Public markets and cat calls

Last month, we packed up and moved from Panama to Brazil. During our last weeks in Panama, we celebrated with friends, said our goodbyes to the high rise that I had a tumultuous relationship with for two years, and visited the public market. I've always said public markets are the essence of a city, which is why I chose this place to say my goodbyes to Panama. 

Watermelon vendors, Panama 2014

Markets are where you buy delicious food, and also receive cat-calls that either make you or break you. Being a tough cookie, I generally respond well to cat-calls because I find them anthropologically fascinating. They transcend racial and class lines, and, if they are harmless, PG-rated, and fall along the lines of "you look as delicious as these watermelons", I find them endearing.

A week after visiting Panama's mercado de abastos, which literally translates to provisions market, I went to visit my sister in New York City. The public market scene in NYC is different than that in Panama because markets in NYC are usually cleaner and more expensive. I've also never received cat-calls in NYC farmer's markets. Actually, I receive significantly less cat calls in the US than in Latin America, or other countries.Despite these differences, markets do have some things in common. You have to talk to someone to buy your food.

There's something valuable and appealing about speaking to another person to ask for the items you want to buy, having to communicate with someone instead of simply grabbing a pear at the grocery store produce section and rushing, anonymously, to the check-out counter. I love that a conversation with a fruit vendor about seasonal cherries very often becomes a conversation about something else completely unrelated to a cherry.

It's hip to buy locally-grown stuff at a farmer's market. I think the popularity of farmer's markets is due to the element of human interaction and not just about the quality of the produce. Despite our addiction to anti-social smart phones and our need-to-grab-our-food-and-go culture, I believe we like the idea of stepping outdoors and talking to a vendor about their watermelons…even if they begin the conversation by telling you that you look as tasty as their bounty. Or perhaps you're lured to their stall because that's how they started the conversation in the first place.

This marks my last entry about my life and culinary pursuits in Panama. Watch for entries about my new adventures living in Brazil... and whether or not I'll get cat-calls at Brazilian markets.

A palenquera fruit vendor holding my son. Cartagena, Colombia, 2009

I mean, how could you NOT buy couscous and lamb from this guy? Marrakech, Morocco, 2011

Here are some photos of some lovely public market vendors I've come across in my travels.

Feeling warm in Port of Spain, Trinidad & Tobago, 2009

Coconut vendor by the Savanah, Port of Spain. When I shared this photo on a blog post, my friend's mom recognized this vendor. She was raised in Trinidad and left more than 40 years ago. He's still selling coconuts.

Beautiful boy, beautiful pomeracs, Port of Spain, 2010

My shark vendor in Port of Spain. She had bright red hair and always a smile on her face. Trinidad and Tobago, 2010

Moroccan mint tea server in Marrakech, Morocco, 2011

Fried red snapper, Embera Drua indian community, Panama, 2012

Mr. Best fish curry in the world, New Delhi, India, 2013

When cooks can't cook

My husband and I met in Honolulu at an international education development conference. The day we met, I was certain he was the man I wanted to marry and live a global nomad's life with. We got married exactly one year after the day we met. Very romantic, I know. The not so romantic aspect of our life in international development, is that we sometimes have to brave the not so romantic aspects of living in developing countries. I've had to rough it in Equatorial Guinea, Africa, where I was hospitalized in a "clinic" in the middle of nowhere from food poisoning caused by eating bush rat. I've also been known to be looking maniacally for a restroom in Mexico, Colombia, China, and Washington DC (damn that hot dog from a stand in the National Mall)!

I wouldn't exactly say we're roughing it in Panama, since we live in a beautiful high rise in an impressive new concrete jungle of shiny, tall, modern, futuristic-looking buildings. When you're about to land at the Panama City airport, the view of the skyline resembles Miami or even Dubai instead of what you would imagine a Central American skyline to look like. 

Despite the marble, views of the Pacific, pools, saunas, and all the luxury, however, construction is not of the highest quality. It's common for floors to rise all of a sudden, creating giant pyramids of marble tiles in the middle of your living room. Water pipes are known to burst constantly, causing entire buildings to lose water for days at a time. Lack of maintenance is the norm, despite high administration and rental fees.

Three weeks ago, they shut off the gas in our building. No hot water. No stove. No oven. No dryer. The reason = multiple gas leaks in almost every floor of our 40-story building. The gas guy told me there was a gas pipe on the 40th floor that was in such bad shape, it "would have been a bomb." 

