Exploring Costa Rica: Pura Vida! Part VI

Recap: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5.

The next leg of our adventure led us to what would become the absolute highlight of the entire trip: a homemade meal at the home of the Murillo family.

Carlos Murillo is an old friend of ours who had made the trip back to his homeland to act as our welcoming committee and unofficial tour guide. The Costa Rican people are without a doubt the sweetest, most gracious people I have ever had the pleasure of meeting. Carlos could be their king, he is the most affable, amiable, and friendliest person I've ever known. His family, even more so.

And what was waiting for us after the short ride down the hill from Volcano Brewing Company to his parents' house cannot be overstated: this was the best food we had the entire trip. THE. BEST. FOOD. Period.

Nothing beats a homemade meal, but it is even better still when it's made with love. And there was nothing but love and laughter in the Murillo home.

Love, laughter, and did I mention the delicious food? The aroma wafting from the kitchen was intoxicating the moment we stepped foot on the porch. It had nothing to do with the Shandies we'd just sucked down, either (though probably impacted the quality of these pictures...). We were HUNGRY.

His mom Flor made us piomono, a concoction of plantains, black beans, sugar, bread crumbs, and cheese unlike anything I've ever had (and she's promised me the recipe, which is forthcoming!). Plantains are one of my favorite fruits, which we eat too infrequently here at home (mostly because Puerto Ricans fry them and it's not exactly healthy). But in the span of two days, I'd already had them with every meal. It was like food heaven.

Señora Murillo was kind enough to wrap up the few extras that were leftover so I could enjoy them every day till I came back home.  I may have eaten a dozen or two...

There were also papas rellenas, potatoes stuffed with ground meat and egg. Think baked potato, but with a meaty filling. These aren't the Cuban-style papas rellenas I've been eating all my life, which are rolled in bread crumbs and fried. (Those are also very delicious, as my bill at Porto's Bakery every time I go in will attest to.) Instead these are baked.

You can't eat just one.

And then for dessert, Carlos' sister Joleny made flan a la Tilaran, a layered dish of condensed milk, cookies, pineapple and grapes (recipe also forthcoming!). Served frozen, it was the perfect end to a truly magnificent meal.

I can't wait to make this for my family.

Simple words cannot fully illustrate how grateful we were to the Murillos for hosting us in their home and serving us such an extraordinary lunch. We were welcomed and indulged just like family. And we joked just like family.

Throughout the wonderful feast, Carlos' papi Alvaro entertained us with stories of his days in California, working the port in San Diego. Pipa Gringo, as he's known to the citizens of Tilaran, is a bit of wise cracker. So later, when he told me that the word relajada (which in the Spanish that my parents speak means relaxed) meant I was saying I was a "loose woman," I didn't believe him. He's a jokester!

But Costa Rican slang being a little different than Mexican or Puerto Rican slang, I really had no idea I was calling myself a tramp! Thankfully, I was quickly corrected and learned not to repeat that again among any other Costa Ricans.

Talk about culture shock!

We were having so much fun, we almost forgot there was still a 2 1/2 hour ride to our final destination in Piñilla. So it was with heavy hearts that we left the Murillo clan and drove out to the beach. Where we spent the remainder of our time in-country zip-lining, exploring the local watering holes, or just lounging by the 45-foot pool next to our semi-private beach.

Oh, and trying not to get trampled by a huge pig...

Exploring Costa Rica: Pura Vida! Part III

(Part 1 and Part 2, if you're playing catch up!)

Post-afternoon nap I woke up as we were entering the grounds of Lomas del Volcan, a very cute resort on the north side of the infamous volcano (and the location of this mural). Side note, if you find yourself traveling to Costa Rica, STAY HERE. It was $100 for a private bungalow and breakfast. The staff is remarkably sweet (as are all Costa Ricans) and the place is absolutely darling. There's also a volcano hiding behind it, for bonus points.

We unpacked and headed to the restaurant/bar. Because what else are you supposed to do when you import a bunch of duty-free American liquor in your luggage? American liquor just doesn't have the same appeal as a bar full of Costa Rican delights! Vacation philosophy.

Here is where we learned of a drink called guaro, commonly referred to by its brand name Cacique. It's made from sugar cane and is absolutely lethal. Served up like a double shot of tequila, replete with lime, it is not for the faint of heart or mere casual imbiber. Clear, smelling like it will kill you, it's reminiscent of grain alcohol. We decided not to indulge in guaro beyond the first sip, lest we burst into flames.

So we drank beer. And then I got sleepy again. My traveling companions were growing weary of my lethargy and insisted I wake up. So I switched to rum and coke, or as our bartender jokingly referred to it, a Costa Rica Libre. And wow, I suddenly had energy.

(For you Pepsi drinkers: I honestly cannot tell the difference, but you won't find Pepsi in Costa Rica. And it doesn't taste like Mexican Coke either, unfortunately. They import the same high fructose corn syrup variety Cokes that we get here.)

But wait, this is a food blog, yes? Dinner was a delicious ceviche with fried plantains:

And dessert was more plantains, but the sweet variety made from over-ripe fruit:

These were lightly charred but soft, unlike the ones served like chips for the ceviche. These were baked, which was something new for me (us Puerto Ricans like to fry them up good). And served with a strawberry sauce, a light cream, and butter. Quite the pretty presentation.

As an illustration of the graciousness of the Costa Rican people, our bartender and waitresses never once asked if we wanted to close out the tab, or made any mention of closing up. We were the only patrons in the bar till the wee hours (maybe? It's hard to remember between the time difference and all the Costa Rica Libres...) and yet they continued to indulge us until it we finally decided it was time to call it a night.

Somehow I woke up without a headache. Or a volcano...