You want to hear the good and the bad, right? Well, you heard about my first successful attempt at hospitality. Photo to prove it and everything. I'm now 1 for 3 on successfully hosted dinner parties. Those 2 failures....therein lies more stories and so much more learning.
Epic Fail #1: lessons in substitution.
I've heard those stories, told them myself, and repeated those of others about disastrous substitutions. The low-fat recipe that tastes terrible until you change the fat-free yogurt to full-fat sour cream and add a bunch of cheese on top, or conversely the deliciously unhealthy cake which becomes a different dish entirely when you only put 1/3 of the sugar called for, substitute applesauce for oil, and add a bunch of shredded vegetable of some kind. The dual challenge of learning to cook here is having both the organizational skills to plan ahead and get any necessary ingredients from the large grocery stores 90 minutes away, as well as to substitute those necessary ingredients- either because you forgot to get it, weren't able to find it on your last trip, or are not satisfied with the Honduran equivalent of that ingredient that is available here.
I was excited to find a locally made version of cheese that is close enough to ricotta to have worked in calzones someone served me at their house, as well as in my previous triumph of stuffed manicotti. When I found a recipe for a quick, easy pasta dish that involved ricotta, it seemed like a good choice to use the rest of my cheese. The website touted it as both quick and easy, as well as delicious. The quick and easy part I can agree with. Delicious (and I add, edible) disappeared somewhere between putting in the Honduran ricotta (it turned out to have a much stronger flavor when being used alone), substituting green beans for peas (I don't think this was the key ingredient on which the success rose or fell, but maybe it made a difference?), and using the closest thing to lemon I had which was limes (lemons are hard to come by here, and I've now read an entire blog post by a gringa living in Honduras who describes all the different varieties of lime/lemons which can be found somewhere in the country but are not easily distinguished by the green or yellow color variation). Lime ricazon pasta turned out to be very different from Lemon Ricotta pasta. So different that not only was I not enthusiastic about finishing it (and I'm not that picky) but my guest picked around her plate at the other things, carefully avoiding the pasta after a couple of bites. The whole dish went into the compost heap and we had brownies-made-from-scratch instead.
Epic Fail #2: kitchen safety
Almost everything can be purchased here...for a price. Many stores have an import section, which often contains large Costco-sized bags (literally, Kirkland Signature brand a lot of times) of nuts, dried blueberries, or pumpkin spice cake mix. I even saw Trident Fisheries Alaskan smoked salmon here today for $35! Other stores have American brand items on the shelves in each section, and their prices are not exorbitant but are high enough that I just don't want to pay it. Some times I really miss affordable trail mix, dried fruit, and most of all right now, canned black beans. When priced out today, each can was almost $2 (normal small-ish can). I had found a bag of dry black beans and this seemed like the much more reasonable way to go.
[Warning: what follows may be the written equivalent of a slow-motion video of a car crash. You know what is coming, you wish you could stop it, you feel like crying out a warning, I know, I know. You all would have been helpful about 36 hours ago]. I patted myself on the back initially for remembering to soak the black beans the night before. Such planning ahead! I felt well on my way to mastering this cooking at home thing. After planning ahead, the next cooking skill is timing. Dinner guests expected at 5:30, meeting at 3pm, likely ending around 4:30pm. There will not be enough time to boil the beans between when I get home from the meeting and when my guests arrive. Solution: put the beans on the lowest flame possible on the stove and let them gradually come to a boil and cook for the necessary 2 hours. [editorial note: I've now been informed that CrockPots exist just for this purpose, and my neighbor has offered to loan me one whenever necessary.] Pot, water, soaked beans, lid, stove lit, off to my meeting. Meeting lasts until 4:45pm or so and was interrupted for me by a call from the nurses stating that they had a patient in labor who they needed me to see. End of meeting, head to labor room, check patient, make a plan, institute the plan (I'm much better at time management skills in the hospital than the kitchen!), and head home. 5:15pm. I smell smoke as I reach the corner below my house. Perhaps someone is burning trash, or has lit a fire in their fire pit. Next thought: maybe that's my house! I round the corner half expecting to see flames bursting through the concrete walls of my casita. No smoke or fire visible, so I breathe a sigh of relief.
That relief lasts about 30 seconds, until I get to the front door, smell a stronger smell of smoke, run to the kitchen, and see my pot of beans still cooking. There is still a glimmer of hope at this point that the burning smell is from the pot boiling over and the boiled over water burning around the flame. Unfortunately, as you could have predicted, this was not the case. The entire pot of beans had boiled dry and had begun turning into charcoal. I did a frantic rummage through my cupboards for anything that I could serve guests, and decided to throw in the figurative towel and reschedule for another day.
The good news? The pot survived its fiery ordeal, my guests were very gracious, and my spirit is not broken. I went grocery shopping again today, and will try cooking again!
The bad news? My house, despite 24 hours of every fan in the house working, every window thrown open, and newly purchased air freshener being spritzed around, still smells like chain smokers have lived here for 20 years. As I tell my patients, the only treatment I have left is tincture of time. And in this case, laughter is also the best medicine.
