Archive for food

Groceries I never buy

Today I bought groceries, as I usually do on Saturday mornings. Since we don’t have a car anymore, I walk to the store about 15-20 minutes away, do my shopping, and take a taxi back to the apartment with groceries for a week. This time Mark reminded me to buy snacks. Something about it getting colder outside makes us snack more. But anyway…

I was thinking today, as I passed the masses of people waiting in lines within the grocery store, of all the things that Chileans buy that I never buy. Like sliced cheese from a deli window. I just buy a package of sliced cheese, but Chileans buy slices from the deli almost every day for that evening’s meal. Take a number!

Also, ham. I never buy lunch meat EVER. Don’t get me started on all the chemicals that they put into your “meat” so that they can make it that shape. But Chileans stand in another line at another deli window almost every day so they will have ham (the generic word here for lunch meat of any origin) for their evening meal. Or breakfast the next day. Just let me say, “yuck.”

Then there’s the fresh bread weighing line. I do occasionally buy one kind of fresh bread rolls that don’t have shortening. But usually I buy it fresh on the day I want to eat it from the bakery on the corner by my apartment, not at the grocery store on a weekly trip. So I can skip that line too.

The only line I have to wait in (before I head to the check out, of course) is the veggie and fruit weighing line. Four guys (I’m not being sexist, they are all men!) sit there at their special table near the produce weighing fruit and veggies on their scales that print out stickers with the price. I guess that saves the checkout clerks time, but it seems to me like one more ineffeciency of Chile. And more time spent in line.

Finally I get to the checkout, and pay for the food I DO usually buy. Then I head outside and wait again for the taxi. Mark wonders why it takes so long to go to the grocery store, but I’m not worried about it. July first will be our first day back living in the States, and I can be more efficient again.

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Where’s my camera when I need it?

Maybe I need a camera phone after all. I needed it on Sunday, and since I didn’t have one, I will try to paint a word picture for you.

We drove up to the butcher’s store in Doug and Carey’s Hyundai van. It’s a big store on a corner of a major street. Don’t think of these outdoor markets with slabs of meat hanging around in the open air. This is a meat store with coolers and freezers and men who use plastic gloves to cut normal slabs of meat and weigh it on digital scales.

Mark and Carey went in to buy steak to grill while Doug and I sat in the van out front with the kids. Doug and Carey have four kids, ages 14 to 7, and our three were there, too. Megan, the baby, was asleep on my lap. (Okay, so it is still Chile. We didn’t have any carseats that day.)

Johnny, age 11-ish, and Doug start talking about the guy who has a little stand out front of the butcher’s shop. I hadn’t really noticed him before that. He has a square table and a big umbrella for shade. He also has a display board of maybe 12 folk music cds that he’s selling, and a karaoke machine. He’s playing loud music and occasionally breaking in with an advertisement for the butcher’s shop. “Today only, get your steak at only $2.50 a pound.” Or something like that using pesos and kilos instead. It goes really well with his folk music, let me tell you.

Doug tells Johnny, “I’ll give you three dollars if you go over there and ask the guy to sing ‘O Canada’ on his karaoke machine.” Johnny’s thinking about it. I say, “I’ll give you three dollars if you get him to turn the thing off.” I didn’t think he would, but I should have known. It was Johnny. He’s fearless.

After a couple of minutes of thinking it over, he jumps out of the passenger side door and walks over to the 60-something-year-old man. We can’t hear what he says, but the music keeps playing and Johnny comes back grinning.

“What did he say?” “He said I would have to pay him to turn it off.” “Did you offer him part of your three dollar reward?” “No, why should I share my reward with him?” “Well, what reason did you give him to turn it off?” “None.” Silly Johnny.

Mark and Carey came back and we drove away. But it didn’t occur to me until later that it’s not normal to have a karaoke guy advertising the butcher under an umbrella on the street. Funny.

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Cooking from scratch…as in NOTHING

This morning Mark and all the other staff left for Chanco, a small rural town along the beach of southern Chile where Campus Crusade is holding the annual Student Conference. It is to last six days, and is to be held at an internado – a public boarding school of sorts – that is open to us because it is summer here in Chile.

Mark is in charge of the food for the conference. That’s for 45 people, including the staff and students, every meal for six days. That also means that he was in charge of planning what they would eat, deciding how much they needed to buy, buying it, cooking it, cleaning up after it, and reimbursing all the costs later. A big job!

