I made a list of a bunch of stuff to tell you—odds and ends, nothing big enough to warrant its own post—but then I lost it and had to remake it and now the list is shorter and I can’t remember what I’m forgetting. Naturally.

1. Maseca Cornbread, Updated

I made it again, but this time I omitted all white flour and used roughly 1½ cups maseca and ½ cup cornmeal. The resulting bread turned out less cake-like and more cornbready—flatter and heavier—and delicious. I actually think I might prefer it this way.

And then the other night I made it yet again, this time with about half maseca and a quarter each cornmeal and whole wheat flour. So good.

Ps. Guess who linked to my cornbread post. I know! I nearly peed my pants.

2. Chocolate Icing

I want to make this (because you can never have too many chocolate icing recipes) and I fully intend to…when I get home.

3. Vanilla Beans

I can’t get real vanilla out here. I already told you that. But lately, I haven’t even been able to get artificial vanilla flavoring in our grocery store. I finally decided to ask a market lady, one of the women presiding over a bonafide stall.

“You mean the bean or the liquid?” she said.

“The liquid,” I said, and then I paused, speechless. “Do you have vanilla beans?”

“I don’t, but the lady over there does.”

I bought a bottle of the fake stuff for fifty cents and hustled across the aisle.

“Do you have vanilla beans?” I asked, hardly daring to hope.

“Sure,” the woman said. She dug around on the shelf behind her and pulled out a tied-shut, green plastic bag.

“A Chinese man bought all the big ones this morning,” she apologized. “I only have small beans, but I’ll be getting more tomorrow.”

I bought three, about 24 US cents per bean. I felt like dancing.

And now I’m wondering: is it legal to import vanilla beans? I read online that I might have to declare them. What does that mean exactly? Anyone have any experience bringing a suitcase full of vanilla beans into the US? I’d rather not invest my life savings and then have them thrown in the garbage.

4. Language Learning

In my last newsletter, I wrote a little bit about language learning and how it’s going. Here’s what I said..

Spanish hasn’t come as easily to the children as I had hoped. Enough of their classmates speak some English that they aren’t forced to articulate themselves. They are understanding more, and the younger ones are starting to string together simple sentences. Maybe we have unreasonable expectations? Maybe this is how learning another language, via semi-immersion, progresses?  (Something funny: the younger two children equate speaking Spanish with speaking English with a Spanish accent. This drives us absolutely batty. We’re forever yelling, “Speak Spanish! Or speak proper English so the other kids can learn!”)

Language has been a struggle for my husband and me, too. We forgot a lot of our Spanish over the last thirteen years, and jumping right in without any Spanish lessons, while doable, is kind of starting to trip us up now. We’re ready to move beyond the superficial chatter and plunge into deeper conversations, but our lack of vocab and correct verb usage keeps getting in the way. We’re looking into getting some brush-up Spanish tutoring for us (and concentrated one-on-one time for the children), but we’re still not sure if this will be a possibility or not. In the meantime, we bumble along…

In response to my letter, a friend from church sent me this article: Myths and Misconceptions about Second Language Learning.

In the article, the author debunks the myths that children are natural language learners, that it’s easier for them than for adults, that complete immersion is as wonderful as we think it is. He concludes that, “Second language learning by school-aged children takes longer, is harder, and involves more effort than many teachers realize.”

You guys, you have no idea how happy this article made me. My kids are normal! Struggling is normal! Learning another language is hard work, for everyone and maybe even more so for children!

As soon as I finished reading the article, I picked up the phone and made arrangements for a language teacher to come to the house for an interview. (She’s teaching the children as I type this.) And MCC has generously agreed to let us—all six of us—have one full week of language study at a school in Cobán, go us! 

5. Why all the trash?

When I wrote about the trash situation, some of you asked, Why? Why is there such a littering problem? Why don’t they throw stuff away instead of down?

I have the same questions. I always assumed it had something to do with poverty and a lack of education. But for some reason, that pat answer didn’t sit well with me. So I googled it and found this article.

To sum up: after ruling out the poverty and lack of education reasons, the author said that he believes people litter because of a lack of belonging. Except for in their houses, which they claim as their own and keep spotless, they don’t feel like they belong. The two foreign countries I know the best, Nicaragua and Guatemala, have both been ravaged by wars funded/egged-on by outside, domineering governments (hello, United States) and the people have been repeatedly stripped of their dignity. Also, both countries are full of trash. 

This theory fascinates me. I don’t know if it’s true, but it might actually make sense. What do you think?

On a similar note (contamination in the form of chemical pollution), Guatemalan farmers make some crazy-heavy use of pesticides. Fruits and veggies in the states get some pretty heavy pesticides coat-age, but
in Guatemala there isn’t the same level of supervision and regulation. It’s so bad that, if I think about it for more than two seconds, I get twitchy feelings about feeding produce to my children. This may be ridiculous, but not too ridiculous, I don’t think. Get this: at Bezaleel, the gardener (not the volunteer from the states) sprayed the green beans every single day up until the day they were picked. So if I come back with a third eye, you’ll know why.

6. Cabbage Is Good For You

I said that cabbage is pallid and devoid of nutrients. My friend commented to tell me I was wrong. I cheered, and made round two of spicy cabbage, this time with a whole head (head?) (and it was a small, half dead one) of celery stalks and leaves, plus a bunch of squash leaves (puntos de guisquil).

7. Fake phone calls

The Bloggess wins, hands down, when it comes to writing made-up (though she says they’re real) phone conversations. The best line? Fire-proof orphans.