Epic Fail #1: lessons in substitution.
I've heard those stories, told them myself, and repeated those of others about disastrous substitutions. The low-fat recipe that tastes terrible until you change the fat-free yogurt to full-fat sour cream and add a bunch of cheese on top, or conversely the deliciously unhealthy cake which becomes a different dish entirely when you only put 1/3 of the sugar called for, substitute applesauce for oil, and add a bunch of shredded vegetable of some kind. The dual challenge of learning to cook here is having both the organizational skills to plan ahead and get any necessary ingredients from the large grocery stores 90 minutes away, as well as to substitute those necessary ingredients- either because you forgot to get it, weren't able to find it on your last trip, or are not satisfied with the Honduran equivalent of that ingredient that is available here.
I was excited to find a locally made version of cheese that is close enough to ricotta to have worked in calzones someone served me at their house, as well as in my previous triumph of stuffed manicotti. When I found a recipe for a quick, easy pasta dish that involved ricotta, it seemed like a good choice to use the rest of my cheese. The website touted it as both quick and easy, as well as delicious. The quick and easy part I can agree with. Delicious (and I add, edible) disappeared somewhere between putting in the Honduran ricotta (it turned out to have a much stronger flavor when being used alone), substituting green beans for peas (I don't think this was the key ingredient on which the success rose or fell, but maybe it made a difference?), and using the closest thing to lemon I had which was limes (lemons are hard to come by here, and I've now read an entire blog post by a gringa living in Honduras who describes all the different varieties of lime/lemons which can be found somewhere in the country but are not easily distinguished by the green or yellow color variation). Lime ricazon pasta turned out to be very different from Lemon Ricotta pasta. So different that not only was I not enthusiastic about finishing it (and I'm not that picky) but my guest picked around her plate at the other things, carefully avoiding the pasta after a couple of bites. The whole dish went into the compost heap and we had brownies-made-from-scratch instead.
Epic Fail #2: kitchen safety
Almost everything can be purchased here...for a price. Many stores have an import section, which often contains large Costco-sized bags (literally, Kirkland Signature brand a lot of times) of nuts, dried blueberries, or pumpkin spice cake mix. I even saw Trident Fisheries Alaskan smoked salmon here today for $35! Other stores have American brand items on the shelves in each section, and their prices are not exorbitant but are high enough that I just don't want to pay it. Some times I really miss affordable trail mix, dried fruit, and most of all right now, canned black beans. When priced out today, each can was almost $2 (normal small-ish can). I had found a bag of dry black beans and this seemed like the much more reasonable way to go.
[Warning: what follows may be the written equivalent of a slow-motion video of a car crash. You know what is coming, you wish you could stop it, you feel like crying out a warning, I know, I know. You all would have been helpful about 36 hours ago]. I patted myself on the back initially for remembering to soak the black beans the night before. Such planning ahead! I felt well on my way to mastering this cooking at home thing. After planning ahead, the next cooking skill is timing. Dinner guests expected at 5:30, meeting at 3pm, likely ending around 4:30pm. There will not be enough time to boil the beans between when I get home from the meeting and when my guests arrive. Solution: put the beans on the lowest flame possible on the stove and let them gradually come to a boil and cook for the necessary 2 hours. [editorial note: I've now been informed that CrockPots exist just for this purpose, and my neighbor has offered to loan me one whenever necessary.] Pot, water, soaked beans, lid, stove lit, off to my meeting. Meeting lasts until 4:45pm or so and was interrupted for me by a call from the nurses stating that they had a patient in labor who they needed me to see. End of meeting, head to labor room, check patient, make a plan, institute the plan (I'm much better at time management skills in the hospital than the kitchen!), and head home. 5:15pm. I smell smoke as I reach the corner below my house. Perhaps someone is burning trash, or has lit a fire in their fire pit. Next thought: maybe that's my house! I round the corner half expecting to see flames bursting through the concrete walls of my casita. No smoke or fire visible, so I breathe a sigh of relief.
That relief lasts about 30 seconds, until I get to the front door, smell a stronger smell of smoke, run to the kitchen, and see my pot of beans still cooking. There is still a glimmer of hope at this point that the burning smell is from the pot boiling over and the boiled over water burning around the flame. Unfortunately, as you could have predicted, this was not the case. The entire pot of beans had boiled dry and had begun turning into charcoal. I did a frantic rummage through my cupboards for anything that I could serve guests, and decided to throw in the figurative towel and reschedule for another day.
The good news? The pot survived its fiery ordeal, my guests were very gracious, and my spirit is not broken. I went grocery shopping again today, and will try cooking again!
The bad news? My house, despite 24 hours of every fan in the house working, every window thrown open, and newly purchased air freshener being spritzed around, still smells like chain smokers have lived here for 20 years. As I tell my patients, the only treatment I have left is tincture of time. And in this case, laughter is also the best medicine.
