Last Monday was Lauren's birthday. Lauren loves birthdays. Not just her own birthday, but anyone's birthday. She loves to plan the parties, decorations, cakes, gifts-everything, so there was a lot to live up to and a lot to be done to give her a proper birthday party in Panama. Luckily I had some help from Molly and Jess (the other girls that work at the hostels with us) and some guests. Two guys who had been staying here for a while went to Panama City for the weekend and called to see if they could pick up anything in the big city that we couldn't get on the little island here. Well of course no Latin America fiesta is complete without the likes of a piñata, so I told Eric and Dusty to pick up one, preferably in the shape of a dog because as we have all come to know, Lauren hates dogs (cats, dogs, household pets, and most any other animal for that matter. But she loves children, so she does have a soul!) and the sheer joy she would get from beating the crap out of a dog piñata would probably be birthay present enough for her. Plus Lauren LOVES candy, even the crap candy-I think it was because she was deprived of it as a child- so that's like two birthday presents in one. So the boys went all out on a birthay shopping frenzy and bought a piñata, pin the tail on the donkey game, birthday hats, birthday masks (eye masks with clown like noses that in the end nobody put on because they were too scary), balloons, candles, and a pink Tinkerbell "Feliz Cumpleaños" banner that I had to confirm for Eric right before he put up did in fact mean Happy Birthday in Spanish.
While Dusty and Eric set up the decorations, I had to finish carrying out my "brilliant" idea of making alfajores, an Argentine dessert that consists of two cookies with dulce de leche (a caramel like substance) squished in the middle. I considered it brilliant when I first thought of it because Lauren and I both studied abroad in Buenos Aires and would often get nostalgic for all things Argentine while traveling. I found a recipe for making dulce de leche from scratch, which didn't seem too hard. All you needed was a gallon of milk, four cups of sugar, some baking soda and a little vanilla. Easy enough right? Well, not when you're using a Latin American stove that has no proper heat gauge and something that should take an hour to make ends up taking four. I started boiling the milk and mixing in the ingredients at around 10 a.m., but then I wanted to take Lauren to lunch and go with her to the beach for her birthday, so Molly graciously offered to take over. Molly did not know what she was getting herself into, though, (nor did I) and 4 hours later when we came back from the beach, the dulche de leche had just barely formed the right consistency and was ready to be taken off the stove. Molly had slaved away that entire time standing in front of the hot stove in 90 degree heat stirring the milk and sugar mixture until it hardened into a thick brownish goo (stirring constantly the whole time, as the recipe called for, or else it would burn). I got back and apologized profusely when I saw Molly sweating bullets and looking just a bit pissed off, but she must have been on too much of a sugar high from sampling all of the dulce de leche because she merely said "I haven't left this kitchen or this vat of sugary milk for four hours and I'm covered in sweat. I'm going to shower. Lauren better damn like dulce de leche." I truly was grateful to her.
But the dessert was still not done. I had to make the cookie part for the alfajores. I also had to do this in one hour and with 10 other guests who decided to all cook dinner together at the same time in the hostel's confined kitchen space. I cannot convey how much I sweat that day, well I sweat everyday honestly, but this day in particular, what with the stress of getting everything right for Lauren's birthay, the cooking, the crowdedness, etc., I had to mop up my brow with a rag every five minutes. Anyways, some minor alterations had to be made to the recipe (we didn't have baking powder, we only had half of the cornmeal it called for because I noticed halfway through pouring the cornmeal into the batter that maggots had eaten through the bag, oh well, plus 350 degrees F on an oven in Panama is not something easily guestimated even if I could read what the knob in Celcius). But after some minor pan burning and smoke coming out of the oven, the cookies turned out not only edible, but actually pretty tasty.
The celebration turned out great, and I think it exceeded Lauren's expectations. We had fish and salad for dinner, homemade white sangria to drink, alfajores and brownies for dessert, followed by a game of pin the tail on the donkey and some piñata bashing that Lauren managed to take down in well under 5 minutes. It was quite best one of the funniest nights we've had here in Bocas. Lauren said it was the best birthday ever, but I think it might have been the sangria talking.
While Dusty and Eric set up the decorations, I had to finish carrying out my "brilliant" idea of making alfajores, an Argentine dessert that consists of two cookies with dulce de leche (a caramel like substance) squished in the middle. I considered it brilliant when I first thought of it because Lauren and I both studied abroad in Buenos Aires and would often get nostalgic for all things Argentine while traveling. I found a recipe for making dulce de leche from scratch, which didn't seem too hard. All you needed was a gallon of milk, four cups of sugar, some baking soda and a little vanilla. Easy enough right? Well, not when you're using a Latin American stove that has no proper heat gauge and something that should take an hour to make ends up taking four. I started boiling the milk and mixing in the ingredients at around 10 a.m., but then I wanted to take Lauren to lunch and go with her to the beach for her birthday, so Molly graciously offered to take over. Molly did not know what she was getting herself into, though, (nor did I) and 4 hours later when we came back from the beach, the dulche de leche had just barely formed the right consistency and was ready to be taken off the stove. Molly had slaved away that entire time standing in front of the hot stove in 90 degree heat stirring the milk and sugar mixture until it hardened into a thick brownish goo (stirring constantly the whole time, as the recipe called for, or else it would burn). I got back and apologized profusely when I saw Molly sweating bullets and looking just a bit pissed off, but she must have been on too much of a sugar high from sampling all of the dulce de leche because she merely said "I haven't left this kitchen or this vat of sugary milk for four hours and I'm covered in sweat. I'm going to shower. Lauren better damn like dulce de leche." I truly was grateful to her.
But the dessert was still not done. I had to make the cookie part for the alfajores. I also had to do this in one hour and with 10 other guests who decided to all cook dinner together at the same time in the hostel's confined kitchen space. I cannot convey how much I sweat that day, well I sweat everyday honestly, but this day in particular, what with the stress of getting everything right for Lauren's birthay, the cooking, the crowdedness, etc., I had to mop up my brow with a rag every five minutes. Anyways, some minor alterations had to be made to the recipe (we didn't have baking powder, we only had half of the cornmeal it called for because I noticed halfway through pouring the cornmeal into the batter that maggots had eaten through the bag, oh well, plus 350 degrees F on an oven in Panama is not something easily guestimated even if I could read what the knob in Celcius). But after some minor pan burning and smoke coming out of the oven, the cookies turned out not only edible, but actually pretty tasty.
The celebration turned out great, and I think it exceeded Lauren's expectations. We had fish and salad for dinner, homemade white sangria to drink, alfajores and brownies for dessert, followed by a game of pin the tail on the donkey and some piñata bashing that Lauren managed to take down in well under 5 minutes. It was quite best one of the funniest nights we've had here in Bocas. Lauren said it was the best birthday ever, but I think it might have been the sangria talking.
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