Must have tortillas

Corn tortillas

When cooking for El Jefe's family, of course I try to prepare foods that I think they will like. They always do like most, if not all of it, except for that first disappointing Thanksgiving.

But, I also try to expose them to something new or maybe something prepared a little different way. Their food repertoire is very limited and in general, not very healthy, lots of meat, fat, and virtually no vegetables. They themselves have expressed interest in eating healthier and are rightly concerned about the weight of some of the children. My sister-in-law B often asks me how to prepare things that I've made.

When I spend two or more days preparing and cooking, though, I just don't have time to make tortillas, too. One time, I asked my sister-in-law if she would make the tortillas for the party if I would buy the ingredients. It was a bold step, but I really wish the family would realize that I am only one person and there is only so much I can do and still serve all the food hot and fresh. I don't know if it is Honduran custom, our family's custom, or because I'm a gringa, but usually no one lifts a finger!

I used to give a lot of parties in the U.S., even neighborhood gatherings where we would have 50-120 guests. While it was a lot of work and sometimes stressful to plan and organize, the huge difference was that friends, family, and neighbors would help! Among my good friends, the first thing asked when invited to a party was "What can I bring?" They would always bring food, drink, and/or help set up or clean up.

Oops, I'm getting off-track. So....for that party, B made what seemed like 40 pounds (18 kilos) of tortillas, of which about five were eaten. I gave her and la madre a bagful each to take home, put the rest in the freezer and we ate them for a month before we ran out.

Since it is the custom to eat corn tortillas with barbecue, I knew that I had to have tortillas for the last party, even though El Jefe tells me that his mother is the only one in the family that really likes corn tortillas. While grocery shopping, I happened to notice a little boy selling corn tortillas on the street (a miracle in itself as I have never seen anyone selling tortillas on the street in La Ceiba before) and bought a little bag of them. It was only about a dozen very small tortillas, but I knew full well that with all the food I was planning, no one was going to fill up on tortillas.

Right before dinner, when I went to wrap the tortillas in foil to heat them in the oven, I thought, "OMG! I thought there were more tortillas than that!" We had only 7 tortillas for 11 people. (I know Hondurans are laughing at this right now.) El Jefe had eaten the rest for breakfast. "How could you?!" I cried. "Well, you know they aren't going to eat tortillas with all this meat available," he explained. "What am I going to say to the 8th person who asks for a tortilla?" I asked.

To make matters worse − or maybe better − when I went to the kitchen to get the last of the ribs, for the last person who wanted seconds, I discovered the tortillas still wrapped in foil in the oven. Everyone else was already through eating! Oops. I brought them to the table anyway and gave them to la madre, laughingly saying that I forgot. Everyone had a good laugh about the forgetful gringa. No Honduran would ever forget to serve the tortillas, ever. La madre was too full to eat any, but took them home with her.

I often serve tortillas, because TexMex is something I like to cook and the family and friends always like it, too. But in past occasions when I didn't have tortillas with an army-sized, Samuri wrestler-style meal, la madre has whispered sadly to El Jefe, "No hay bastimento?" ("There is no bastimento*")

Later, I asked the group (who were all moaning about how much they had eaten), if, when there was soooo much food like tonight, was it really necessary to have tortillas, too? It wasn't asked in a judgmental way, just a please-teach-this-poor-gringa-the-ways-of-Honduras way. Most said that it wasn't absolutely necessary, but la madre proclaimed, "Me hace falta" (I miss it or I need it) so that was that. Note to me: Must serve tortillas with all meals.


*Bastimento: The Real Acadamia Española dictionary defines it as an accompaniment, like bread, tortillas, or plantains, that is served with food.

Here in La Ceiba, Honduras, all meals must be served with a bastimento of either cooked bananas or plantains, or corn or flour tortillas, or on special occasions, a plain slice of Wonder-type bread. It doesn't matter if you have potatoes, rice, spaghetti, or three kinds of starches, you still have to have the bastimento, too. However, don't overdo it: you must never, ever serve bananas and tortillas in the same meal. That would be like serving potatoes with spaghetti in the U.S. So now you know.

La Gringa had an epiphany

I wrote the article below more than a year ago, and just never posted it because it sounded so gloomy. A recent discussion on our Honduras Living group about "the biggest culture shock" reminded me of this and I decided to go ahead and put it out there for your perusal:

Epiphany

I had an epiphany last night. I woke up in the middle of the night, wide awake for no apparent reason. I had this thought: "I lost my innocence in Honduras. That's why I'm not happy here."

No, I don't mean "that" kind of innocence. Haha.

I mean that I lost my trust in people. My expectation that most people generally do the right thing. My certainty that most people are honest. My belief that people can and should be trusted until they give a reason not to be. My faith in "Do unto others as you would have them do unto you."

But the things I have seen and experienced in Honduras have shaken all of those beliefs and left a kind of empty feeling behind.

Now, don't get me wrong. I was no wide-eyed innocent. I was always a little cynical by nature and an auditor by profession, so I was taught to be skeptical, ask questions, and analyze the facts of any situation.

But Honduras has changed me, and in this respect, I don't much like the untrusting person that I've become.

_____

Now today, almost in 2008, I think that I'm a little more content than I was back then, partly because I have this blog and have readers and friends not just in Honduras but in other countries many of whom can relate to experiences that I have had. It does help to share with people who have been through the same thing. It helps me to laugh and be politically incorrect about the things that are so different and sometimes seem so upside-down.

While I still would be much happier with the Pollyanna viewpoint that most people are decent and honest, I am more realistic. I always hope for the best, but don't always expect it. I try to have more patience and try, try, try but often fail to keep a sense of humor about things that I can't do anything about.

Just to head off any discussions of culturally different definitions of trust, decency, and honor, I have to say that trust in Honduras is not just an issue with gringos or me personally. A recent National Report of Transparency showed that 47% of the Honduran people surveyed don't trust anyone (including family members) and 46% have very little trust in others for a whopping 93% of the total population! Hondurans may have accepted the situation, but I don't think they enjoy living without trust any more than I do.

And, yeah, I still hope that by treating others honestly and decently, that they will do the same for me. Sometimes they do, and sometimes they don't. I certainly notice and appreciate the times that they do much more now than I used to.



A few semi-related articles:

It's things like these
How peaceful are you?
Christmas in June or "Will you buy me some underwear?"
A Honduran proverb

El Jefe's dream

Martha Stewart cooking turkey with Russell Crowe

We were sitting at dinner and El Jefe said that he had a dream about me last night. Oh, yeah? says me. What did I do? He said I had a TV cooking show on one of the local La Ceiba television stations.

I guess this dream was a result of our dinner conversation with his family, where I am widely regarded as the gourmet chef of the family. Heheheh. Or maybe it was because of all the time I spent and trouble I had with the genoise cake on Sunday.

(The cake was taking so much time that, for awhile, I was afraid that we would have only potato salad and cake for dinner, if that much. I learned a lesson: don't double a genoise recipe because those 8 eggs will turn into 15 cups of foam which will not fit in your bowl which is sitting in a hot pan of water on the stove!)

I asked if I was speaking Spanish in the show. He said I was speaking English but everyone understood me anyway. Those things always work out in dreams, don't they?

At first everything was going fine and I was impressing the audience with my skills, but all of a sudden the scene changed. Something I was demonstrating wasn't working out properly and I started crying right in front of the camera!

Well, I guess we don't need a dream analyst to figure out this one, do we?