We were guests in the home of Dominican friends. 3 weeks passed without incident, until one day Mr. Rivera took ill and went to the hospital with who-knew-what stomach ailment. His wife stayed by his side morning and night, and I was thrust in the role of "Ama de Casa". I decided right away that cooking Dominican food would be very hard as I had no experience. My first big lunch would be a traditional New England style roast chicken with herbs, including roasted vegetables and a salad.

Things did not go right from the start. The maid found my preparations insulting, especially as I left the chicken in big pieces. The grandmother constantly checked the progress of said chicken, so I "locked" the oven, something I often do to my old oven in the States so that less heat will escape.

Little did I know that this oven had never been locked and would not unlock, either. We had to physically take the door off the oven. Also during this time, I overloaded the washing machine and it cut off. After my husband and young Dib fixed the oven, they lifted the full washing machine to flick a switch on the bottom. They laughed at me while all this was going on and, flustered, I became confused at the actual timing of the cooked chicken.

The chicken was pink in the middle. The boys not-so-secretly fed it to their dog. The vegetables were hard as rocks. The salad was more like onion and tomato soup. Amidst my tears we ordered pizza. On a side note: Mr. Rivera had kidney stones and recovered.


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