Stop the presses...i have peanut butter - 18:00
I was in Recoleta on Saturday with a friend, just passing through the weekly feria that takes place in Paseo Recoleta near the famous cemetary, and we were discussing this and that. And I mention that though I'm honestly not missing much from back home, I am missing peanut butter.
To which she said, "I have peanut butter back at my apartment."
Turns out she'd decided to bring some with her, and, not knowing the part of town she lived in very well in the first week or so, had basically had peanut butter sandwiches every day for lunch, had become sick of such sandwiches and thus was willing to part with it.
Joy of joys.
We went back to her apartment after a spell, and feeling a bit peckish, she offered it to me with some bread.
I kid you not, my hand was trembling as it brought the knife down into the room temperature substance, and even more so as it quivered above the bread, spreading it down as smoothly as the maid does my bedsheets every morning.
Simply magnificent.
...
What else?
Ah! Yesterday I made breakfast for the family. Pancakes and scrambled eggs. I was a bit wary of the fact that I hadn't cooked anything myself since leaving school in May and that I'd do a number of things wrong, not to mention the cooking ware was a bit odd too (a frying pan with a dip in the center? Made it hard to do more than one or two at one time).
But lest I think that I'm actually doing this all myself, both Dany and Brenda were there to add their two cents. Or two centavos. Six, if you're going to go for the exchange rate.
There are two things that stand out. The first is when I had just finished mixing the batter, Brenda came over as I was turning on the stove. "No, this won't do," she said, "it's not smooth."
And I not having made pancakes more than once, said nothing as she proceeded to take the batter and ferociously stir to break up the small pieces of flour, though I had a feeling this wasn't as big a deal as she made it.
Long story short, the silver dollar pancakes were more like silver dollar crepes. But still tasted the same.
So now, as I'm cooking these very flaco hotcakes, Dany comes over with a cool little toasting pan, puts it on the next burner, and starts laying down white bread. Let's just say that I think I ate the most of the pancakes while Brenda and Denise at least had more of the toast. But when they did take the pancakes they had them with a side of dulce de leche. naturally.
The last thing I'll say about the morning is don't let anybody try to tell you that honey is the same thing as maple syrup. It is not.
What else? (find out)