Family Farm To Table
The Kitchen is the Epicenter in San Luis
Ellivia Leton strolled into her home, clapped her hands and got right to cooking. Completely unfazed by the group of eight Americans in her home waiting for cooking lessons, she quickly prepared to demonstrate how to make the staple Costa Rican dish, empanadas. Using cheese made from the milk of cows on the UGA Costa Rica campus, corn flour, water and oil, Leton introduced us to the farm to table cooking style standard in the village of San Louis de Mount Verde.
“Farm To Table,” is not simply a euphemism for a trendy restaurant in this town of approximately 350, but a way of daily life. Local farmers provide fresh, organic dairy products, fruits and vegetables. The meat is even locally sourced, a newly popular concept of eating in America, that has long been an integral aspect of these people’s lives. Cooking in Costa Rica is much more than just a way to get nutrients, but a time when everyone in the family gathers and connects. The kitchen is the focal point of the home, a place of limitless welcome, and guests in Leton’s house are more often greeted with food than not.
Any potential awkwardness stemming from the language barrier between this motley crew of Georgia students and their hostess was overcome by her warmth and determination to teach us her magic empanada-making skills. As a cook at the UGA Costa Rica Campus Kitchen, she is used to dealing with English-speaking students with little knowledge of Spanish. Yet it was remarkable how comfortable she was hosting us all in her home. Her two children, Santiago, 3 and Marianna, 8 were in and out of the kitchen, weaving in between us with zero trepidation. We couldn’t help but enjoy ourselves, listening to the kids chattering away to us in Spanish, while their mother was teaching us how to mix the corn flour, oil and water to make corn tortillas. They were so eager to welcome us into their home that we laughed and bantered with them eagerly, even though the family often could not understand us, we all were clearly drinking gulps of the Costa Rican Kool-Aid (which Leton made from her own banana tree.) This way of life is clearly a celebration of the Earth’s bounty and takes steps to preserve it not only as a place to get food, but as a place that sustains their entire culture.
The farm to table, home-grown approach doesn’t merely apply to food but applies to nearly all aspects of their lives. Leton and her husband of almost twelve years built their house by hand, with wood, aluminum, and glass products produced in Costa Rica. The building is quite small by American standards but perfectly comfortable and more then adequate for their family of four. The breathtaking views of the epiphyte-covered canopies blanketing the Tilaron Mountains and aquamarine waters of the Gulf of Nicoye from the family’s property could have come straight out of a National Geographic photo shoot.
My concerns about our group overwhelming the small kitchen were soon eased — yes, we were a bit cramped, but soon Leton’s smaller setting felt better, better for socializing, chopping, frying, stirring, and staging the dozens of interactions of countless family members and friends. People were constantly in and out of the kitchen, and, in this community, where, if you were not related to someone, you would definitely know him and his family, boundaries were nonexistent. Contrasted to the American ideal of success, in which bigger is always better and happiness demands more, more, more, this “modest” Costa Rican homestead represented much more than simple responsible sustainability: it was more than enough.
As Leton showed the group how to pound the corn flour mixture into round tortillas and fill them with just enough cheese to make sure they didn’t explode in the skillet, the vibe became more and more relaxed. A terrible cook myself, even I was capable of making an empanada and dropping it in the sizzling pan. After my perfectly browned creation came out of the oil, I noticed everyone was gathered around eating or cooking, and connecting to one another, despite the “missing” square footage to stretch out, or — foreign concept: figure out your own space outside.
Leton said she has cooked everyday since she was twelve and has always loved to be in the kitchen. At first I thought this poor woman must be worked to death by such relentless culinary labors; then I realized she loved building this connection between herself, her food, her family, and friends.
The value of the time and effort it takes to pick a banana, roast a coffee bean, slaughter a cow are not lost on the people of Monteverde, as it is on many Americans who are entirely distanced from the steps taken to get groceries on the shelves of their supermarkets. Perhaps this distance from the fruits of land and labor create a distance, too, within American homes outfitted with overly large kitchens that are never used…
By now, our visit made it clear that appreciation for the food, farms, and land has heated up the local cuisine, with its enthusiastic daily prepararation being key to happy family and social life. Leton’s daughter showed us her mad hoola-hooping skills as we were leaving. Santiago, still chattering away in Spanish, was clamoring for our attention, while Ellivia (we were now on a first-name basis) was patiently cleaning the dirty pans we left in her kitchen. Cooking and chatting over empanadas made us fast friends. As for myself, an inept cook who considered most domestic activities to be miserable chores, I was sure to memorize the recipe. Elivia made me want to make empanadas all day long — to forge the sorts of connections that come from being in a small kitchen.
4. “Secure Earth’s bounty and beauty for present and future generations.” — Earth Charter