This evening he called me after arriving in Chanco to let me know that there is nothing at all in the kitchen there. No plates, no cups, no silverware, no pots, no pans, no serving spoons. NO REFRIGERATOR, NO STOVE! They do have a sink.

He was prepared for most of this, because rumors had begun to arrive about the primitive nature of the place before he left. But he had pretty much counted on there being a hotplate at least.

I hope the students like sandwiches.

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Christmas in the Summertime

I read online that there has been a big ice storm in the Midwest, and my mom says that she has 10 inches of snow on her driveway, and more on the way. It’s hard to imagine from here. Today was somewhere around 80 degrees, a few high clouds, and a slight breeze. A lovely beginning to summer, in my opinion!

But it’s also hard to realize that Christmas is right around the corner. I mean, it’s only a few days away, and we are going to the swimming pool everyday. Definitely one of the harder adjustments for me.

Imagine Christmas without “Let It Snow, Let It Snow, Let It Snow!” Imagine the Christmas decoration aisle at the store right next to the lawn chairs and pool accessories. Imagine kids getting out of school for summer break a few days before Christmas. That’s what we are experiencing here.

But not everything about Christmas is different here. Some things, especially the imported North American consumerism parts of Christmas, are still (laughably) the same. Santa still wears a thick coat, even at the mall where the A/C is on because it’s so hot. The coolest Christmas tree for sale at the store drops artificial snow from the top into an inverted umbrella at the bottom, creating the sensation that the tree is growing in some outdoor place in the northern hemisphere. “Christmas” songs still play in English in the stores, “Jingle Bells”, “Good King Wenseslas”, “Frosty the Snowman”, etc. Did you ever notice how many of them are really not about the holiday, but just about the weather?

The only place that seems to have made some attempt to reconcile this dichotomy is Starbucks. Starbucks in Chile has the red and white signs with candy canes (nowhere to be seen here, by the way) and wrapped packages, but no snow or mittens. The people in the ads wear shorts and ride their bikes through a park of evergreens. The ads don’t hawk caramel apple cider or peppermint hot cocoa, but rather dulce de leche Frappuccinos and other cold drinks. It’s Christmas, but it’s Christmas in Chile, and it makes me want to buy more Starbucks just because they actually put thought into their ads.

Here’s to a great holiday, wherever you are. Cheers!

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Bus Adventures

As we travel around Santiago by bus these days, we are often surprised at the things that we experience. Here are a few from just this week:

  • The man riding beside us with his young daughter sleeping on his lap bought Rachel a 4-ounce Coke from the vendor who got on the bus with his soft-sided cooler full of about 30 little bottles to sell to the passengers for about 50 cents each. I think the man felt guilty for drinking his little Coke in front of Rachel, so he bought her one, too.
  • Many singers, usually with guitars, get on the bus to sing and ask for donations, but this week dreadlocks and drums were a unique bus ride show.
  • Vendors of all kinds get on and describe their product in loud voices. This week we had the opportunity to buy ink pens, sewing needles, file folders, coloring books to teach us English words (!), and socks.
  • Beggars also get on the bus. They have a pattern to their stories. First they get your attention and say that they hate to have to do this, but there is no other way for them to feed their family. Then they tell you their story, without looking anyone in the eye. Then they say God bless you all and have a safe trip, and walk through the bus with their hand out for coins.
  • The favorite of all bus riders at this hot time of the year is the ice cream man. He has either a foam cooler or a masking-tape-reinforced cardboard box full of popsicles: blackberry, pineapple, orange dreamsicle, plain orange, chocolate cream. Only 20 cents each!

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Happy Birthday to Rachel

As I have said many times before, my parenting is one the most gringo things about me, and I am okay with that.

Rachel turned five this past week, and it was a busy week of birthday preparations. We had no less than 25 people (friends, their parents, and their brothers and sisters, plus us) at the park for chocolate cake and strawberries. Strawberries for your birthday is one of the benefits of your November birthday being in the spring in Chile. We hung a piñata and the kids all smashed it with a stick, but finally we had to put it down ourselves. All sorts of fun.

Here’s a picture of Rachel blowing out her candles:Rachel birthday candles

On Sunday, Rachel went to the birthday party of another girl who had been at Rachel’s party. She was turning seven.

It was a High School Musical Party. (“That’s SO cool, Mommy.”)

They opened the presents as soon as they arrived. Each child just gave the gift to the birthday girl when they arrived, and she opened them up on the spot. Very Chilean.

They played party games in Spanish even though all the kids were from English speaking families. There’s the culture gap between us and our kids, and they are only five or a little older!

