Thinking of food, sipping morning coffee on the plaza

There are few activities more satisfying than preparing dinner with music playing in the background, a glass of wine close at hand, and the satisfying aroma of the finishing product.

We are challenged to consume in order to live — but we are graced with the gift of appetite. The exercise of nourishing ourselves is rewarded with fulfillment and an immediate sense of joy. So, it should come as no surprise that I feel like I am in a playground of scents and colors whenever I visit a mercado. The chatter of vendors and the aroma of fresh foods, perfectly aligned; a cornucopia of offerings that thrills me.

I once bought what I thought was a melon at a Cuenca mercado — nope. It is a squash the size of my head.

There is a yellow tube-like fruit that you slice off the top and squeeze like you would toothpaste. I, more often than not, will simply suck it right down like an oyster, seeds and all. It is absolutely delicious. I haven’t tried the prickly little red things yet … and I am saving cuy, roasted Guinea pig — Ecuador’s signature food — for my funeral. I am sure those who mourn me will enjoy it.

Did you know there are over 4,000 native varieties of potatoes growing in the Andes? My Irish ancestors would be as ecstatic as a hungry baby in a topless bar.

I bought a chicken at the market . What a pleasant surprise! It tasted like seeds, grain, grass, bugs, clouds, soft breezes, sunlight, and everything else that the bird enjoyed in her brief but productive life. I bought some pork that was so intensely flavorful you could taste the essence of corn in its diet.

I bought a hunk of beef a while back as well — and my first thought was that the steer must be from Washington State, too, and must have followed me down here — step by step by step. He was certainly a lot tougher than me; I took a plane.

For those less inclined to the joy of rattling those pots and pans there are restaurants everywhere in Cuenca. I mean it. There must be over a dozen good restaurants within a three block radius of Parque Calderon, and many dozen more cast about the city.

I quickly learned of a wonderful mid-day tradition that most restaurants participate in: almuerzo. The menu is always fixed. You chose only with the slightest variation, chicken or meat.

Once you have made that decision, sit back and relax. Lunch is coming. The first course is almost always soup and is almost always potato-based. Yum. Next up is your entree of choice — modest in size but delicious. Invariably your plate is piled high with rice and a small salad as a side. Dessert usually is a two bite-size affair — affectionately known as lengua de gato, or cat’s tongue — that serves mainly to remind you that a pastelería is only two doors away and has a multi-layered chocolate cake sold by the slice this very day.

The average cost for almuerzo is $3.25, although prices range from $1.50 to $6.50.

It is a lovely way to treat yourself in the afternoon.

I spent a good portion of my professional life … in San Francisco, California, and Portland, Oregon, each long-noted for its ebullient food culture — and I have to say, I have every confidence that Cuenca will soon be holding her own against the giants. It seems like new places are opening daily — commanded by kitchens with a well seasoned staff and a chef with an international elán.

And yet newcomers still lose weight. You walk more here because the city is so captivating; you are satiated on less because the food is so fresh, hand-raised and satisfying. What’s not to like? So, if you are coming to Cuenca just for a visit, or to stay, come with a hearty appetite to taste the many innovative flavors and styles of cuisine in Cuenca. Your body will love you for it and your taste buds will excite you everyday.

There is another thing about the culinary tradition of Cuenca that I love: the finely crafted Ecuadorian coffee. It is slightly acidic with overtones of cocoa and cardamom. The international reputation of being “superlative” is well deserved. I recently lived in a very cool and very old apartment building about two blocks from San Sebastian Plaza — and would mosey down to savor a cup of coffee nearly every day.

I was sipping a cafe con leche recently at Casa Azul on the Square when a mature woman sat at the table next to me and pulled out her tablet, cell phone and earbuds prior to ordering her own cafe con leche. It was only a moment later that the wifi connection was interrupted. Oh, she was so upset! After hauling out all that gear, her Samsung Galaxy 4 bFd and 5th generation Sony ear buds were useless — it was as if her life had come to a screeching halt.

I was watching a mother teaching her son how to ride a bicycle.

What fortune to watch such an intimate moment between them. The mother was talking softly, praising her son and offering encouragement fully knowing that she was giving him the tools and confidence to leave her someday — to ride off on his own to find his own home, and perhaps someone to share his life with.

I was sipping my coffee and watching a routine older than my time on earth, in a plaza older than all of our years combined.
….

The sun was rising from behind weightless snow-white clouds suspended in an azure sky. The chirps, squeaks and high-pitched whistles of children’s voices sounded like an aviary of songbirds. The coffee, the mother and child, and even the woman who finally remarked, “I haven’t seen that in many years”, all blended together in its own mosaic of nostalgia and serenity. My life had come to a halt, as well.

I will fondly remember the moment for a long long time.