CACAO! CACAO! CACAO!!

Adventure of the week: Cacao!

It is not just the noise some birds here make, it is the name of the source substance of chocolate. Yumlers, people. Yumlers.

Here begins our chocolate tale. We took a taxi boat the other day to spend time with our friend, Jared, on his biodiverse permaculture conservationist fantasy-island exotic fruit farm on Bastimentos, and to process cacao beans by hand, electricity free, old-school style.

Cacao grows on trees as gourd-like pods. To get to the part with which you make chocolate, cut the gourd open, and pull out the seed pods. They are incased in a slimy white flesh that tastes like raspberry limeade. Nibble or suck the flesh off, if you want to eat the fleshy fruit part, then put the pods in a bucket covered with water. If you are not a fan of exotic deliciousness, then deny yourself the pleasure of nibbling the fruit flesh, and just scrape the whole inside of the cacao gourd into the bucket of water. Let it sit on the porch for a few days to open-air ferment. The fermentation process will remove the rest of the fruit flesh from the seeds as well as denature the seeds.

After the flesh is separated off the cacao seed pods/cacao beans, rinse the seeds well, then put them on a screen in the sun for a few days to dry well.

After some sun drying, you are left with little brownish red nut-like pod. This bean has a little skin on it, like the brown skin on peanuts or almonds. The inside flesh of the bean is, at this point, deep aubergine in color.

Put the beans in a pan on the stove, and toast them over a very very low flame. Just like a nice beef roast, low and slow wins the day. As they toast, the odor of the beans changes; it starts as a blend of sour fruity lemon odor mixed with bitter pungent dark smell, then as you toast them the aroma shifts to to a grassy bitter smell, then to a strong nutty dark chocolate smell. When the pods smell of chocolate, the toasting is done.

At this point, the flesh of the bean has been transformed by heat from purple to dark dark brown. Chocolately brown black might be an appropriate description. The inner pod is about the color of roasted coffee beans.

After toasting, the outer skin of the bean separates fairly easily off the inner flesh of the bean, almost like a roasted peanut. Peel the skin off all the pods. Throw the skin in the compost. Keep the precious, illustrious, miraculous pods.

Now, the pods, which look like little kidneys (not kidney beans or cartoon kidneys, but actual kidneys), are to be ground. They may look like kidneys, but they do not taste like kidneys. My guess is Hershey´s would not use cacao if it tasted like steak and kidney pie (or would they?).

We used the old school awesomeness of a hand grinder clamped to the edge of the work table. We get bad-ass points for that, no doubt. Into the mangler you load up the beans, a spoonful at a time, and crank them through once for a coarse grind. Who needs 24 Hour Fitness? I´ve got a hand grinder, dude.

In the film clips below, you can get an idea of how the grinding went. Ian had to hold down the edge of the table so we could get enough stability to really muscle the grinder.

After grinding once, you adjust the coarseness of the grind, and put cocao through again. Repeat about 5 more times. The interesting thing here, in addition to the muscular work out, and the perfect smell of chocolate wafting up from the mangler then drifting gently on the jungle breeze and mingling with the odor of wild hibiscus and ylang ylang flowers, is the heat friction of the grinder will make the oil in the cacao separate out from the solids. If things get too hot, and the oil melts out, it gums up the whole works. Once we got to the 3rd and 4th grinds, which were fairly fine, we had to turn the grinder crank very slowly to avoid turning everything into mucky thick goo. The first grind through the mangler is a bit of a bear, and then it gets a little harder for each successive grind.

We added cinnamon, hand ground from the bark of a canella tree growing about 20 yds from the farm´s kitchen; some cardomon, also from a tree on the farm; cane sugar blocks, from the local market; and some toasted salted nuts (for a bit of texture, gooeyness and flavor complexity), from a can of Planter´s mixed party nuts. FYI - the mixed party nuts were from Costco, not from the farm.

After all the grinding, we had a lovely bowl of ground cacao with a little extra flavor and sweetness added.

We called it a day, put the cacao in a tupperware, and caught the last taxi boat home before dark.

***As an aside, the taxi boats here do actually run after dark, but few have running lights. Boat drivers will use their cell phones as the light by which other boats should see them and steer clear of them. Seriously. What is up with that? As I am not totally stoked to die in a taxi boat collision after dark in Panama, Ian and I limit our boat riding to the daylight hours. Call me crazy, call me neurotic, call me paranoid, but I will not get on a taxi after dark here.***

After an evening of lovely sleep filled with dreams of chocolate, we were back in the kitchen (the final touches went down in our kitchen rather than the kitchen at the farm, hence the different stove and environs in the pics). We minced some ginger, also from Jared´s magical orgo-veggie wonderland, and let it infuse into coconut oil (low and slow, low and slow). In another pan, we slowly heated some minced ginger in honey and a little simple syrup until the syrup and honey had reduced and the ginger was plump and sugary.