They hung the piñata and just pulled the string so it would shower the kids with candy. No sticks. Also very Chilean.

They ate hot dogs (well, not Rachel, but everyone else). The birthday girl didn’t get a hotdog because they had more guests than they expected. She didn’t seem to mind too much.

They sang Happy Birthday and Felíz Cumpleaños. She blew out her candle (shaped like a 7) and then did the most Chilean thing yet: She begged her parents to let her plant her face in the birthday cake.

They said no. Not very Chilean.

On the way to the car, I said to Rachel, “Did you see that? She wanted to put her face in the cake!”

Rachel said, “Yeah, Mommy. Abby did it at her party.” Like that was the most normal thing in the world.

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The Empanada

September in Chile is the beginning of spring and, as if to celebrate our exit from the cold and wet of winter, we celebrate two days back-to-back of national holidays. September brings the height of Chilean national pride, with national flags being sold everywhere and everyone looking forward to their days of vacation. It’s almost like if in the US our Fourth of July and Labor Day were rolled into one big holiday in April.

As you can imagine, the whole month is devoted to preparing for these holidays, celebrating these holidays, and recovering from these holidays. Part of the preparation includes the annual “10 Best Empanadas of Santiago” competition.

An empanada is something like a Hot Pocket, but homemade. It’s traditionally filled with pino (a mixture of beef, onions, and spices), a few raisins, a slice of hard-boiled egg, and an un-pitted black olive. It’s one of the very few foods that Chileans eat with their hands. (Fried chicken and pizza always require a fork and knife.)

When you pick up the empanada, it feels warm and firm. You hold it at one end of the semi-circle, and bite into the pointy part at the top. The first bite is usually mostly bread, because that’s where the crust comes together. But the second bite is usually the juiciest. The meat-onion juice may come squirting out the top if you are not careful, and the steam will make your glasses fog. As you eat it down, you will definitely need several napkins, and if you are in the company of friends or family, you may decide to lick up some of the juice that runs down your hands. 

This is the appetizer for the coming meal of grilled steak and boiled potatoes. Maybe a few tomatoes, but you ar definitely going to feel your meal later. No wonder they eat it at lunch. It takes all day and night to digest!

Yesterday on the way to pick up Rachel from school, I walked by the place I would put at the top of my personal Top Ten Places to Get Empanadas. Against my better judgment, I decided to buy one. The first bite was all bread, but in the second bite I struck paydirt: the grease-coated olive jumped out of my empanada and ran right down my chin and my jacket before bouncing off the toe of my shoe and onto the ground. Chalk that up to a Chile Moment!

I hope that wherever you are, you have a Happy Dieciocho!

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Meat is meat, right?

Meat is meat, right? In Chile we get our meat at the supermarket, just like you do in the States. But what you get here varies between slightly different and WAY different than what you buy there.

Let’s take chicken for example. You can buy boxed containers of boneless skinless chicken breast just like you get in the States…or you can buy chicken feet. Yeah, the yellow knobby feet of a chicken. You didn’t even know they were classified as a meat, did you? Well, if you can’t afford to actually put chicken in your chicken soup, you can at least boil some feet in the water and make yourself think it tastes like chicken. And you can buy a package of these feet in the supermarket, right next to the livers and gizzards and other assorted chicken pieces.

And there’s the beef. Except this poor beef got butchered according to a completely different map than ours does in the States. I want sirloin or brisket or even rump roast. I find pieces of beef that I can’t identify their previous location on the animal. I guess someone in the States decided how to cut up beef there, and someone else decided how to cut it here. I still haven’t figured out which piece will turn out like I want it to.

At least there’s always ground beef. I mean hamburger meat is the same everywhere, right? Wrong! Here if you want ground beef, you have to choose between 4% fat and 10% fat. Why so little? No, they don’t put their cows on a fat-reduction diet. They grind up steaks! At one supermarket we used to go to, they didn’t even have ground beef in the case. You just had to ask, and they would freshly grind your steaks into hamburger meat. Why not just eat steak?, I ask!

I can also buy fish, with or without their heads. And lots of other seafood things that I might mistake for cacti if they weren’t in the ice with the other seafood. Something they call a loco looks pretty scary to me. How would you begin to cook or eat something so spiny and prickly? Good thing Mark doesn’t like seafood except for fish. I don’t have to figure that part out much!

My favorite meat that I buy here that I haven’t seen before in the States is a turkey breast that comes in a oven-ready tub. All I have to do is take off the outer wrapping, dump in my seasonings (ask me for that recipe sometime!), and cover it with foil. It takes an hour in the oven, or 20 minutes on the grill, and turkey dinner is ready! Yummy!

