The universal language of cooking.

Every night, the volunteers gather at 7:30 pm for a home-cooked meal. Thus far we have enjoyed tacos, lasagna, chicken, pasta, fish, spaghetti, grilled cheese with tomato soup, etc. Every meal includes soup, salad, fruit, and home-made dessert. There is always plenty to eat so we enjoy the leftovers for lunch or sometimes, in my case, breakfast. I have never experienced such instant regret like the time I ate leftover lasagna for breakfast and took a 45 minute bus ride through the city. Not. Great. 

Dinner is prepared by Antonia and Maria. Maria is currently on vacation so we have only been introduced to Antonia. When I have free time and smell something cooking, I like to wander into the kitchen and ask Antonia if she needs help. I laugh thinking about the first time we spoke because I later found out that instead of asking her "do you need help?" I was telling her "you need help." It's amazing what one letter can do. Antonia works very hard and has cooking for a crowd down to a science. I'm sure she could finish any job she gives me ten times faster than it takes to explain how to do it but she has been so sweet to let me impose. 

I'm happy to accept low profile jobs like peeling carrots, cutting cucumbers, washing lettuce, and opening jars. The large wooden kitchen table gives us enough space to work quietly across from one another and every now and then I'll see her glance over to make sure I haven't cut off one of my fingers. As I make my way through the vegetables, I ask her "esta bien?" and she'll smile and nod. It would be pretty difficult to mess up carrots but where there's a knife, there's a way. I love watching Antonia cook and even though we aren't carrying on a conversation, I find that the language of cooking is universal.  

(Not the greatest subtle picture but you get the point.)