8. Friday Link-Ups

Savvy bloggers do this thing on Fridays where they link to the interesting, profound, useful, and silly. I am not savvy so I don’t do them. But still, I enjoy them and I thought you might, too. Of a Friday, if you’re in the mood for some good, old-fashioned internet trolling, hit up these link-up queens: Mama Congo, Motley Mama, The Wednesday Chef, Cup of Jo.

On Sunday we watched a half marathon. It was like watching ten thousand people trying not to die…in unison.

Guatemalans like to run. We don’t remember anyone running in Nicaragua, so this came as a surprise. The attitude is so different from what I see in the states (and from mine). There’s no “oh I should run but don’t want to” attitude and hardly any “I’m going to run two miles every day no matter what” and not a bit of “I run to lose weight.” People simply like to run and so they do.

So the Cobán half marathon is a really big deal. The runners starts in Cobán, run to Carchá and then turn around and head back.

Because we go to church in Carchá, we decided to watch the race at its halfway point. We got there late (it’s hard to get a taxi on Sunday morning, plus it was pouring rain up until we left, plus our family has a fierce and proud tradition of falling apart every Sunday morning), so we missed seeing the Kenyans come through. (An Ethiopian won.)

However, it takes a long time for ten thousand people to run by. We stationed ourselves across from a mariachi band and watched. There was a lot to see.

 

There was runner in a bull uniform and another in a leopard suit. There were runners with dogs. There were children. There were people in wheelchairs. There were mamas who took time to kiss their cheering children. There were runners who stopped to take photos of the musicians. We even saw the very last runner—a frail old man, shuffling along,  grinning broadly, and completely ignoring the cluster of police escorts protecting him from being run over by the backed-up line of irritated drivers.

The end.

I don’t think of cabbage as a vegetable, at least not a very good one, for three reasons:

1. Its white color implies a pallid, leached-out nutritive state, and in its most commonly eaten form—coleslaw—it’s usually drowned in mayonnaise which cancels out any vitamins it might possibly have.

2. Kids balk at the tough crunch and occasional bite.

3. It’s a heavy lug of a thing which I interpret to means it’s probably mostly just water anyway.

So I avoid the lunky cabbage with its myriad problems. It’s just not worth the struggle.

Except I kind of love the vegetable—its bite! its crunch! its versatility!—so I don’t completely avoid it. This ends up being a bittersweet affair, kind of like poking a sore tooth (if poking a sore tooth is bittersweet). What I mean is, what happens is this: I tentatively cook up some cabbage to test if my family may have matured in their tastebuds and the cabbage is fabulous and I fall in love with it all over again while my loved ones (though their rotten attitudes cause me to question whether or not I should use that adjective) renew their avowed hatred of the lowly cabbage. And then I mourn, dump buckets of ashes on my head, and beat my chest with my fists. Oh those cabbage-hating beasts!

Though this time was a little different. I made spicy cabbage and my family revolted and I fell passionately in love (with the cabbage, not my family), but after feeling sad and bitter for a two full days, I went back to the market and bought another cabbage because I wanted to so there.

Luisa’s recipe calls for sambal oelek but I knew I’d have as much hope finding that in Chamelco as I would a piece of the moon. I would improvise, I decided! But then in the midst of the mad supper dash, I tweeted Luisa just to see what she might recommend as a substitute.

Considering she lives in Germany and it was the middle of the night there, I wasn’t surprised that a response wasn’t forthcoming. So I proceeded along, willy-nilly, following my own instincts. I added chili cobán for heat, paprika for color, curry for punch, and soy sauce just for anyhow. I topped the whole mess with fresh cilantro and served it over rice with a fried egg on top. It was make-your-heart-go-pitter-patter good.

The next day Luisa tweeted back: garlic and chilis! Which would be fab, I’m sure, but my little creation had already made me so happy that I no longer had any desire to tamper with the ingredients whatsoever.

In this dish, the crunchy veggies are transformed into something so tender soft (and slicked with oil without any trace of greasiness) that they are nearly succulent. In some ways the dish reminds me of pasta with its long and thin, soft and smooth strips of cabbage. Comfort food at its best.

Can I get an amen? (Because my family sure won’t give me one.)

Spicy Cabbage
Adapted from Luisa of The Wednesday Chef (her book was one of the select few chosen to travel with us to Guatemala). In turn, Luisa got the recipe brainchild from Molly.

I used chili cobán for my chili powder. It’s hot and smokey (and quite different from the chili-soup chili powder I use at home) and I’ll be bringing some back to the states with me. You can use any chili that you like: fresh and green, dried and fiery, saucy, powdered, etc. Whatever you have in your cupboards.

Luisa’s recipe called for bacon and shrimp of which I had neither. I did, however, have some bacon grease in my fridge—a great addition. But you can omit all meat and just stick with olive oil, if you prefer. (I think some spicy sausages would work well here, too.)

2-4 tablespoons olive oil, canola oil, or bacon grease
1 medium head cabbage, thinly sliced
1 onion, thinly sliced
2 carrots, cut in half lengthwise and thinly sliced.
2 teaspoons curry powder
1 teaspoon (less, maybe) chili coban powder
1 teaspoon paprika (smoked would be nice)
2 teaspoons soy sauce
3-4 roma tomatoes, cut in half lengthwise and thinly sliced
salt and pepper to taste
fresh cilantro, chopped

In a large pot, heat the fat over medium-high heat. Add the cabbage, onions, and carrots. Simmer/saute until the vegetables have lost their rigid reserve. Reduce the heat, clap on the lid, and cook for another 10 minutes until the vegetables are tender through and through. Add the curry, chili, paprika, soy sauce, and tomatoes. Cook for a bit longer to meld flavors and soften the tomatoes. Add salt and pepper as needed.

Serve the spicy cabbage over rice with lots of fresh cilantro.