took photos to pass the waiting time, and Jonathan was so excited when it was finally time to cut the lasagna. Naturally, the Birthday Boy got the first piece, and the rest of the posse of kids and family followed.

When I finally sat myself down to enjoy the fruits of my labors, I noticed that there was really quite a lot of food still on people’s plates. Now, I know we in my family tend to eat quickly, but the amount of food was inordinate. Jonathan just picked, Henri ate only the filling leaving the noodles, and Ana ate abnormally quietly. Melkin, the garbage disposal of the family, just shoveled the food into his mouth without actually tasting. Not exactly a good gauge. As I looked around from plate to plate, face to face, it hit me that these were not happy, satisfied people enjoying their meal. These were silent people, with polite smiles, choking down terrible food. But how could that be? This was near PERFECT. It tasted heavenly to me.

Finally the realization sank in, I had crashed and burned on this one. This was, in a word, a disaster. Finally, I broke the silence and said to Jonathan, “You don’t really like that, do you?” He said, “Well, actually no, I don’t.” I let him know it was ok, that he didn’t need to eat the rest, which he didn’t, and the others followed suit. The floodgates of “constructive criticism” then opened. Jonathan told me it was just not good, Henri told me it would be better without noodles, and Ana told me that the requeson was demasiado simple, the pepper was not tasty and that it needed salt. A lot of salt.

Now, I was doing a pretty good job of maintaining my composure, keeping the smiling face, until I realized how much was wasted—food, time, money—and that I failed to make a Jonathan’s birthday special. He hated my gift to him. I focused on keeping the smile as I quickly cleared the plates and gave the scraps to the dogs.

I figured we might as well just have cake. I placed the candles, lit them and we all sang happy birthday. Jonathan, usually a pretty serious kid, finally smiled a bit. Everyone seemed to genuinely enjoy the cake. At least I did something right.

I cleaned up as quickly as I could before packing up the leftovers, not much after all the waste, and made an excuse to leave, saying I was tired. The truth was, I hadn’t felt so bad in this country since a random stranger came up to me and said, in English, “Go home, gringa. We don’t want you here.” My cooking is something I pride myself on, something I am good at and enjoy doing, and something I really like sharing with others. The fact that my Salvadoran family didn’t like my cooking really bruised my ego and hurt my feelings. Not to mention I felt like I ruined Jonathan’s birthday. It took all I had to hold back tears.

Once back at my house, I did cry. I’m sure it wasn’t just the lasagna, but all the daily little things and emotions that get you down that finally just came flooding out through my eyeballs. At the end of the day, I realized that the lasagna disaster had nothing to do with me, but entirely with tastes. Things that are tacky in the States are beautiful here; food that is disgusting at home is delicious here; insults in America are complements here. My personal favorite, “My, you’re looking awfully fat today!” It’s just a matter of culture. Now, finally, over a year in this country, I’m finally getting it, and more importantly, accepting it.

In addition to having supper club with my friends, I have begun close work with my town’s environmental committee. We are focusing on reforestation and water conservation. This past Friday, we also hosted a Stove Team International cocina mejorada demonstration.

This coming Thursday, I will begin work with a youth group that has been working with a Spanish NGO. The NGO managed to donate five beautiful computers with the intent of starting a cyber café with the kids. As it turns out, the group ran out of funding to sign an internet service contract, something essential to running a cyber café. My objective with working with these youth is to educate them on running a small business, and to write and win a grant for start-up funds for the cyber. They already have the equipment, a location and a definite demand (our town doesn’t have an internet café). Hopefully we will successfully work together to start a small sustainable business.

All in all, I am managing to keep busy and continue to have a positive experience. I cannot begin to thank those of you who continually remember me. Contact with you is what keeps me going on the bad days. I keep all your letter, cards and photos in what I call me “happy box”. When I have a bad day, I just open it up, pick a card at random, read it and it reassures me that I’m not alone.

A special thank you goes out to Janet, who just sent me a killer package of cookie and cake mixes, as well as my favorite, dark chocolate. The kids and I already have plans to bake the funfetti cake on Halloween to celebrate. Also, thanks go out to my parents, as always, for the cards, photos, news magazines and other remesas they send my way.

I will be home for the holidays between December 15^th and January 4^th and would love to see as many of you as possible. On Sunday, December 19^th, I will be running in the Freezer 5k with my amazing cousin, Darcie, and fantastic friends Jessica and Stefan. If anyone is interested in joining us, let me know!

Thanks for reading!