Slice of Life, Evening of August 3rd 2017: A walk with Miss Dorolyn
Miss Dorolyn (the class 1-6 French teacher) and I recently bonded over baking.
Two weeks ago, I told her I christened the bush kitchen at my house by making a brownie over the fire. Her eyes lit up, as she told me about the cakes and the cupcakes and the custards and the pies that she has baked after finding recipes online.
Today, we were returning from Kalpat's house, where we went with the entire school staff to wish him well after he recently suffered a stroke. We were walking along the dirt road with the ocean to our left, and some houses hidden behind the thick bush to our right. I told her how I received a chocolate bar from a visiting German girl, and it inspired me to try to make a chocolate chip cookie over the fire. However, I would need to borrow some vanilla extract from Dorolyn to make it happen.
"But you must invite me over to make it with you!" She told me in Bislama.
"I want to, but when I bake it's not at Ni-Van hours, and I feel like you won't want to be baking at 7pm tonight!" I responded.
Dorolyn laughed, but I insisted that I would have to share the recipe with her once I've perfected it. I explained that I'd already made brownies twice now, but both times they were cake-like, and I was disappointed. I wanted to make them more fudgy, so I had to change the recipe and perfect it before sharing. I wanted to do the same with the cookie recipe. "What if I burn it, or it's too crisp, or it's undercooked? I don't want you to see that for the first time you see a skillet cookie and think 'this is how it's supposed to be!'"
We continued walking and heard some children in the distance calling our names. On our left, about 100 feet out into the water, were three girls excitedly waving their arms up and down as they shouted "Halo Miss Doralyn! Halo Miss Leimara!" I smiled and waved back, as did Dorolyn, but she seemed distracted. She was looking off towards some houses in the bush to our right. Before I said anything, she told me, "One moment, let's see what they have to eat!" I was confused and intrigued.
We walked down a small path to a clearing where there was an outdoor kitchen and a table. Five men were sitting around, leaning against a tree, chatting. Dorolyn walked up and lifted the cloth covering the table. The cloth was covering a large banana leaf, which she lifted to reveal a wide oval platter covered in treats: boiled bananas coated with coconut milk. She let out a small, hungry gasp, and started ripping the banana leaf and picking up the snacks. I was confused...we just walked up here without addressing anyone and we were just taking food from a random table in front of strangers!
Dorolyn passed me a banana wrapped in a leaf, and grabbed four for herself. She shouted out in Bislama, "How much per piece? 20 vatu?" An elderly woman's voice, deeper in the brush beside a house, responded, "Yes! 20 vatu." I looked towards the sound but couldn't find the woman providing it, instead just seeing a house and the smoke of a fire cooking something nearby.
Dorolyn set a 100 vatu coin on the table, looked up at the lounging men, nodded, and thanked them. We walked down the path, returning to the dirt road. I insisted on giving her 20 vatu, but she wouldn't accept the offer.
"This house, they sell things for 20 vatu. Sometimes, you can come here and they sell fish for only 20 vatu. Whole fish! Do you like shells? They sell fresh shells here, cooked, and they stuff grated banana inside. It's delicious...and so cheap! Sometimes there's even simboro or laplap. All 20 vatu."
It was like a friend showing me her new favorite restaurant that no one's discovered yet.
As we continued on the road, Dorolyn reminisced about the favorite cakes she's made. "I once made a pineapple...a...what's it called? Pineapple upside down cake? With the pineapple on top? Oooh it was good. Oh, and have I ever told you about the heart cake I made?" She has definitely told me, but it always sounded so delicious and it was her crowning glory, that I allowed her to continue. "It was a cake for Momo's [her son] birthday. I made this chocolate cake in a heart pan, and then I used some string and I cut it in half horizontally and lifted off the top. Then, I put ice cream in the middle, put the top back on, and covered the whole thing with chocolate. I put it in my friend's freezer and when you took it out, and cut into it...ooh. It was chocolate cake, and ice cream, and chocolate cake, and chocolate on top. So good."
I told her she needed to use Pinterest. "What's that?" I told her it was a resource for her to find thousands of recipes and ideas for making crafts (she made paper flowers for Open Day at the school) and ideas for home decoration and everything. I told her once she made an account, she'd be addicted, looking at the website for hours at a time. She grasped at her bag and pulled out a pen and paper. "Write it down for me! What is it? Pinterest?!" I laughed and told her at school, I'd help her set up an account and show her how to browse.
The next day, I gave Dorolyn a piece of my skillet cookie. Dorolyn excitedly told Caroline about the conversation we had yesterday. Caroline said in Bislama, "Yes, I remember hearing you say 'a half a cup of butter, some flour...'" "Yes, that's Dorolyn's language!" I joked. Dorolyn playfully slapped me on the shoulder and smiled.
Dorolyn took a bite of the cookie and her eyes widened. "Ah, tru! Nais wei!" She pointed to a blank sheet of paper and gestured for me to write the recipe down, as her mouth was too occupied by chewing.
Miss Rena walked in and tried a piece and had a similar reaction. I told her I made it last night. She told me I needed to adapt it to make it "island style." I told her I already did make it that way...last night I cooked it over a fire using rocks on top to make an oven. She pointed to my phone. "Be yu karem numba blo mi! [But you have my phone number!]" I told her now that I know it's perfect, I will invite anyone and everyone over to bake it again.
