Marias Kitchen

Saturday was hot and steamy and after a crowded cab ride home, we put away all the groceries we had in our canasta. Maria chopped and washed and peeled until she had a refrigerator full of produce for the coming week.

Maria´s kitchen is a wonder. The stove, where she prepares meals at least three times a day, is a very old and miniture. The electric burners are flat like hot plates. It sits below a long window , high up on the wall; too high up to see more than the sky. A white curtain, with a band of cherries on the hem ,blows in the breeze. I don´t think the window is ever closed.

A set of open wood shelving serves as a pantry. It has the usual tea and coffee, plates and bowls, and all the boxes of things every kitchen needs.

A tiny, vintage refrigerator, the same brown color as the appliances in my childhood home, is set up off the ground on some pretty big wheels. So far, Ive never seen the refrigerator moved anywhere, though.

The small microwave that sits on a bakers rack that is between the wood shelves and the refrigerator gets a good work out every day, heating up mugs of tea, or reheating leftovers, just like in any other kitchen. Only the re heats are fried plantains sometimes.

On the side of the frig, someone has hung a scale model drawing in pencil of a new kitchen layout, next to a picture of new cabinets and applicances; cherry wood, black trim and stainless steel.

Around the tile breakfast bar that divides the kitchen and the living room, I often come in from school and find Maria and a cousin, or sister, or friend having a cup of coffee and visiting, or cooking together.

Under a small, overhead light, every night she prepares another wonderful dinner . Somehow , she seems to know what her guests would prefer. I never mentioned that I don´t eat a lot of meat, but after a couple of days, most of our meals have been salads, fruits and vegetables, a little chicken and of course, lots of rice and beans.

Last year, when the teenagers were here, there more meat dishes were served.

This is great with me. Yesterday, I saw a regular, unrefrigerated box van in front of the butcher shop, the back doors open and two men inside. Hanging from the ceiling of the van were about six huge sides of beef, and the men were taking one down , for delivery to the shop. I walked past and glimpsed inside. Large coils of sausage were laying on the counter.

Eggs are sold in all the little tiendas, sitting out on the counter in open cardboard egg crates. I have never seen any in a refrigerator, and in my Costa Rican home, they sit in the kitchen in the open shelves.

Every night a small amount of food seems to go a long way. Sometimes I think there won´t be enough for everyone, but no one, especially me, ever goes away hungry. What the six of us eat in the evening is about the amount two people would be served at one of our local restaurants.

The best part of dinner is sitting around the table with the family and trying to talk with everyone, or listen to their conversation. Talking to me, they speak rather slowly, but the kids can´t hold the pace for long. They will start the conversation simply and slowly, but within a few words, they forget what an imbecile I am and run up to cruising speed pretty fast.

Eventually, they leave most of the chore of communicating with me to Maria. She seems to have an inate sense of how to express most subjects in a way I can understand.

Of course, my language skills can lead to some hilarious mis understandings. The other night, Jose, the 10 year old boy, kept saying something about someone at his school having a problem or doing something about what I thought was their heel.

But unfortuanetly, he wasnt´ talking about a talon , or heel, (pronounce it tah LOAN), but about a condon (Coan DOAN) . Ill leave it to your imagination what that word means. As it turns out, a boy at school had shown up with some, and in an amazingly casual way, Jose was reporting this to the family at dinner.

Enter stage left someone who is getting about every sixth word when the kids are talkingsoveryfast. Of course I say, "what is wrong with his heel?" Que es malo con su talon?

Maria looks bewildered and asks me ¨¿Que?" So I repeat the question.
By now everyone has stopped talking and is listening to this interesting development.

By the time she realizes what I mean, the stage is set for explosive laughter. On all our parts.

Oh well.

Youreadthissentenceasfastasyoucanandnocheatingbytryingtodecipherindividualwordsincluding
onesyoudontknowthemeaningoflikeexpediciousorsomething.

I even had trouble typing it without using the space bar. I wish everyone around here had a space bar in their speech when they are talking to me.

Time to run. It´s almost dinner time,and for the privilege of a home cooked meal set in front of me every night, I guess I don´t mind being the live entertainment. After all, everyone is so nice about it, and I promise, I know now and forever the different sounds of talon and condon.