We've had to be resourceful. I'm using wedding gifts that usually remain untouched in the back of my cabinets. Cuisinart griddlers and toaster ovens have baked, broiled, panninied, and toasted like they've never done before. I heat water with an electric kettle for my young sons to shower (under a watering can we hold above their heads), but my husband and I bathe in freezing H2O. Yes, it's hot here in Panama, but damn, that water is still cold. 

I'm using this opportunity to teach my four-year-old the concept of luxuries like running water, hot water, and electricity. I'm also using this opportunity to think of recipes I can cook without the use of a stove or a normal oven. Here is the recipe for a roasted vegetable lasagna I made in my toaster oven. 

When cooks can't cook....they still find a way. 

Roasted Vegetable Lasagna (*Adapted from Rombauer's Joy of Cooking)

Ingredients:
zucchini (3 lbs)
eggplants (3 lbs)
tomatoes (3 lbs)
coarse Kosher salt (I like Mortons)
fresh ground pepper
olive oil (1 tsp)
Ricotta cheese (1 lb)
Parmesan cheese (1/2 cup)
Eggs (2)
nutmeg (1/2 tsp)
breadcrumbs (1/4 cup)

In roasting pans, roast three pounds each of sliced zucchini, eggplant, and tomatoes in plenty of coarse Kosher salt, fresh ground pepper, and olive oil. Roast at 350 degrees until nice and caramelized. 

Cook dried lasagna (1 lb) in salted boiling water and a splash of vegetable oil for a couple of minutes less than normal cooking time because pasta will continue cooking in the oven.

In a bowl, mix ricotta cheese (1 lb), parmesan cheese (1/2 cup), two eggs, salt, nutmeg, and pepper and set in fridge until ready to use.

To assemble lasagna, place one layer of pasta on a glass pyrex lined with olive oil, then add a layer of the ricotta cheese mixture. Top with crushed pepper and roasted vegetables, and repeat for as many layers as you can. Finish off with a layer of lasagna topped with parmesan cheese and breadcrumbs.

Cover lasagna with aluminum foil and bake at 350 degrees (ideally  in a normal oven, but when you have to, a toaster oven works as well) for half an hour. Remove foil and bake for another 15 minutes. Remove from oven and let rest for 15 minutes before serving.

I never want to buy tomatoes again...

...instead, I want to grow them myself.

We're all aware of the importance of eating our greens, but I want to talk about how good it is to grow your own greens, and reds, and purples...and how great it feels to feed them to your kids!

My son holding a tomato plant he grew from a seed

We live on the 22nd floor of a high rise in Panama City. Our apartment has a balcony with a view of the Pacific Ocean and the Panama Canal in the distance. Every day thousands of pounds of produce come in ships and containers through the canal. It is then delivered to Panamanian supermarkets. Chinese markets in Panama carry high-quality imported produce, and only a lucky few can purchase it. These grocery stores charge about $8.95 for a basket of 1/2 lb of strawberries, $4.95 for a tiny pack of blueberries, and up to $9 for a 5-oz bag of baby spinach.

Our spinach

What about local production? According to Debora Rivera, a Panamanian Environmental Engineer, Panama has one of the lowest restrictions of the use of pesticides in the world. In an informal conversation with the Country Representative of the Inter-American Development Bank in Panama, he explained that in Panama, the incidence of cancer most likely caused by the use of pesticides (for both farmers who handle the chemicals and those who consume the produce), is rampant. Some residents of Panama are taking matters into their own hands, reacting to disturbing legislature that approves the use of very unhealthy pesticides, and created organic farms in Panama. Some sell their organic produce in the city, at high prices.

It does not surprise me that Panamanian farmers have to use a lot of chemicals in order to grow broccoli, cauliflower, and tomatoes, for example, because these plants are not native to Panama's hot and humid climate. Panama's average temperature is 82 degrees and its average humidity is 81.5%. In addition, there are tons of tropical bugs around. This is a rainforest, after all. Needless to say, many plants don't do well in that environment and the most effective way to grow luscious green lettuce is to spray on nasty chemicals.

Armed with this knowledge, I decided to try to grow my own tomatoes, spinach, carrots, zucchini, and herbs, among others, while avoiding the use of pesticides. The result is that after two months of planting, watering, and nurturing seeds and seedlings, I harvested my first spinach leaves yesterday.

