Queque

Despite the overabundance of bananas (works cut down piles of them every day), I was surprised at their lack of incorporation into food. Occasionally they are eaten fried (which don’t taste nearly as good as fried plantains), but other than that, they are pretty much only eaten in their original form. A few weeks ago I figured I would take it upon myself to enlighten my host mom to the deliciousness of pan de banano. When I first explained it to her she was absolutely enthralled. A bread made out of bananas was something she just couldn’t fathom (in retrospect, I probably shouldn’t have translated it literally, but called it a cake—or queque as they call it in Costa Rica—instead).  “You have to make that for us before you leave!” she had told me and I readily accepted. Despite the fact that we don’t have an (electric) oven, I figured I’d try to find someone who did but my host mom wouldn’t hear of it. We have a woodstove in the back of the house and that is what I would be using to make my banana bread.

Finally, yesterday I was able to gather all the ingredients (for some unknown reason we didn’t have bananas for a long time) so I made us some banana bread. My host dad struck up the fire in the stove and pretty much did all of the real hard work—all I had to do was make the batter. I had no idea how it would turn out considering I didn’t know if the temperature was at the allotted 375^o or if the flames would give it steady heat all the way through, but I figured, people made banana bread before electricity. Long story short, when it looked about ready (much faster than I had anticipated), my host dad removed it from the fire and brought it into the house. After doing the knife test (came out perfectly clean, to my surprise), it was ready—and time to dig in.

Now, I don’t know if it’s just because it’s been 10-weeks of living of rice and beans in small-town Costa Rica, but I’d have to say that that banana bread was probably one of the most delicious things I’ve ever made. Wondering if it was maybe just the shock of having something that reminded me so much of home, I helped myself to a second slice. And I still thought it was the most delicious thing I’ve ever made. My host family thought so, too. By this morning the entire loaf was gone.

There’s currently another batch in the oven.