So, how was the food in Nicaragua?
What would you feed your family and guests if the closest grocery store was two hours up the river?
Keeping food cold is always a challenge and insects are waiting the next opportunity to invade–even leaf-eating ants might make a foray into the cleanest kitchen.
If ovens are hard to come by, how would you bake?
Could you manage if you didn’t have any electrical appliances?
Welcome to Nicaragua.
The food was great and different from the usual fare we purchase without thought at Safeway.
Each morning we had a different fruit juice at Sabalos Lodge, all made from fruit growing on the property: passionfruit, papapya and the exotic named dragonfruit juice. Purple in color, it looked as dramatic as its name.
Every meal featured the basic plantain–sliced and fried dry, it basically is the main inexpensive carbohydrate for the community.
A type of chili sauce sat on the table, but fearing traveler tummy, none of us risked the “pico” made of peppers and tomatoes.
The tarpon fish that swims in the Sabalos river is technically endangered and thus not sold for food. We did, however, sample the enormous “shrimp” that inhabit the waters.
With a garlic stuffing, it was delicious! You can see the plantains, yellow disks on the left, and some fried potatoes on the right. Pretty much everything was fried.
For lunch in Sabalos, we visited a hostel and watched as the cook fed nearly 20 people in conditions most Americans would consider primative.
We didn’t feel safe eating fresh salad and the only vegetables we saw were grilled. For that reason, whenever we were served raw vegetables or salad, we passed them on to the Peace Corps volunteers.
After awhile, even they couldn’t keep up with our additions to their meals! Meat, particularly chicken, was our mainstay and we ate plenty. Deserts were custards, a dulce a leche treat and sorbet made from the local fruit. None of us went hungry.
Indeed, some of us got overfed out of language problems. When Travis asked for a taco, he indicated he wanted tres.
“Tres?” the waiter repeated.
Travis held up three fingers. He got three plates of tacos. Fortunately, he was willing to share.
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