The Case of the Spicy Chili

If you have been a regular reader of our adventures, you may have noticed that the number of blog entries we have compiled in the past month have been few compared to our usually consistent entries. Sorry. Truthfully not much happens in Matagalpa and we have seen most of its interesting sites. We are enjoying our stay and our regular daily schedule of course, but it only yields enough material for about one good blog entry a week. To add to this, the cord to our laptop is fried and our replacement hasn´t arrived, so our only time to write is in the internet cafes in town. Perhaps sometime soon we will be back to normal.


In the meantime, let me share a unique experience that Trisha and I had a few days ago that I like to call, “How to make your dinner hosts feel like crap.¨ It all began the second week we moved into our little house in Matagalpa. The kind and loving lady who rented us our house and lives next door with her 10 year old daughter and 18 year old son invited us to dinner. It was great! The food was tasty, the conversation flowed effortlessly all evening, and Trisha and I were amazed to be using our Spanish with such ease. After we returned home that night (through the side door actually) we were glowing with just how nice and fun Angela and her family were. We both agreed that we had to have them over soon, both to reciprocate their hospitality and to enjoy their wonderful company again. We were filled with excitement at the prospect.

So, we arranged a Sunday dinner at our house, about two weeks from our first dinner at their home. I suppose the warning signs of our eminent failure in this endeavor presented themselves as we neared our dinner date. For the life of us, we couldn´t figure out what to cook for them. The main problem was Angela. She mentioned to us during our first dinner that she was mostly a vegetarian (I think that was the Spanish translation), and that she didn´t like to cook with salt or sugar. Okaaay. She also has a 10 year old girl, who does eat meat, but like all 10 year old girls, was a picky eater. And then there was the 18 year old, who at the first dinner seemed to eat all the healthy foods she prepared, but mentioned his enjoyment of the fried street foods in town. So how are we going to please all these people?

We spent a good portion of an afternoon researching recipes online. Many looked great and we thought might work out. The problem though was finding all the ingredients each recipe called for in Nicaragua, or another, not having a grill to really cook something nice (I love to grill). So we finally settled on a vegetarian chili. Kids like chili, right? Vegetarians like it too if there´s no meat? Maybe even teenagers like it. With that decision made, Trisha and I set out shopping for all the ingredients. It wasn´t a complicated recipe, but with the salad and other sides we wanted to prepare, we knew our chances of finding everything in just one of the two groceries here in town were slim. And we were correct. By the end, we had to visit both groceries and the local mercardo for special vegetables, and spent a good amount of money and time making this work out

When Sunday arrived Trisha and I began preparing the food early, cleaning the house, setting the table etc. We didn´t mind putting in the extra work to make our guests feel welcome. As our meeting time approached, our food was complete and the house looked great. The side dishes were all up to par and the chilli, although a little spicy, promised to be a mouth-watering meal. Angela and her daughter arrived in the typically late Nicaraguan fashion and seemed to be in good spirits. Trisha and I were feeling relaxed about the evening as we began to disperse the food, despite the fact that our guests said they only wanted a little portion. Shrugging off their portion request, I began to feel jovial as I always enjoy watching guests take a first bite of a meal I prepared. You can always tell right away how you have done with a meal from the first bite. Angela´s first bite was definitely an unforgettable one.

Our kind, nice neighbor, Angela, raised her spoon to her mouth and took what appeared to be a minuscule bite of the soup. Immediately, and with more drama than I´ve seen in any recent movie, she grabbed her throat, pushed her whole bowl of chili away, and said something in Spanish about the chili being too spicy. At first we thought she was joking around. Funny.... ha ....ha ! But no, this supposed well mannered woman was dead serious and would not take another bite of the chili, let alone attempt to dilute the already small amount of spiciness with some sour cream. Trisha and I just sat their for a moment, not knowing what to do. “Would you like something else?” “Is there anything else we can get you?” “ I´m sorry?” She returned to her polite mode, telling us that is was okay, not to worry, and that she would just eat the side dishes. Taking her mothers lead, the daughter also only took the smallest of bites, claimed it was too spicy, and pushed it to the side. And it got worse.

After about 10 minutes, while Trisha and I were at eating and enjoying the chili, and our guests eating and maybe enjoying the side dishes, the son arrived. In her apologies earlier, Angela claimed that her son would like the chili, because he enjoys spicy food. So we thought maybe our efforts wouldn´t be a total failure with this family. The son properly sat down at the table, looked at the bowl of chili for a good long while, took a bite, and not only pushed it away, but physically picked up the bowl and put on the kitchen counter. I guess he wasn´t a fan either.

Do you know what that type of rejection does to a host, despite making their cooking-self esteem and hard work feel totally insignificant? It makes them terrible in their second language. Trisha and I spent the remainder of the evening languishing in our Spanish, not understanding what our guests were saying and barely piecing together anything coherent in return. Our two hour dinner seemed to drag on endlessly.

The next morning we woke up feeling extremely put-out. What the heck happened last night? Who was this nice family who was such a pleasure during our first meeting, and turned into the rudest guests I have ever encountered? Who teaches their kids that it´s okay not to at least try the food a host put in front of you? I am reminded of a time when I was child, visiting my aunt and uncle and was presented the absolute worst meal I have probably ever eaten (lets just say hotdog bun, miracle whip, and I think bits of ham). But you know what; Tyler and I ate our way through most of it and smiled the whole time. That was what I thought you were supposed to teach your kids.

Our bitterness lasted a good two days, and slowly our crushed dinner dreams melted into a funny little story. We still see Angela now and then, but the relationship is definitely changed for us. We just aren´t that interested in investing a lot of time with her. Nor will we be inviting her and her children to dinner anytime soon. With only two and half more weeks here anyway, it doesn´t make too much of difference.

By the way, the chili leftovers were excellent!