I spent the better part of June in Costa Rica this past summer with my friend, Jose, and his family. Jose’s mother, Margarita, was wonderful to me while I was there, offering me coffee and things to eat around every corner of the day.
Before I left, I asked her to teach me about cooking a few of the things she had made for the family and me during my stay. The night before my flight we convened in the kitchen. There was a towel over her shoulder, her hands were wet from constantly washing them and the stove was hot.
