Food

We're easing into the dry season, and today was a beautiful, sunlit, tranquil day. I dragged a lounge chair out onto the back lawn and donned a tank top, the first I remember wearing in a long time--so long that it smelled vaguely mildewed. With a new novel (Spooner, by Pete Dexter, is highly recommended) and a coke on ice, I settled in. But not before I had made a breakfast of free-range chicken eggs, sausage, English muffins, and orange marmalade.

I paid dearly for the sausages and muffins, the imported kind, but the eggs and marmalade came from right here in Panama. Putting together one's comestibles (foodstuff) is a constant challenge. I've written about how tough the beef is because cattle eat grass rather than grain and roam freely rather than being stuffed into food lots. No hormones, no antibiotics. It's healthier, for sure, but tough, and not all that tasty for the most part. We've found that buying the filete entero (whole fillet) is the way to go, but costly. Once pushed to the back of the fridge to age for a few days and then cut into portions for freezing, it's very good. Other cuts, however, demand the pressure cooker or the crockpot, and even hamburger needs a bit of bacon grease or lard to make it truly palatable. Pork is okay, so long as one knows which cuts to buy and so long as one can find them, and chicken is plentiful and good. The seafood is spotty, as we don't live on the coast. I've found that fish, for the most part, just isn't as tasty as the fish back in Florida, but the shrimp are outstanding if a bit pricey.

So the search for good, reliable protein is an ongoing. We now have a fish monger, Miguel, who travels to Boquete a couple of times a week and comes to our house with a big ice chest filled with crab, shrimp, fish, lobster, and oysters. This is Pacific seafood, and it's different from what we're used to. The oysters, which measure about four to six inches across, are inedible in our book. The fish, as noted, at times seems tasteless, as does the crab and lobster. Miguel delivers wahoo, dorado, pardo (red snapper), and mahi mahi, but it all tastes pretty much the same: like nothing. It must have to do with the freshness factor, although Miguel swears that he got it at the dock in Pedregal that very morning. So we've pretty much gotten it down to shrimp, tuna, and a sea bass called corvina, which is nearly always good. I'm going to make it my mission in the incoming weeks to locate a reliable source for good beef and pork, starting this morning when I visit Jane and Barry to obtain some of their excellent coffee. They're gourmet cooks and should know. Additionally, Emanuel Revilla-Gonzalez should be there, as he is most Sunday mornings, and should be good for some food sources. In case you've forgotten, he's the President of Banco General in Panama who has a second home just up from Jane and Barry to which he travels by private helicopter from Panama City most weekends. I intend to grill the three of them.

Chiriqui, our province, is known as the bread basket of Panama because of its agriculture. Vegetables and vegetable markets are plentiful, but the downside is that pesticides, herbicides, and fungicides also are plentiful. The beauty of Cerro Punto, an agricultural community on the other side of the volcano, is spoiled by the nauseating smell of pesticides. The incidences of cancer in that region are reputed to be extraordinarily high, and, although we don't detect similar odors around Boquete, anything bought locally is assumed to be heavily treated and therefore best soaked in a water and vinegar solution before eating.

Gringo ingenuity has come into play once again, however. There are now a number of organic farms and small time operators who have emerged to offer hydroponic and organically grown fruits and vegetables. There's a Tuesday morning market at which these fruits and vegetables are hawked, which has grown into the sale of artisan breads, specially prepared meats, herbal products, free-range eggs, Thai cuisine, pastries, organically grown coffee, etc. And a lovely young woman, Candice, originally from California, makes home deliveries of her fruits, vegetables, sauces, marmalades, etc., all organically grown and home-prepared in the Palmira area. We were particularly excited when she began offering greens--mustard, kale, turnips, etc.--and lard. Yes, lard. Look it up: one of the best fats around. She has a blog, too, advising how to cook produce new to us expats. And, at long last, a couple of good bakeries have popped up. There's a French bakery south of town which has excellent baguettes, but it's a 15 or 20 minute drive away. Closer to downtown, a baker from Atlanta has relocated to provide several varieties of bread, cakes, muffins, brownies, pies, etc. But he's expensive: my birthday chocolate cake--the best I've ever eaten, by the way--now costs $26!!! And two Christmas pies, apple and pecan, set me back $25. Ready-made pie crusts are not available here, so I set about learning how to make my own. But my food processor died, and I've been unable to find another of decent quality. (I did manage a blueberry pie for Charly's birthday, but it took me forever to make the crust by hand, and, although it tasted good, it looked like hell.)