Rachel’s favorite part of the meat section is the pork. Not because I ever buy pork, because I don’t. Mostly because it has the silliest looking cuts of meat in the whole store. She especially likes to laugh at the cuts that have a snout in the plastic wrapped foam tray. Now THAT is gross!

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I went grocery shopping today. There are many thin…

I went grocery shopping today. There are many things about this weekly task that are the same as in the States, but a few modifications just to keep me on my toes and remind me that I am in Chile still.

First, the security guard at the front door. He checks to make sure you aren’t bringing in anything that someone might think you stole from the store, or that you might use to steal from the store. My backpack/diaper bag has to have it’s zipper pulls taped together so I can’t open it and fill it with store goods. The guard does this a thousand times a day, so he hardly even looks at me as he tapes my bag.

Next, after I find my bread (in a bag on the shelf instead of the freshly-made kind Rachel can’t eat, that has to be weighed at a special station), I head back to the produce section. I’ve learned after two years FINALLY which things have to be weighed and which do not. This is the key to a happy eventual check-out, because the checkout clerks do not have scales at the registers. You MUST weigh your fruits and veggies in the produce section. And yes, the store employs someone, sometimes various someones, to sit there all day weighing your food. I weigh my grapes, my tomatoes, and my kiwis. I don’t weigh my spinach, my parsley, my oranges, my mushrooms, or my brussel sprouts.

When I hit the meat counter, I start looking at the prices. Today it so happens that the pre-packaged chicken pieces are cheaper than the exact same ones that are in the case. But the whole chickens are cheaper in the case. So I choose appropriately, get my case chicken weighed by the meat man, and move on.

I decide that I need milk. Milk here comes in one-liter specially-lined cardboard boxes called tetrapak. I have two children who drink a lot of milk. I buy two cases of 12 one-liter boxes each. I bring along a 25th loose box of milk so they can scan it at the register without opening my cardboard case. Twenty-four liters of milk will last a week-and-a-half at my house, but I don’t have to worry about it going bad or refrigerating it. It’s treated a special way with rapid high heat so that it is room-temperature stable. That is something I will miss in the States!

Today I did not bring any returnable 2- or 2-1/2- or 3-liter bottles for Coke. I decide not to buy any since the non-returnable bottles of the same size cost about half as much again as the returnable ones. If I had, I would have to take the bottles to the machine in the back of the store and feed them in the machine mouth to get my voucher for the bottles. One less thing to deal with today.

I also decided not to take a number at the deli counter to wait for someone to cut me lunch meat or slice cheese. Too many people, since Chileans eat lunch meat and cheese on their weird bread for both breakfast and afternoon tea. Besides, Rachel can’t eat any of it.

The last stop before the check-out is the toiletries. I can pick up for myself the hand soap and the shampoo I need, but I have to ask the clerk behind the counter (once I get her attention) to hand me the shaving cream and the deodorant I want to buy.

I make it to the check-out. Today I remembered to weigh the right things, so there isn’t any trouble. No, I don’t want to add on the giant chocolate bar the clerk offers me. Only plastic bags are available, so there’s no questions to answer. I pay the college-student bag boy (since the store doesn’t) and head for the car.

Another successful grocery stop!

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Soda in Chile is a strange thing. We have the wor…

Soda in Chile is a strange thing.

We have the world-saturating Coca-Cola, of course, Sprite, Fanta, Coke Light (almost Diet Coke), and now Coke Zero, which I tasted by accident last week and decided tastes like Half-Diet Coke.

Then we have Pepsi, which is sort of the lower-class Coke of Chile, and comes in cheaper, smaller sizes. 7Up, Crush, and Canada Dry Ginger Ale all follow along those lines.

And we have Chilean sodas: Pap (papaya-gag!), Kem Piña (pineapple), Bilz (strawberry), and Limón Soda (made by Canada Dry, and very good!).

Once in a long while we see a Mountain Dew that costs a ton at the upper-class supermarket.

But today we saw for the first time in Chile Mark’s favorite drink from the States: Dr Pepper! Granted, it cost almost a dollar a can, so I picked up four and went to find Mark in the store. Of course, our first reaction was: How many do we buy? Who else wants this? So we call around and get everyone’s orders. (What are friends for, right?) We leave with 28 cans! Yes, we spent $28.00 on Dr Pepper today. And we’re pretty happy about it, too!

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