Food

Spaghetti for breakfast is any kid’s dream, and it’s Corail’s reality. Not only do we eat spaghetti every morning, but this particular spaghetti is cooked in all kinds of wonderful grease and is served with spicy ketchup. Throw in some heavenly local mango and I’m one happy camper.

We eat every meal across the road at Florence’s house. Florence is the sister of Pierre, who owns the house we live in and is the other founder of Hope on a String. It’s Florence’s sister who does all the (fantastic) cooking. Her name is Viola. I was far more excited than she about the fact that I play the instrument that is her namesake. Our friends across the road make sure we are extremely comfortable. There’s always plenty of food, plenty of treated water, and a fan. Life here would be much harder without their limitless generosity.

Lunch is the biggest meal of the day (for those fortunate few who can afford to have more than one), and rice and beans are the biggest anchors in my life. Despite all the change and new experiences in my life, rice and beans are a promised, reliable event every day. Along with these staples, we are treated to various Haitian dishes. We eat stews with fish, crabs, and dumplings, fried plantains, and goat. Goat is the best. They make a special bread that’s thick and doughy. Bennett calls it sweat bread because of the strenuous activity required to make the dough. This new vocabulary has added a certain m pas connais ki sa that was not there before.

Dinner is typically just leftovers from lunch, but sometimes I’ll grab an extra bite to eat from one of the fritay vendors in town. Fritay is an assortment of fried goodies like dough, diced meats, plantains, and more. Yum.

For drink, we choose between Prestige beer (the award-winning Haitian lager), rum, and klarin. Klarin is a clear liquid served in a bottle with the label torn off. It is essentially Haitian moonshine. A few years back, there was the huge problem of street vendors selling ethanol in bottles and passing it off as klarin. It's frightening that people were drinking straight ethanol for a few years. What I find more frightening, however, is the fact that klarin tastes so similar to a fuel. Drinking klarin is just like drinking any other low quality hard alcohol, only with an added kick comparable to snorting wasabi. Or so I'm told. The Haitians don't mess around.