Eating out presents its own set of challenges. Restaurants open; restaurants close. Entrepreneurial types figure that, with all the "rich" gringos in Boquete, a fancy restaurant is a sure thing. What they don't figure is that gringos, many of whom live far out of town, don't eat out every day of the week or even several days a week. The tourist trade is good for business, but only if the restaurant is located right in the heart of town, as many tourists don't have cars. So good restaurants come and go. There're plenty of small restaurants that serve cheap, tipico (local Panamanian) food heavy on rice and beans plus poultry or some form of mystery meat, but it's satisfying just once in a while. Moreover, virtually all restaurants are just as apt to be closed as they are open. There are several mainstays--the restaurant at the Panamonte Hotel, the Cafe de la Crepe, El Pianista (an Italian place in our vicinity), the Bistro Boquete in the heart of downtown, and Oasis Restaurante at the hotel of the same name--but they carry gringo prices and therefore are good only for special nights out. No fast food; no hamburger joints; no place to just pick up something quick because service is invariably slow and quality uneven. A meal out requires a real commitment.

So a big chunk of my retired life is given over to issues of food. I cook lunch at least five days a week for me, Larry, and Edwin (and Dalys on Fridays), and no sooner is lunch over than Larry is asking about the dinner menu. Throw in occasional entertaining and a batch of cookies or brownies now and then and I'm in the kitchen an unreasonably large percentage of my time. There is no bigger treat than eating something I didn't have to make myself, but, outside of invitations from friends, it's often not worth the hassle. Oh, for a KFC, a Popeye's, a Boston Market, a McDonald's, a Whataburger. (But then I probably wouldn't be a size 6.)

The Holidays and Beyond

We made it through the wet season unscathed and just were beginning to enjoy full days of sunshine when the cold front plaguing all of you up north created storms in the Caribbean which currently are moving across Panama. We've had high winds and incessant, blowing rain for two days now and are looking at two more days at least. The rain has not been heavy, just unceasing. We're hoping for no repeat of last year's flood. There were landslides in parts of Boquete in early December caused by heavy rains, but we were not personally affected. They hit particularly hard in Valle Escondido (Hidden Valley--the name should give you an idea of what the problem was), a downtown gated community. One reputedly million-dollar house was completely destroyed, and many homes were inundated with mud and water, including that of a dear friend, Pat Mains. She recovered sufficiently to host a Christmas luncheon for fifty people of December 24th. Quite a trooper, particularly since she lives alone and is of retirement age.

In fact, there were quite a few parties to attend this year, and all of them were very fancy by our standards. I remarked to several of you via e-mail that I felt like a British colonialist, what with all the china, crystal, silver, and Panamanian servants scurrying about. The festivities were more low key at our house on Christmas day, but enjoyable nonetheless. Ramon's delightful daughter, Laura, was visiting from San Francisco, and we also were joined by Scott and Vicky, part-time Boquetenos who hail from Houston, and Justin, the new golf manager at Cielo Paraiso, recently arrived from managing a golf course in Mexico. One of the highlights of the holidays was an all-day runabout with Steve. We took off down barely navigable roads, splashed through creeks and waterfalls, gathered plants along the way, got lost, and ended up at the foot of the walking path to the volcano. It was good to able to spend time with him again, as we had lots of news and gossip to catch up on. The picture above is of Steve. (I know you've been wondering what he looks like. Sort of a better looking Steve Erwin, with whom, incidentally, he was mates back in Australia. He has a great story about their transporting some crocodiles together.)

Steve and Michelle returned a few days later to help me host the Garden Club holiday party on December 31st. I use the word "host" loosely as all I did was provide the house. The Club president and her husband set the date and the time, they planned and supervised a number of plant-related games (which were fun even for me, a decidedly no-games person), and members brought all the food. I did provide the paper goods and a fortified punch, but otherwise just sat back and enjoyed everything. Steve even conducted the garden tours. So, all in all, a great holiday season.

Larry is nearing the end of the all the procedures leading up to his getting some new teeth in his head. Following six or seven root canals (I've lost count) and gum surgery which took forever to heal, he spent two four-hour sessions last week having some teeth ground down to accommodate the new ones, which are to be ready in early February. In the meantime, he has temporaries. He had been a champ up to last week, but in addition to having a sore mouth when he came finally came home, he also had a terrific backache from the dentist's chair. And the lousy weather isn't helping his mood any. I'm just trying to stay out of the way.

Juanita Bonita, AKA Kitty Kitty, is now fully integrated into the household: she's joined the two of us and the dogs in bed at night. I used to have approximately one foot of space in a king sized bed--albeit a different one foot at the top at the bottom, obliging me to sleep in all sorts of contorted positions. Now I have virtually none. And no one will give an inch. Chyna somehow morphs into weighing about 200 pounds, Trudy growls if I as much as touch her, and Kitty Kitty gets all huffy if I make her change positions. It takes a good fifteen or twenty minutes to claim sufficient space to get in bed. And, God forbid, if I should have to get up and use the bathroom at night. Animals who wouldn't be moved for love or money earlier in the evening shift around so as to make in impossible for me to reclaim any room whatsoever upon my return to bed. I anticipate urinary tract problems resulting from all of this.

Despite the wind and rain, I'm going to have to gird my loins and make a trek downtown for supplies today. Allegedly, the roads are a mess. And the annual Flower and Coffee Fair is in progress, thus exacerbating the situation. So I better fortify myself with some more excellent Boquete coffee and get cracking.