Comida Típica: Baleadas, Anafre and Sopa de Caracol

Hungry.

M and I have only been in country (see how I’m picking up the lingo) since October, but we’ve already had the opportunity to get to know some about Honduran cuisine. In fact, my first day at work I ate what could be considered the national street food, the baleada. Baleada is a tortilla filled with beans and cheese and usually bits of scrambled egg (although different varieties are sold).   The name also translates to English as “shot,” with two competing folk stories as to the origin of the name. The first, that the little beans look like bullets that are shot into the tortilla, the second being that the street vendor who made the baleadas famous was shot in the leg while selling them. You can choose what folk tale you’d like to accompany your breakfast.

Anafre, another famous dish, is a mixture of cheese, beans and chorizo. The mixture is heated in a clay pot with a heating element underneath to ensure you have maximum melt-y cheese and hot beans at all times. You usually eat it with fried tortilla strips or fresh corn tortillas.

Anafre with beans, cheese and chorizo.

Typical plate with beans, cheese, salsa, chorizo, steak, rice and avocado.

Plato típico is a dish that you can order at most traditional Honduran restaurants. Roughly translating to “traditional” or “typical” plate, it is a dish that usually comes with a grilled meat, rice, beans, some type of fresh salad, and avocado.

Another typical food you can find at most restaurants, even the ones that don’t specialize in Honduran food, are juegos o bebidas naturales (natural fruit juices). Some of the most popular are piña (pineapple), fresa (strawberry), limonada o limón (lime or lemonade), and maracuyá (passionfruit – more on this particular delicacy later). Almost all restaurants make their juices with a blend of filtered water, fruit juice and sugar (sometimes), so they are safe to drink for gringo and gringa stomachs.

Sandía (watermelon) juice.

Soups are very central to Honduran cuisine. So far I’ve eaten chicken soup, beef soup, tortilla soup, a cheese and corn dumpling soup, seafood soup, and the crème de la crème of Honduran soups, sopa de caracol.  I have yet to try the legendary mondongo soup (intestine soup).

Cheese and corn dumpling soup.

But the best soup of them all is sopa de caracol, a conch soup made with yucca, cilantro, conch, coconut milk, green plantains and spices that taste a bit like a mild West Indian curry. Looks like I’ve found a favorite lunch for the next two years!

Conch soup!

“Mucho mango” or “Mom, you were right.”

The very large tree at issue.

Over a recent vacation to visit family, I showed my Mom a picture of our yard. She looked at the picture casually and said “Wow, you guys are going to have a lot of mangoes.” I responded with confusion and she gestured at the picture.

“That tree, the big one, is a mango tree.”

Because she is my mother, I refused to believe her.

Fast forward to this week, when I finally broke down and realized that our garden was too much for my limited time and even more limited gardening skills. So, I hired a gardener. He was a charming older man, who it turns out, worked as the gardener for a previous tenant, and was now happy to restore our garden to its former glory.  Walking around the yard, he commented on various plants, what to add, what to take out, how much sun, how much shade. He stopped and stood by the huge tree, considering it.

Mucho mango,” he said, pointing up at the tree.

Good eye, Mom.

In Which We Learn Where Swisher Sweets Come From

I’m playing catch-up, this excursion took place in November 2011.

The infamous Swisher Sweets of my youth. Available in any and all gas stations in the U.S.

When I turned 18, I smoked my first cigar. (I’m sorry, Mom!) I vaguely remember going to a gas station somewhere, proudly showing my ID, and buying a cigar in a shiny red and white package. I remember much more clearly smoking that cigar. For lack of a better description, it was awful. The wrapper tasted oddly of sugar and the filler had not-too-subtle notes of tar, gasoline and black lung. I choked back the bile and sadly realized that yet another previously forbidden marker of adulthood was a disappointment.

As this was my first introduction to cigars, I understandably avoided them religiously for the next ten or so years. But after our first weeks in Tegucigalpa, we heard that a small group was going to visit a local cigar factory. We didn’t have our vehicle yet (it was somewhere in the purgatory of customs clearance), so any excursion was a welcome one. Honduras is known for fine cigars, and this would be an opportunity to learn more about them, and decide after all these years if cigars do have any redeeming value.

Much like a vineyard, both the Swisher Sweets grade cigars (awful) and the Rocky Patel Decade (apparently delicious) come from the same factory. The lower quality tobacco is simply used to make the Swisher Sweets, while the fine cigars are made with higher-quality tobacco, and a more refined manufacturing process.

A few observations about the factory. Yes, it did feel very strange to be in a room with hundreds of people rolling cigars. Also, all of the boss men and women, the overseers on the floor, were smoking cigars. This did make them look tougher, and gave everything a kind of colonial air. The workers did not each have their own cigars, but would sometimes share a cigar among a couple of rollers. There wasn’t any smoking in the drying, sorting or premium rolling rooms. The whole factory smelled very strongly of ammonia (and cigar smoke, obviously), and although it wasn’t unpleasant, you didn’t notice how oppressive it was until you got outside in the fresh air.

Sorting the leaves.

Also sorting, I think?

Rinsing the leaves? Also, this guy makes the cigar process look 100% more authentic with that hat.

Tobacco leaves.

Packaging the Swisher Sweets.

This machine tests the airflow through the cigars. After each cigar is rolled it is quality tested.

The premium room. Women were the rollers here because they are said to have a more delicate touch.

Another view of the premium room. I didn't capture it in this picture, sadly, but all of the women were wearing sky-high heels.

Butts!

Rolling room.

Side view of the rolling room.

An option of our tour was to have a set of custom-rolled cigars made for us. After coffee, our guide conferred briefly with the floor supervisors (all three smoking cigars, of course), and they laid out a variety of choices.

M ponders the selection. Our guide is the lady in pink.

 

We had to choose our filler, binder and wrapper.

I had no idea what I was doing, so I had one of the supervisors help me choose. Remembering my first experience, I just kept saying “suave, suave” (smooth), and although I have yet to smoke one, M reports that with some bourbon, they aren’t bad. (I know, he’s really taking up the expat lifestyle.)

Watching the custom-blend cigar rolling.