Shop Talk

So let's talk about shopping today. After four weeks, I finally feel like I am a decent hunter. I say hunt because what I'm doing is not as easy as gathering, it's hunting ... I'm talking about food.

Today I went to a store called Jumbo (pronounced Joonbo - the bus driver won't know how much to charge you if you say Jumbo, and he'll keep saying Que? Que? with a few laughs in between). Fortunately the bus I pick up to go to Joonbo is only a couple of blocks from my current house, so I hop on the bus and get off fifteen minutes later right in front of Joonbo.

Joonbo is a large supermarket full of products I don't recognize, and can't pronouce, or read about. An interesting fact about Argentina is they don't like imports. It's not that they just tax them heavily, they don't allow them. For example, BMW wants to sell cars here, and they don't have a plant here. But Argentina has declared you must manufacture the same value in products here in Agrentina that you are going to sell in Argentina. So in order to sell here, they have a plant that makes mayonaise (I think it's mayonaise - or something like it). I guess they feel the Argentines can manufacture good mayonaise, but not the best cars.

So because of all the import restrictions, 99% of what they carry is Argentine products. My first week here, I walked up and down isles of different grocery stores looking for anything I recognized, and wondered what I was going to feed my family. The hunt was on.

The hunt is still on. While I have figured out what some things are (mostly due to the kindness of others - I had a couple of women take me shopping and show me what they buy), I feel like I am cooking with one hand tied behind my back for a few reasons:

First, I don't have any of my stuff yet. Our air shipment that was supposed to take ten days still is not here. I just got an email that while it was supposed to arrive today, it didn't. It was in the port at Miami a few days ago, so I just pray that Tropical Storm/Hurricane Isaac didn't soak everything.

Why does that matter? Because I have a skeleton kitchen with a meager selection of pans and utensils. I have a mini-skillet to feed a family of 6. Oh, but they did provide two pie pans, because with all the stuff I have I'll be making pies?

The other reason I would like my stuff is I need my spices. All the spices (I say all with a little laugh, because it's really only a few) come in these little bags. Kind of like this little tiny bag of baking soda:

I put the spoons next to it for two reasons: first to show how small the largest packet is, and second to show you my measusring spoons. When I need to add a teaspoon of baking soda, I pick up the small one and eyeball it, and hope for the best.

The second obstacle I have is figuring out how they do things. For example, milk comes like this:

So at first, we bought a glass pitcher so we could pour the milk from the bag into the pitcher. The problem was, we spilled it every time. All over the pitcher, the counter, the table. Until we saw these:

I wish I had sound effects and it would make that heavenly choir sound. With this little piece of plastic, my life got a lot easier. Before this little concoction, I was constantly spilling, wiping, then washing pitchers. Now, I just plop the bag in, cut off the corner of the bag, and pour. :)

Okay one more thing about the milk, it tastes like powdered milk. The way we solved that:

Heavenly choirs again. So I know I said they don't import things. Nesquick makes the chocolate powder down here too, because the milk needs it!!! For those of you who don't know my feelings about processed foods and such, let me fill you in. I'm not a fan. I like to keep it simple and as close to real food as possible. So for me to be singing heavenly choirs about Nesquick, you know the milk tastes pretty weird.

Are you ready for the third obstacle? My oven/stove. It's terrible. All four burners go from really high to pretty dang high. I burn a lot of food. Especially with the mini junk skillet. I wish it stopped there, I really do, but the oven is just as bad as the stovetop. First, this is a picture of the temperature gage on the oven:

As you can see, there is not a single temperature marking. You light it and take a guess where along that curved line 350 degrees might be. After burning a few things, I ordered this from Amazon:

Last night I made banana bread (I borrowed a 9x13 pan from a friend), so I turned on the oven, stuck the thermometer in and checked it. It was at 400 degrees, so I opened the door, cranked the knob counter-clockwise a little and waited until it was 325 degrees. I stuck the pan in, but set the timer for 10 minutes. When I checked at ten minutes, it was down to 300 degrees, so I cranked he knob clockwise just a bit. Five minutes later, 375 degrees. Open oven, crank counter-clockwise just a bit. Close oven. Five minutes later, 315 degrees. Crank clockwise. Suddenly, husband comes in pleading: "Just take it out. I don't want it to burn. It doesn't matter if the middle is gooey." I guess too much anticipation for American food, followed by burnt disappointments leaves one's family desperate!

So after all this burnt-food frustration, you'd think I'd be a super-svelte soccer mom, right? Well, the problem is they have this stuff here called, Dulce de Leche. They have a whole isle of it at the grocery store. It makes everything taste better. You actually don't even need to put it on anything. You can just eat it right out of the jar. And they make ice cream out of it ... technically I think it's gelato. And there's a place right around the corner ... it's just so easy to go get some dulce de leche ice cream for dinner to soothe our burnt tongues!

This post is already way too long, so until next time, Adios!