After straining the ginger from the now ginger-infused coconut oil, we mixed the sugared ginger, the oil, and the ground cacao/cinnamon/nut powder. This was gently heated over a make-shift double boiler. It turned into black tarry aromatic goo.

We poured some of the oil into our chocolate molds (which happen to look mysteriously just like ice cube trays) in hopes of preventing future sticking, then packed in the tarry aromatic chocolate goo. The chocolate mold/ice cube tray was then nestled in the fridge between our sandia (watermellon) and our bottle of soy sauce.

After an afternoon nap, an outing to the beach, and some time spent on the balcony reading a book, we pulled the ice cube tray from the fridge, and pried out our chocolate.

It is a bit gooey, as we added too much oil. It is more like fudge than a hard, firm-set chocolate bar, but it is smooth, intensely dark and rich, has an incredible flavor, and has lovely little sugared ginger nubbin surprises hidden throughout.

I discovered, to my delight, our chocolate is the perfect consistency for smearing on my incisors and canines for gorgeous and flattering pictures my mom will be delighted to see posted on the internet. This is what I would look like if I never brushed my teeth and if my folks hadn´t invested so much in dentisrty and orthodontia for me as a child. Drink up that image, folks. It is GORGEOUS!!!













If you are interested in the history of chocolate and so forth, check out the Wikipedia page. It has some interesting factoids and tidbits for the curious.

Just Boat Trip Pics

After some gentle prodding from one of our beloved readers, we are posting some pics from an outing we loved. Here are shots of our boat trip with friends a few days ago. The boat is a fun, serviceable, yet not terribly fancy catamaran.

Ian got to try his hand at steering and fussing with sails and all that. I got to try my hand at sitting back and drinking beer.

Keeping with the boat theme, there is also a short video clip of our typical taxi ride here.

Stay tuned for more Down Home/Far Flung! Our next post will be one for all the foodies in the house. We made CHOCOLATE! Start to finish! From pulling the cacao off the tree to molding it into bars, to eating it, we did every step withour own two hands. Check back in. It is going to be a good post.

As seen in Panama

Another Panama post from Team Montgomery-Quigley!

Welcome back to Far Flung/Down Home! We offer you, yes you, a perfectly resonable way to waste time at work or at home, avoid your responsibilities, procrastinate, AND simulteneously feel somewhat up to date with Team Montgomery-Quigley´s goings-on. It´s a hell of a deal. Reading a news analysis blog might improve your ability to contribute to society. Reading about health and medicine may help you make decisions that ultimately improve your wellbeing and the wellbeing of your family. Reading about personal finance could help you plan for your retirement . But you choose to read Far Flung/Down Home. Well done.

Don´t think we don´t appreciate you spending your most important commodity, your time, here on our blog reading about monkeys and surf boards. I truly respect and appreciate your decision to waste your time here, and not elsewhere.

That said, here´s what´s cooking!

1) It has been raining. A lot. Phones were out. Roads are out. Internet comes and goes. Power comes and goes. The border to Costa Rica on this side of the isthmus is flooded and closed. The rain comes in torrential downpours, the likes of which I have never seen. It rains cats and dogs and parrots and coconuts for anywhere from 10 minutes to an hour to 3 days straight, then it suddenly clears up and is blazingly sunny and bright.







In these photos, you can get a bit of a sense of the rain here. In the first, there are dudes trying to fix a PVC rain gutter in the midst of a deluge. Intelligent? Debatable.

2) Given the quick change operation the weather runs in these parts, we see lots and lots of Landons. For those who don´t know, Landons are when the sun comes through clouds in visible shafts of light. As though you are being touched by an angel. These photos are from our taxi ride from the farm back to where we are staying. Yes, I am, in fact, making super-model face. And yes, those are small potted plants/trees in the front of the boat. Another taxi passenger was bringing plants back for her yard. But seriously, folks; check out those Landons.

3) Ian took this shot of children´s shoes. Notice the brand. Durex. I guess if their other products for which they are known don´t work out, they will also sell you shoes for said product failure. Way to diversify your income stream, Durex!

4) Billabong, Billamong. You say ¨po TAY toe¨, I say ¨po TAH toe¨

5) Lots of Americans retire to Panama. It is relatively cheap, the taxes are low, it is easy to buy inexpensive property here, many folks speak english, and the yellow fever problem is pretty well worked out. Who would have thought that Don Pardo, of all people, would move to Panama?? And open a laundromat?! Awesome.

