Puerto Viejo: Satisfaction for the Soul

The sweetness of the air increases with the smell of the wild guavas falling. The jungle, patient and ancient, sings it's music softly mixed with calypso filled stories engraved in the skin of the multicolor houses. Miss Miller is already waiting for me at Sam's Kitchen. O.P., a local legend rocks out of the hammock, ready to prepare a freshly caught mahi-mahi. His voice is calm as he narrates stories of sharks at the bottom of the clear waters.

Generations have past since the banana plantations were the heart of the Old Harbor, but Miss Miller adds her old woman's wisdom to the sauce pan, as she dives her dark hands deep in the bowl, massaging steamy patí dough, moving her giant mama hips to the sounds of the vegetables under her knife. The gas stove is slowly steaming aromas, filling the air in the humble room.

O.P. adds strips of raw fish here, a bit of breadfruit there. The smooth yellow of the plantain darkens the soup with the green cilantro that sweats the sapidity of spices at hand. While smiling, he sneaks some coconut milk out of Miss Miller's sight and spikes heat on his lips with some Panamanian chili.

Mama drums the metal spoon with curry into the frying pan, stuffing the chicken with intense orange magic. She calls the maid loudly for sugar in "patois" tongue and whistles a soft sigh of satisfaction as she is giving birth to the appetite of the Caribbean. The jungle songs come through the window like a Tucanete for a taste of watermelons and buttery green avocados. Black and white ingredients, with a pinch of sweet pepper and onions come together in the form of rice 'n' beans. The juices of sparkly tomato collapse at the worn-out plate, as I prepare for the bliss.

I sink my bare feet in the sand beneath the table as the food is served. A rich tropical fruit drink blends with ice, honey and peppermint, releasing my body from the embrace of the weather. There, in that table with the taste of banana bread in my mouth, I've found satisfaction.