In Costa Rica, grocery stores are tied to the social class of the area they serve. At the lowest end, there's Pali—a chain known for its affordability but with compromises on presentation, variety, and customer service (Think Sac N Save meets Dollar General). Maxi Pali, a step up in size and selection, offers a bit more but still caters to budget-conscious shoppers. Then, there's Walmart, a rare find reserved for the highest social class areas, where imported goods and a wider range of products await, but at a steep cost and the closest one is an hour and a half away.
Cheese, a comfort food staple back home, has proven hard to find here. Slices refuse to melt, ricotta is a mythical creature, and cheddar, when found, comes at a premium. Faced with this cheese dilemma, I took matters into my own hands—literally—learning to make ricotta from scratch. Surprisingly simple and immensely rewarding, it's become a testament to the adaptability and resourcefulness demanded by our new life here.
Amidst the challenges of finding familiar ingredients, homemade bread has emerged as a comforting constant in our meals. While my attempt at sourdough proved less than successful—perhaps the tropical climate wasn't quite conducive to the intricate fermentation process—basic peasant bread has become a delightful staple. With just flour, yeast, salt, and water, I've discovered the therapeutic rhythm of kneading dough by hand, the anticipation of watching it rise, and the comforting aroma that fills our home as it bakes. Each loaf, simple yet satisfying, has become a symbol of perseverance and a tangible reminder that even amidst unfamiliarity, there's joy to be found in the simple pleasures of homemade food.
Speaking of baking, our culinary adventures in Costa Rica took an unexpected turn with the discovery of our gas stove—initially a source of excitement that quickly revealed its unique quirks. Instead of the expected connection to a conventional gas line, we found ourselves reliant on a propane tank reminiscent of those used for backyard grills back home. Initially skeptical of its capacity, we were pleasantly surprised by its endurance, managing to cook a variety of dishes over the course of a month.
One of the most delightful uses of our humble stove has been our baking escapades. Despite its modest fuel source, it hasn't deterred us from experimenting in the kitchen. Clayton and Carrie, fueled by a mix of curiosity and boredom, have turned our kitchen into a makeshift bakery. From simple cookies to delicious coffee cakes, each creation has been a testament to creativity and adaptability, using what we have at hand to satisfy our cravings for familiar flavors.
The process has become more than just a means of filling our stomachs; it's become a bonding experience, a way to turn challenges into opportunities for growth and joy. We're reminded that home isn't just a place—it's the warmth of shared moments and the resilience to turn even the smallest resources into something truly special.
Fresh produce is another adventure altogether. Lettuce, a basic salad component, is a luxury only found at Walmart—and even then, it's a gamble on how long it will stay fresh, especially with the long hot van ride home. Our salads now are mostly made of cabbage. The rest of our shopping experience resembles a treasure hunt where menus and shopping lists often yield to the mercy of whatever's in stock that day. Yet, amidst the challenges, there are treasures found at roadside stands like avocados and rambutan—red, spiky fruits that are as difficult to open as they are delicious to eat, reminiscent of grapes with their juicy interiors.
Coffee is one of the things I look forward to waking up to every morning. Coffee making in Costa Rica is likely one of the changes I will forever make. It's just better! Traditionally, Costa Rican coffee is brewed using a chorreador and a coffee sock. The name chrreador comes from the verb “chorrear” in Spanish, which translates as “to drip” “to pour” or “to be soaked." The coffee sock is really called a bolsita (little bag).
To make traditional Costa Rican café chorreado you obviously need your chorreador and bolsita, but you also will need hot water in a kettle, ground coffee, and a coffee cup. Then, you simply pour hot water through the coffee in the coffee sock and it runs down into a coffee cup at the base of the chorreador. You have the perfect single-serve cup of coffee. It's amazing! It also helps that they grow amazing coffee here.
Navigating Costa Rican grocery stores has been a lesson in patience and adaptation. Labels and measurements are now becoming familiar friends, and each shopping trip is a reminder of God's provision in unexpected places. While I still dream of stumbling upon a bustling farmer's market, I am thankful to have finally conquered the grocery stores.
As we continue our journey, I'm learning that the richness of life isn't just in what we have, but in how we embrace and make the most of what's available. Costa Rica's grocery stores may lack the comforts of home, but they've taught me invaluable lessons in resilience, gratitude, and the joy of discovering new tastes and textures. In every meal prepared with love and creativity, I find a reminder of God's abundant grace, sustaining us through each new day in this beautiful and challenging place.
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