As an aside, we posted many more pics of our surfboards, pre-makeover, on the previous ¨The Manx and The Lonestar¨ post.

The Manx and the Lone Star

The few days since our last post have been quite a treat! We have had incredibly good fortune, and got to participate in several exemplary outings including a great snorkel trip, we sailed around the islands on a catamaran, we hiked in Bastamentos, learned how to conjugate reflexive verbs in Spanish, ate homemade truffles made with organic chocolate from our new friend’s farm, and went to a super cheap seafood restaurant on the next island which is run by an expat chef from NY. All that is fine and good, yet:

None of that holds a candle to THE MANX and THE LONE STAR.

Once upon a time, when I lived in SF, I hung out with some phenomenally great dudes who extended their boards to me in friendship and surferhood. These guys have big hearts and great senses of humor, and most importantly, they have loads of extra gear. Girls from Colorado don’t usually own wet suits. Lots of pairs of mittens, sure, but wetsuits? I had zero gear, had never spent more than a brief afternoon or two near the ocean during a family reunion at Disneyworld in the 5^th grade, and was stoked to try surfing.

Under their somewhat reckless tutelage, I learned to surf and fell totally in love with the waves, the changing nature of the sea, our ability to float on the ocean perched on a big piece of Styrofoam covered in fiberglass, and the juicy sense of calm and focus we learn while sitting on a surfboard waiting for the next set. I fell in love with surfing.

Fast forward to 10 years later. . . I have been living in Central Texas where there is no surf; the closest surf is a 5 hour drive away, and once you get down to the TX coast the surf tends to be pretty lousy. (At one point, I did wrangle a posse of Texas surfers to try the surfing-behind-a-tanker adventure, but it takes a lot of infrastructure, is not that fun, is probably illegal and is definitely dangerous.) I surrendered to reality; as long as I was in Austin, my surf days were over. -But I still carried a torch for surfing. Deep in my heart, buried below the layer of Tex-Mex flab and my BBQ spare tire, I yearned for surf.

Now we are in Panama, in a surf town. I am stoked!

We rented boards a time or two, and paid a real sweetheart local surfer named Miguel to be our surf instructor. After we got the basics from somebody who knows what they are doing, and we got the beta on where the beginner spots are and how to get there, we were ready to roll! Picture this- we are on vacation for another month. We both love surfing. We both love surfing with each other. We are in a great little surf town. Perfect!

Oh, but wait. The downer is that surfboards are $15 per day, per person to rent. Do the math, it adds up. ALSO- new boards cost no less than $250, and it costs $150 to take them on a plane. We don’t want to buy new boards here, we don’t want to pay to keep renting, and all the used boards we found are too short for beginners.

BUT, Being the scrappy folks we are, we find solutions. We make shit happen. We work it on out! We hit it and quit, just like James Brown! BOOM! Bring it!! Done!

We asked our buddy Ixa, who runs our favorite bike rental shop here in town, and has the inside scoop on all things, where we should look. Her reply? “How about you look at these I have sitting in my backyard? They’re nothing special, but they might work for you.”

$40 later, we were the proud owner of two of the ugliest boards in Panama, and possibly all of Central America. $20 per board. We are on our way to greatness.

There were some dings and some holes, but remember our dude Miguel? We took our new treasures to him not only so he and the other boys hanging out at the shop could laugh heartily at our new acquisition, but so the boards could get fixed. $50, one six-pack, and 2 days later, the holes and most of the dings were patched and sanded, and we were one step closer to awesomeness.

Granted, the boards were still the most ugly, pathetic looking things of all time. They’re light, and watertight, and totally hideous. Spray paint, anyone?

I’ve always wanted my last name in Low-Rider font in the back window of my efficient little hatch-back Toyota. Why not do that on my new surfboard? Well, “Montgomery” has a whole lot of letters. Nix plan A. Plan B- Since some of my ancestors came from Isle of Man, and Manx sounds a lot more tough than Welsh, German, or Scottish (origin of other ancestors), we stenciled “Manx” on the board in Low-Rider font. Totally tough sounding, and totally awesome. (As an aside, the horrible pirate Morgan who plundered Panama and the rest of the Caribbean was Welsh. It isn’t that the Welsh are not tough; it is just that writing “Welsh” on your surfboard doesn’t look tough. Manx has an “x” in it, and everybody knows “x”s are tough.)

Being Texans in a foreign land, and given that red and blue spray-paint are easy to find, the other board became the Lone Star Board.