Two weeks ago, I told her I christened the bush kitchen at my house by making a brownie over the fire. Her eyes lit up, as she told me about the cakes and the cupcakes and the custards and the pies that she has baked after finding recipes online.
Today, we were returning from Kalpat's house, where we went with the entire school staff to wish him well after he recently suffered a stroke. We were walking along the dirt road with the ocean to our left, and some houses hidden behind the thick bush to our right. I told her how I received a chocolate bar from a visiting German girl, and it inspired me to try to make a chocolate chip cookie over the fire. However, I would need to borrow some vanilla extract from Dorolyn to make it happen.
"But you must invite me over to make it with you!" She told me in Bislama.
"I want to, but when I bake it's not at Ni-Van hours, and I feel like you won't want to be baking at 7pm tonight!" I responded.
Dorolyn laughed, but I insisted that I would have to share the recipe with her once I've perfected it. I explained that I'd already made brownies twice now, but both times they were cake-like, and I was disappointed. I wanted to make them more fudgy, so I had to change the recipe and perfect it before sharing. I wanted to do the same with the cookie recipe. "What if I burn it, or it's too crisp, or it's undercooked? I don't want you to see that for the first time you see a skillet cookie and think 'this is how it's supposed to be!'"
We continued walking and heard some children in the distance calling our names. On our left, about 100 feet out into the water, were three girls excitedly waving their arms up and down as they shouted "Halo Miss Doralyn! Halo Miss Leimara!" I smiled and waved back, as did Dorolyn, but she seemed distracted. She was looking off towards some houses in the bush to our right. Before I said anything, she told me, "One moment, let's see what they have to eat!" I was confused and intrigued.
We walked down a small path to a clearing where there was an outdoor kitchen and a table. Five men were sitting around, leaning against a tree, chatting. Dorolyn walked up and lifted the cloth covering the table. The cloth was covering a large banana leaf, which she lifted to reveal a wide oval platter covered in treats: boiled bananas coated with coconut milk. She let out a small, hungry gasp, and started ripping the banana leaf and picking up the snacks. I was confused...we just walked up here without addressing anyone and we were just taking food from a random table in front of strangers!
Dorolyn passed me a banana wrapped in a leaf, and grabbed four for herself. She shouted out in Bislama, "How much per piece? 20 vatu?" An elderly woman's voice, deeper in the brush beside a house, responded, "Yes! 20 vatu." I looked towards the sound but couldn't find the woman providing it, instead just seeing a house and the smoke of a fire cooking something nearby.
Dorolyn set a 100 vatu coin on the table, looked up at the lounging men, nodded, and thanked them. We walked down the path, returning to the dirt road. I insisted on giving her 20 vatu, but she wouldn't accept the offer.
"This house, they sell things for 20 vatu. Sometimes, you can come here and they sell fish for only 20 vatu. Whole fish! Do you like shells? They sell fresh shells here, cooked, and they stuff grated banana inside. It's delicious...and so cheap! Sometimes there's even simboro or laplap. All 20 vatu."
It was like a friend showing me her new favorite restaurant that no one's discovered yet.
As we continued on the road, Dorolyn reminisced about the favorite cakes she's made. "I once made a pineapple...a...what's it called? Pineapple upside down cake? With the pineapple on top? Oooh it was good. Oh, and have I ever told you about the heart cake I made?" She has definitely told me, but it always sounded so delicious and it was her crowning glory, that I allowed her to continue. "It was a cake for Momo's [her son] birthday. I made this chocolate cake in a heart pan, and then I used some string and I cut it in half horizontally and lifted off the top. Then, I put ice cream in the middle, put the top back on, and covered the whole thing with chocolate. I put it in my friend's freezer and when you took it out, and cut into it...ooh. It was chocolate cake, and ice cream, and chocolate cake, and chocolate on top. So good."
I told her she needed to use Pinterest. "What's that?" I told her it was a resource for her to find thousands of recipes and ideas for making crafts (she made paper flowers for Open Day at the school) and ideas for home decoration and everything. I told her once she made an account, she'd be addicted, looking at the website for hours at a time. She grasped at her bag and pulled out a pen and paper. "Write it down for me! What is it? Pinterest?!" I laughed and told her at school, I'd help her set up an account and show her how to browse.
The next day, I gave Dorolyn a piece of my skillet cookie. Dorolyn excitedly told Caroline about the conversation we had yesterday. Caroline said in Bislama, "Yes, I remember hearing you say 'a half a cup of butter, some flour...'" "Yes, that's Dorolyn's language!" I joked. Dorolyn playfully slapped me on the shoulder and smiled.
Dorolyn took a bite of the cookie and her eyes widened. "Ah, tru! Nais wei!" She pointed to a blank sheet of paper and gestured for me to write the recipe down, as her mouth was too occupied by chewing.
Miss Rena walked in and tried a piece and had a similar reaction. I told her I made it last night. She told me I needed to adapt it to make it "island style." I told her I already did make it that way...last night I cooked it over a fire using rocks on top to make an oven. She pointed to my phone. "Be yu karem numba blo mi! [But you have my phone number!]" I told her now that I know it's perfect, I will invite anyone and everyone over to bake it again.
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