only in Haiti would i start cooking a simple supper at 9:30 AM, simply because i know it’s going to be a disaster.
first obstacle: i try to dry the bread cubes in the oven for the bread pudding. i check them once, and stir them around a bit. check them twice and notice the moisture hasn’t really changed much. actually, the oven feels sort of cool.
we’re out of propane. it’s a weekend, and even if it wasn’t, the chances of getting gas the same-day: it’s like people in st. marc wanting orange juice hell asking for ice water.
so i run across to anne-ruth and amalia’s apartment, but no sign of them. so i run up to base and track down anne-ruth to see if she minds if i use her oven. no problem. so i go get the matches from my place, turn on her gas, strike the match and ...
wooosh! the flame reaches my mid-forearm, and takes my arm hairs with it. the sound of her grumbling oven doesn’t sound right, so we shut it down and joshua offers his oven next door.
finally, three ovens down, and i’ve got the bread pudding cooking an hour later.
can’t imagine what’s going to happen when i try to fry and bake the chicken parm, boil the spaghetti, bake the garlic bread, and cook the green beans....
***
ask and you shall receive.
i had wonderful help from amalia and anne-ruth prepping the meal, and it actually turned out pretty good, which is better than i expected, all things considered.
as we’re in the guys’ apartment cooking, the oil just wouldn’t get hot enough. after about 45 minutes of trying to let the oil heat as we breaded all the chicken breast, anne-ruth suggested we use her stove (which she claimed didn’t have the gas leak; only the oven). once we moved everything back over to her apartment (where i originally started with the prep), it took but just a moment to get the oil hot and amalia and i began churning out the chicken and running it back to the guys to put it in the oven (which apparently never got turned on!).
working on the sauce, i realized the tomato sauce i bought was not nearly enough for 13 hungry mouths, even once i added the diced tomatoes, onions, peppers and garlic. fortunately, i had an extra can of paste on reserve back home.
i got the pasta going as anne-ruth and i worked on the garlic toast, only to come back to find it had absorbed all the water and was overcooked. fortunately, anne came to the rescue and made an entire new batch of pasta. only in haiti could i screw up pasta!
going to check the chicken, the electric goes out. perfect timing, as usual.
and fortunately, the green beans were no trouble at all.
troubles aside, it was a great meal, with great friends here in haiti. everyone enjoyed it, but more importantly, it was so nice to just sit and eat a meal with people you can joke with, laugh with, and those that truly make you feel at home. here, we are each other's family. we are all in this together.
even though many offered, i insisted on doing dishes. there’s nothing like seeing the productive end of a good meal. washing the pots and plates, listening to mat kearney made me feel like i was standing in my kitchen in Nashville; a feeling that left me feeling more at home here than i have in a while, yet more reminiscent of my Nashville friends family.
anne ruth, amalia and i at our family dinner
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