the torture of being spoiled

It's been so hard to write this, because every time I do my tummy starts to rumble and I head to the kitchen, looking for goodies instead of continuing, but I'll try to explain my situation, the torture of being spoiled…

So there I was, sitting at the Calypso Cantina, flipping through a laminated menu. Passing through all the pages of what I could have, I couldn't pick what I wanted.
"I'll just have what you're having", I finally said with a sigh.
"What have you been eating out there?" Brandon asked.
'Out there' being Casa Cayuco on Bastimentos, it's rare to actually be in town going to restaurants.
"Well you know, whatever Sue makes. I don't have to really decide",  I say gesturing to the menu. I start to gaze off into the distance and get a glazed look in my eyes. "Yesterday, wow she made this really cool thing" my mouth starting to water, "it was so good, it was like mashed potatoes but with garlic and really creamy, but not too creamy, but smooth, and, Oh! The night before that though, there was fish that was fresh caught and she cooked it in these different spices, but it wasn't spicy, but then I added hot sauce. Oh and the appetizers, there were these fresh kind of spring rolls, with…" I feel the saliva building up as I can't quite fully describe one meal before jumping to another. "and the things she does with onions, I'm already a fan of onions, but she makes some that are sweet, oh and garlic aioli, she makes all her own stock and sauces. I like that nothing goes to waste, and..."
"Yes, we're ready" Brandon says to the server I don't realize is waiting behind me.
I close the menu, and remember what Jenn says about 'Cheating on your food' by talking about past meals in front of your present one. I enjoy my meal and can't help but recall a lot of other great things I've eaten.

"Is there anything you haven't liked?" Brandon asks.
"Well…" I have to think for a moment, then again just launch into other distracted monologue of dishes I've loved. "I guess I don't like that I don't really cook for myself anymore." I finally say, admitting that having Sue as a chef I will eat anything without hesitation (even crunch on shrimp with tail and shell on) and I've even enjoyed, and look forward to her pulled pork, alert the veggie police.

Then a break of no guests leaves me alone in the kitchen to fend for myself. I just end up making mostly salads and pasta and Spanish tortilla, with much appreciated emails from Sue about where all the good stuff is, chocolate pudding, babaganush, chips fried in coconut oil. I didn't finish the babaganush because I ate all the chips first, but I did polish off a whole container of the best chocolate pudding I've ever had (excuse me while I go raid the fridge).

I'm often compared to an 18 year old boy for how much I pack away. I just can't refuse great, lovingly prepared, fresh food, I need to eat it. My biggest weakness is cookies, and I try to hold back, but usually any visit to the kitchen has me sniffing on top of the fridge for any extra home made ones, ginger, peanut butter, lemon shortbread, I make it my mission to make sure no cookie goes to waste.

Now, being spoiled at the bar, I can have any cocktail I wish, whenever. I can grab a ginger ale and just walk away. I've gotten so used to just grabbing a drink and walking away, and that's exactly what I did by accident when I went to Bocas.
"I'll have a coke, thanks." I didn't pay, but just took my drink and walked away. Thankfully I hadn't gotten far before I remembered I wasn't at 'home' and promptly walked back to hand over some cash.

Brandon came over Saturday, and as he was eating dinner I realized, "Wow, that's the same thing you had last time, isn't it? That's really unlucky." I stated.
"Really? She doesn't just have a set menu that she repeats?" he asks, as he reaches onto my plate for more, unphased that he's having the same dish twice.
"Ha, no, a few things I've had twice for sure, but it's all based on what she actually has, she can't actually pre-make a weeks menu, she can't predict when someone will catch a Red Snapper or ..."
"I just realized... that's what you had last time, isn't it?" Sue comes over to us and asks.
Brandon makes to nod, "Yeah, but it's great" he says between bites.
"Hmm..." and then a moment later he has a small plate of tiny portions of leftovers, the onions I talked about, a bit of pulled pork, cabbage salad, some kind of garlic patty thing.

Well, lunch has just been served, and I've been tortured by the smell of it for a while, so I'll be heading back to the kitchen...

Photo Montage of my first month in Panama

Ten days to christmas...really?

I have grown up with the North American Christmas craze. Every store beacons you to gaze upon it's glorious gifts. Going into a store can be dangerous because it ends up being 'one gift for you, one gift for me'. Decorations for every religion are piled onto everything as the Hallowe'en decorations are being taken down. Holiday tunes blare from everywhere putting you in the spirit or making you miserable depending on the day.

This year though I'm in a small city in Spain where the decorations aren't glittering with the same gusto. There are very pretty lights in most of the main streets. There is a giant tree outside city hall made of poinsettias and a big white and blue tree in another square. The stores have hardly any signs or lights or decorations but outside most store doors are pots of poinsettias.
Here children write letters to Papa Noel who begins the holidays AND the Three Wise Men who mean it's back to school time. I know Santa has Elves to help him with all his mail but I haven't found out who is secretary to the Wise.
The public television here has no advertisements, so no holiday cheer there. Then the channels that do have ads are predominately for perfume (which make me blush), ham legs (which make me cringe) and lottery (which leaves me confused). Where is their sense of over dramatized commercialism to show your love?
The lottery is what people turn to when they're old enough to know that Santa isn't going to be giving them a gift. People here say "Happy Christmas, Prosperous New Year" in the regular tone then very animatedly say "but good luck on the lottery!" and have a five minute conversation about their numbers and where they'll be. Tickets cost 20-23Euros depending where you buy them and people wait in line for up to four hours (in Madrid, Port de Sol) for their tickets, so says the Spanish news.


In other news, I'm at the only internet cafe in Almuñecar where I asked for a coffee with chocolate and they brought me this...
It's not a Spanish morning if there aren't a few heaps of sugar.
... needless to say it was a delicious-warm-coffee-chocolate-delight