You know what you’re making for supper. You stopped at the grocery store on your way home from work and picked up the necessary ingredients. You’ve diced your onion, your oil is a-heating. OK. Recipe calls for one sopita (a chicken broth cube). One sopita, one sopita…where in Julia Child’s name is the sopita?! You’re out of sopita, remember? You used the last square of it in that sancocho the other day. ___! (Insert your choice of swear word here)

Now, if you were in El Seybo or San Juan de la Maguana, you’d just take a few steps outside your very front door, choosing from possibly 5 or 6 different colmados (Dominican neighborhood shops), to make your purchase. (Or even better, you’d send someone else to run and get it - the chef wields a lot of authority in the Dominican kitchen.) And not only could you have your sopita almost instantaneously, but you could buy just ONE, if you so chose. No bulk mentality here, almost everything is available in the most minute quantities. 3 pesos of oil? 2 pesos of salsa? "Lo que tu quieras, mi amor". Flour, sugar, and rice by the fraction of the pound? "No hay ningún problema".

Although these phenomena are necessitated by the fact that electricity is iffy (and therefore refrigeration uncertain) and that most budgets don’t allow for people to plan too far in advance, it makes one realize how "convenience stores" in North America are not so aptly named. "Colmado", on the other hand, is no misnomer; it implies abundance, heaping spoonfuls, and so much more.

I would love to see the look on the face of my corner store cashier, if I were to buy some ham, cheese and bread and assemble myself a sandwich right there on his counter, and proceed to devour it - all the while making loud conversation and crumbs everywhere. What would my grocer say if I told him to slice my cabbage for me? And I’m almost certain I couldn’t have my phone calls forwarded to the shop on the corner OR get a line of credit.
So those of you who live in close proximity to colmados, appreciate them! Tuck your metal jarro under your arm with pride! Bring back your bottles and pay your cuenta in timely fashion. In the name of convenience!


By Aunt Jane


Photo by Pedrito Guzman. Used with permission.

Now that I'm going thru such hard time an article like this one brings such memories that tears run down, reading this article made me feel like hiting myself for comming to this country where I have work so hard for nothing where i have been so many times with nothing to eat simply because my hair is white and even tho I'm not that old I can't get a job because I'm to "old" and it doesn't mean anything how good am I at what I used to do, at the same time don't have a colmado to mitigate that hunger and pay later when some money come in.
A colmado what a heavenly place.

Hi King, I am sorry to hear that you are going through a rough spot. Hang in there buddy, we are made of tough materials. Trust me, things will turn for the better soon. Hang around, this is a friendly spot and we do really care about our friends here and abroad.

And about the article, I think it is one of the finest things Aunt Jane ever wrote for us. There is another phenomenon that she didn't mention, but probably because it is a very urban thing (she lived in Sosua): delivery. Darn! I don't know how I could survive without my neighborhood colmado, which delivers anything worth more than ten pesos. I get everything delivered when I need it, even properlly chilled beer. It probably does me no favor to mention that the colmado is practically next door.