Barbecue

Pecos is trying to start the barbecue grill, again. He had bought a bag of briquettes at the grocery store in San Isidro. For the starter fluid he was shown a small waxy block that smells like kerosene. These briquettes are actually blackened chunks of scrap wood and many of the pieces still have bent nails sticking out of them. The wax starter never ignites. I watch as Pecos gives up and once again takes our bottle of rum and dashes it on the few scraps of newspaper that he has added to the mix. This process keeps him busy for a good half hour, accompanied by much cursing, and when there finally is a good fire it is ready in a few minutes and won’t last long. I suspect that soon all of our cook-out fires, like everyone else’s here, will be made from wood that we’ll gather from the jungle trees.

Our barbecue grill was purchased for a few dollars and found roadside along with several others in front of a rural house. A two-gallon propane tank had been cut in half lengthwise for one side to serve as a rounded grill and the top half to serve as lid. It is hinged and stands high on four stork-like legs of re-bar that are painted black to match the tank.

What are we barbecuing? We are unsure. The carneceria selections are rather overwhelming. These meat market / butcher shops are everywhere – glass cases up front and unrefrigerated carcasses hanging behind them. I focus on only the display cases and avoid breathing deeply. We buy chicken and chorizo and a few lengthy, fat-striped pieces that may be from either a pig or a goat. We avoid the displays of heaped pig tails, chicken feet, kidneys, tripe and other unmentionables. As for actual cuts of meat, there is not much that we recognize.

The chicken is so flavorful! And the chorizo, delicious! The chorizo is encased in what appears to be a strip of true intestine. As I cook cut-up pieces in the skillet, I press on it with the spatula and the ground sausage falls easily out of the rubbery casing, which I throw away. This chorizo is lean and tasty, not at all greasy like that found in the U.S., and a small amount can season up a few bean or rice dishes.

Pecos has put the long pieces of meat on the grill. The fat miraculously melts away and they turn out to be meaty ribs of pork. I make a barbecue sauce from the thin sugary ketchup (which comes in a plastic bag), flakes of brown sugar, fresh lemon juice, olive oil and garlic. The cabbage salad (mayonnaise also from a plastic bag) and mashed chayote are ready, too. We dine by candlelight on the porch as the sun sets over the mountains. 