Cooking up a new hobby

If the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach, it’s a miracle that I ended up with a fantastic husband.

In the past decade we’ve been together he’s never complained about the meals I’ve cooked — a rotating schedule of staples such as spaghetti and meat sauce, plain grilled chicken and french fries with the odd steamed vegetable thrown in. Most of our meals and snacks come from a bag, a can, a jar or a packet (as in ready-made spice mixes) — or, far too often, the delivery man.

The only one real dinner party I ever really threw was a total disaster. The corn on the cob (in the husk) spent too much time on the BBQ, resulting in dried and crispy kernels. It was the same for the salmon, which was sucked of all its juices, the shriveled carcass chewy and dry.

I’ve never hosted dinner since, no doubt much to the dismay of all our friends who, despite never receiving a reciprocal invitation, keep having us over.

It’s not that I don’t like to cook, I just don’t know how. I am a devoted fan of a colleague’s cooking blog (patentandthepantry.wordpress.com) but only because I enjoy the writing and the mouth-watering photos.

Back home my cupboards were always full but seemingly bare because I don’t know what to do with the myriad spices, rices and cans of all kinds of exotic things that accumulated. And with the frenetic pace of a life filled with work, kids and activities, there was simply no time time to read recipes, shop for ingredients and prepare creative meals.

Of all the changes I anticipated with our move to Costa Rica, an improvement in my cooking wasn’t one them.

But it seems I’m discovering my inner Julia Child, as someone else once remarked somewhere that now escapes me.

In Calgary, many items of convenience are inexpensive (or perhaps I don’t closely compare prices) while fresh produce drives up the grocery bill.

Here it is the opposite. In the central valley, the breadbasket of Costa Rica, there is an abundance of fresh vegetables and fruit, many we havent’ even yet tried.

The green beans, which strangely my kids adore, are jumbo-sized, juicy and are rarely pocked and shriveled like the ones that appear on Safeway’s shelves at home. The pineapples are the same, and dirt cheap. And the avocados are to die for.

When we first arrived, I commented on the sticker shock after a trip to the grocery store for what I considered to be basics. That has changed now that we’re finding our way around and getting creative in the kitchen and picking up fresh veggies and fruit at the Sunday market, where a gigantic bag of goodies added up to less than $20.

I’m even eating meat after finding a large store that actually keeps it properly refrigerated instead of the fly-infested meat that lay in pools of milky water from the melting ice in many corner shops and even the weekend farmers market.

The other night, I cubed up some chicken, threw in some fresh cilantro, garlic and squeezed a bit of juice from a lime and the result was a tangy and tender dish that left my mouth watering for more. I also sliced up potatoes into rectangular shapes resembling french fries, drizzled them with a bit of olive oil and roasted them in the oven until they were cripsy. My kids, who won’t eat a potato if it looks like one, gobbled them up.

I’m almost past my phobia of brown eggs, which I’m sure are healthier than the white variety but which still make me queasy for some reason.

It’s early days, but this cooking thing is proving quite enjoyable. It’s a pleasant and unexpected discovery that’s come with this change in lifestyle.

Now if I could only get rid of the ants . . .