Our first spinach harvest

We live in a world where food is manipulated, genetically engineered, and tainted with chemicals in order to survive a long voyage from farm to table. I personally don't like the idea that the produce I'm feeding my children travels from a farm in California, through the Panama Canal, and onto my table. I wish the trip was shorter, so I started my own garden...22 stories up.

Our veggie garden high up in the sky

I close my eyes and imagine a spinach leaf that I nourished from infancy, and love the feeling of envisioning that it's doing good things to my body. I made baby food for my son with that spinach (chicken stock, black quinoa, potato, spinach and kale), and loved knowing exactly what was on those leafy greens.

As an anthropologist, I like to think about what we decide to feed ourselves as humans. We are, after all, what we eat.

I couldn't resist including the Candide reference...sow your own garden. Don't mind if I do!

From seeds...

White Teeth*

I recently visited Embera Drua, an indigenous community located in the Darien region of Panama. When I first arrived, these are the things that entered my mind: paradise, happy, Tahiti, Gaugin, staged?, white teeth(!)

When I thought about the angle of this blog entry, I considered three options. The first is to write like a romantic anthropologist and celebrate how wonderful it is that this girl is dressed like this:

Panama or Tahiti?

The second option for a blog entry angle is to tell a far less romantic side of the story.

The third, and final, option for this food blog entry is, of course, to talk about the food. After much consideration, and because I find all three angles equally interesting, I'll incorporate them all.

Our guide, a prominent member of the community and the person in charge of public relations for the indigenous group cooperative, explained that back in the day, the Embera Drua used to wear clothing made of tree bark decorated with natural dyes. He explained that they stopped using this clothing in order to preserve trees. He said that only two of the seven indigenous communities of Panama, the Embera being one of them, dress in "traditional" clothing. So, what is "traditional"?

As an anthropologist, "traditional" and "custom" are my least favorite words. This is because I believe people are constantly changing, especially at this point in time, when the world is a peanut and it is easy to blend traditions and customs, such as, say, the Embera Drua of Panama with Tahiti. Therefore, I think tradition and custom are evolving concepts and if I lifted the skirt of an Embera lady, I would probably see the following text printed on the fabric: "Made in Tahiti". Actually, I don't know whether or not Tahitians still wear the skirts that Gauguin made so famous. I doubt that Tahiti exports anything other than gorgeous vacation memories, so it would probably say "Made in Bangladesh, Pakistan, or India" but you get the idea. 

Embera house and hanging kilts, which are purchased in Panama city but my guess is that they're probably imported from Asia.

Ia Orana Maria Aka Hail Mary, Paul Gaugin, 1891

This doesn't mean that an Embera woman's current "tradition" or "customs" are less valid. In fact, the Embera are (very wisely) adapting their traditions and customs in order to participate in Panama's tourist market. The tourist industry is one of their most significant sources of revenue, so they are re-inventing themselves in order to preserve their existence as an indigenous community. So what if they add a few "non-traditional" beads and textiles along the way in order to look pretty and make for better photo ops when the tourists come by. 

Necklace made of US quarters (which are used as currency in Panama).

Now let's talk about the Embera community's white teeth. Well, they have them, and the reason I find this interesting is that I doubt they see dentists every six months. I think it's because they eat real food. Not processed food, mega sugary drinks and snacks, but rather fruits, fish, plantains, and vegetables. 

Here's another popping of the romantic bubble, however. To my heartbreak, I saw a pile of Coca Cola crates, a young girl drinking a florescent pink fizzy drink, and a mother feeding a fuscia-colored creamy sugary wafer to a seven-month-old baby. I wanted to shout "NO! DON'T DO IT! Keep your white teeth!" But I guess it's inevitable that now that they can afford to go to town and purchase beef, cooking oil, and rice, they can also buy junk food along the way. Oh well, there go the white teeth.

Embera Drua woman preparing the fire for our lunch.

Deep-frying.

Delicious fried fish and plantain for lunch.

*By the way, I'm reading Zadie Smith's White Teeth and it's fantastic. You can tell a lot about a person by the color of their teeth.

**Check out my photographer friend Alejandra's gorgeous photos of the community.

***I highly recommend visiting the Embera Drua. They have a community cooperative that organizes day trips that includes a canoe ride along the river Chagres, a dip in a beautiful waterfall, and a chance to meet the lovely people of the community, have lunch, and shop for stunning Embera crafts.

My son with an Embera Drua tucan mask.
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