Ladies and Gentlemen, I give you The Manx and the Lone Star.

We waxed them up, took them out, and most of the spray paint stayed on! What a good surprise!

Now, we are surfing our very own boards. The Manx is nimble and quick, the Lone Star is super floaty and forgiving. We have the most stylie boards in town, don’t have to pay for rentals, had a super fun paint and repair project for a few days, surf every single day on our own boards, and are wildly happy about the whole thing.

Boards: $40

Repairs: $50

6-pack: $4.50

Paint: $6.75

Wax $1

The Manx and The Lonestar: Priceless.

In this picture, in front, with the really boring rental board, is our new good buddy, Kirstie, who is the best adventure pal we could ask for. Yay!

Gettin it done in Panama (aka technology we love, don´t love, and are amazed by)

Greetings from the tropics! Ian and I continue to stay in Bocas, where we go to Spanish class daily, work dilligently not only our verb conjugation but also on perfecting the siesta, honing our skills in the surf, and dining on the freshest and most exotic fruit. Not a bad way to spend two months, is it?!

So far, we are also amazed fairly regularly by the little things, things that are striking in their contrast from what we are used to seeing, things that are far removed from our Austin norm, things that are rich and interesting and new to us here. -hence, this post: Gettin´it done in Panama.

First off, an example of something that is so NOT getting it done. Before our excursion, Ian and I got an incredibly generous gift certificate to REI (Thanks, Charlie!!). We bought this little sucker. It is called a SteriPen, and it is a water sterilizer that uses UV light. Awesome, right? A couple of AA batteries, and small, simple, elegant device, and we are good to go, right? Great solution, right?

I don´t know if the text will show up clearly on this picture, but the device says below the brand name, ¨Safe drinking water anywhere.¨ It should say, ¨Safe drinking water anywhere you buy it already bottled or the municipal water is already potable.¨

It doesn´t work. We´ve gotten the little light to turn on only 3x, after much jiggling and praying and cussing and fussing with it. File this under ¨Things to be returned to REI upon our return to the States.¨ This also could be filed under ¨technology with which we are deeply, deeply disappointed¨. So much potential and such a crappy yield. Alas.

On to technology that wows us! Check out this ingenious/terrifying shower head! In place of a hot water tank, lots of the showers here have heaters right in the shower head. That is sort of like a potentially electrocuting version of ¨your peanut butter got in in my chocolate!¨Two great things together at last. It is sort of like a toaster on the inside, where electricity goes through heating coils that heat up the water. Sort of like putting a toaster in the bathtub, really. Unlike the other heaters that populate much of Latin America, the wires on our unit are not bare, and it seems to work fine. Note please the connections, where there are little plastic clips that we hope don´t get wet while we´re electrically grounded in municipal water and brass pipe fittings.

Ian has said that if his shower is not hot, he jiggles the wire. I tried that once, and the wire was hot to the touch, so I jumped back in horror, knowing that my immediate death via a gazillion volts was half a heart beat away. It wasn´t. I´m fine. I live to blog on about deeply meaningful things like monkeys and shower heads. (Ian is also still not dead.)

Just think of how much more efficient this is, though! You heat only the water you need heated for your shower. No extra.


Here is another totally rad thing we saw here. This is a Harley Davidson motorcyle with a little truck bed welded/machined/affixed to the back. It has a second chain engineered to run the back axle. The front has the all important registration sticker, and a big light held on with wire. This little beast is obviously a work horse. Amazing, no? I don´t think safety inspection is an issue here.



As an aside, there is a helmet law here for motorized vehicles (excluding motor boats). You see folks on motorbikes and scooters in all sorts of helmets, including bicycle, construction, and football helmets. And WWII German-type helmets! We guess that is to avoid the shelling on the island. There would never be any reason for WWII German military periphernalia to be in Central America.

Another fabulous example of how things get done here that is so drastically different from how things get done back home is basic transit. We are on an island that is a few hundred yards from another little island, that is a few hundred yards from a few other little islands. To commute, you take a water taxi. It costs a buck to get from here to the next island, $2 to get to the next one after that. If we go surfing at a break at one of the other islands, or go to visit our friend who runs an organic fruit plantation the next island (more on him and his whole undertaking later), we take a boat. Rather than waiting in the street for hours for a water taxi, throngs of dudes in baseball hats harass you into taking a trip. They are generally errand boys for the taxis; their buddy drives the boat while they go into town and scare up business. It is not really like catching a regular taxi, like, say, in New York, which courteously reminds you to pick up your luggage in some celebrity´s voice.


Besitos to you all! All 2 of you who read this blog!